John Huggan takes foooorrrreeevvvvveeeeer to make his point (and he says I bury the lede!), but it's a good one and hopefully one that the onslaught of Michelle Wie posts here have been hinting out: this young lady needs help.
No no, not a trip to Vienna with men named Hans in white robes and clipboards asking strange questions. Just a friendly therapist who can help her feel better about missing graduation, maybe offer a few tips about dealing with all of the vultures around her and who can get her through the senstive post-injury comeback ups and downs.
All of which only brings me to the most serious aspect of this tacky little affair, namely the obviously fragile state of mind of what is, let's not forget, an impressionable teenage girl going through one of life's more traumatic phases. Apparently less than jovial during her abbreviated appearance last week - "I kinda felt bad for her," said playing partner, Alena Sharpe. "She didn't seem happy." - Wie appeared even more lethargic and depressed in the aforementioned pro-am. Indeed, so disinterested was she that even the mere thought of putting out on two of the last three greens was something she couldn't countenance.
Clearly, something is seriously amiss inside her head. Wie's agent, the LPGA and, most of all, her parents have a responsibility to step up before this outwardly delightful youngster's health begins to suffer more than it has already. That, it should go without saying, is far more important than any amount of money and, it seemingly needs to be said, is actually worth writing a column or ten about.
* USA Today's Christine Brennan brings up the dreaded Jennifer Capriati example as a hint of where this could lead.