Marcellus “Dat Dude” Wiley

Former defensive end, NFL Jacksonville Jaguars

(page 1 of 2)

I first got involved in the game when I was six. My dad, Charles Wiley, would set up our living room to practice all the time. He would lift up the pillows from the couch and chip into it, and he would put drinking glasses on the ground and putt into them. He took me to the driving range for the first time when I was six, but at that time I was really learning the rules and etiquette of the game, like how I couldn’t run across the green, hit across the putting area or how I couldn’t yell when I hit a good shot. I kept playing golf and then started playing peewee football and my dad would take me to the driving range before my games. So on those days I would wake up, go to the driving range, putt some balls and compete with my dad. Whoever got to 11 first would win. Then we would go to McDonald’s across the street from the course for my pre game meal. Golf became part of football for me; it would relax me and it became a bonding experience for me and my father. I stopped playing golf when I moved to Buffalo and then New York City to go to Columbia. When the temperature dropped I fell off, but I’m an L.A. native so whenever I was there I would pick up my sticks and go practice.

My best experience was during a Columbia alumni golf outing. There was a par 4 that was about 370 yards or so. The tee box was on top of a hill and the green was much lower in altitude, so I had a huge advantage in driving distance. I basically drove the hole!!! I think it was an illegal driver that I had—someone gave it to me and said I couldn’t use it on Tour but I could use it that day. I whacked the ball probably 360 or 365 yards, and the greens keeper said he had never seen anybody hit the ball so far. That was in 2003 and I have been trying to get after it ever since.

I am a great iron player and horrible wood player, so I am scared of my woods. On the tee box, I would be grabbing for my 4-iron and people would laugh and call me names. They would say that only real men use woods. Just recently I had a tournament against my girlfriend’s stepfather, Tony. He’s not better than me, but he can use a wood. I was upset after he beat me, so he told me, ‘You need to face your fear. Go to the range and just hit woods.’ I came back to L.A., grabbed my woods and forced myself to do it. I played around with my technique and overemphasized my follow-through and it went straight. However, I’m still scared and I have yet to use my woods on a golf course because I don’t want to lose too many balls.