No doubt it’s an early call, but James Hahn has all the makings of that increasingly rare breed on golf’s professional tours: the genuine character. In rougher hewn days, there were a lot of
them—players with personality, a story and, of course,
exceptional ability. It’s tough to hit that triple in today’s
game, when spontaneous wit presents far more danger
to a carefully marketed image than canned stuff like
The Golf Boys.
But Hahn, a 31-year-old PGA Tour rookie, has the first two
elements in abundance. And based on two top-five finishes in
his first five events, including a T- 3 at Pebble Beach, he may
have the third.
Hahn’s Gangnam-style celebration on the 16th hole at
Phoenix, which he pulled off with the panache and confidence of a Chi Chi sword dance, opened a public door to an
engaging soul. The Cal graduate (American Studies)
describes himself on his lively Twitter account as “world’s
best sleeper, Priceline King, Craigslist addict.” He marks
his ball with a carwash coin and says his dream foursome
would include The Rock, Bernie Mac
and Katt Williams. Raised in Alameda,
Calif., he possesses the easy Bay Area
openness that has seen natives such as
Johnny Miller, Roger Maltbie, Ken
Venturi, the late Bob Rosburg and,
most recently, Arron Oberholser find
eventual careers in television.
“James has always been a free spirit
and a performer,” says Hahn’s older
brother, Tom, who caddied at the AT& T. “He loves life, and
people are drawn to him.”
Born in South Korea, James began beating balls at age 4
on a driving range near the Oakland Airport operated by
his father. A self-described “Tin Cup kind of guy,” Hahn had
trouble with the regimentation of college golf and quit the
team before his senior year. A year later his former
teammates took the 2004 NCAA title. He turned pro with
something to prove, but financial need and frustration led
him to leave the mini-tours for sojourns at an advertising
agency and even the women’s shoe department at Nord-
strom (“My Al Bundy period”). The lean years finally
stopped in 2012 when Hahn finished fifth on th e Web.com
Tour to qualify for the PGA Tour.
Hahn’s track record is thin—two victories on the Canadian
Tour and one on the Web.com—but his game passes the eye
test. At a fit 6-1 and 180 pounds, his action is both graceful
and textbook, learned not by working with coaches but as a
Can he keep the ‘ha’ in Hahn?
juvenile range rat and later through his favorite medium—
You Tube. Without the funds for hands-on instruction,
Hahn borrowed from videos of swings he admired and took
Internet tutorials.
“Guys would ask me who I was working with,” he says,
“and I’d tell them I just had an hour with Butch Harmon
and 20 minutes with Leadbetter.” Hahn has power (fourth
in driving distance at the AT&T) and touch (David Feherty
dubbed his final-round up-and-down from deep Kikuyu at
Pebble’s par- 4 ninth a “stunt shot”), plus he can go low
(final-round 62s at both Humana and Phoenix).
The package has similarities to an early Lee Trevino, or
even another East Bay late bloomer with graceful lines and
a charismatic demeanor, Tony Lema. Hahn, while staying
outwardly humble, carries himself like a man on the verge
of something. After pulling off a difficult approach Friday
on the 17th at Monterey Peninsula CC, he walked back
toward the fairway and, unable to contain himself,
suddenly sprung catlike over a waist-high gallery rope.
“My life is in a great spot,” he says.
In rougher hewn days, there were a lot
of characters—players with personality, a
story and, of course, exceptional ability.
It’s tough to hit that triple in today’s game.
Will Hahn have staying power? Trevino came to feel
suffocated by attention and often shut down his naturally
comedic self. Bubba Watson has become reticent and
suspicious. There is a pragmatic reason Tiger Woods—
and so many talents who have followed—keep their public
persona so bland: longevity.
But citing his good fortune at being part of The Show,
Hahn has a smile for everyone, even the golf writer who
asked him, on the eve of his last-group-on-Sunday pairing
with co-leader Brandt Snedeker, “What do you do to keep
yourself from getting those yips?”
Rather than “Really?” or even silence, Hahn responded
with a friendly riff. “You look over to the right, see the
ocean and think about how cool it would be to be a surfer,”
he said. “It’s like Happy Gilmore—put yourself in your
happy place. I guess this is my happy place.”
If it remains so, the game will gain some welcomed
character. N
