So I did. And I lounged, and I ate. I drank my glass of water and I ogled the stack of pink "I ♥ Evian Masters" backpacks. I endured a PowerPoint presentation about the core values of Evian and the Evian Masters and learned that Gulbis, ladies and gentlemen, is the true-to-form, glamorous embodiment of those same buzzwords. Which is why I'm about to treat this sun-splashed club like it's my local, bare-bones range, carpet on the miniature golf course shagging at the seams.

At least, that's what I think. At the time, and even a week later, I'm still not quite sure what I was doing inside, where a sparkling chandelier adorns the room and bowtied waiters ask if we need a refill on our glasses of water and a chef in a New York Mets cap flips eggs in the corner. The Evian bottles are big and small, glass and plastic, simple and ornate — designer, even, I'm told later — and I'm scared to touch them. Everything is so precious and delicate, and transporting a room full of people to the Evian Royal Resort, but an ocean away, is dreamy, if not realistic. But then that's the point, I suppose.

Then Natalie Gulbis walks in, and the overhanging lights and buffet bar seem less thrilling.

She struts past red couches in her pitch-perfect ensemble — orange polo with orange collar and orange sleeves, short orange skirt — and the white bouquets of flowers pop as brightly as the pearl studs in her ears. Canon on her arm, MasterCard on her hat, TaylorMade everywhere else. The Evians glisten in her sunglasses' gleam as she laughs at mindless promotional spots. Her portraits are everywhere.

She moves outside, where she's giving one-on-one lessons on the patio. ("You been upstairs to the terrace yet?" one suit asks another. "Gorgeous up there.") On this floor, though, there's a makeshift putting green to the right, visible through the legion of alternatively shaped Evian bottles, bouncy tee mat and net to the left. Gulbis sits on a white couch as I walk out to meet her.

"Let's go hit some balls," I say immediately after our introduction. I don't have any questions prepared. I could have asked her about her Twitter page, I guess, and Wikipedia told me the night before that Gulbis was a contestant on The Apprentice, so I could have grilled her about The Donald, maybe. There's that golf career, too. But asking her fluffy questions and pretending to be there for the Evian Masters seemed disingenuous.

"Sure, you want to hit balls?"

She jumps up from the couch. No questions for four minutes!

"Now I have to warn you," I say, preempting catastrophe, as she yanks a club from a generic bag, "that this might be a disaster. I haven't hit balls in, like, eight months. So this could get ugly. What are you giving me? A sand?"

My lucky day. It's damn near impossible to look spastic hitting a sand wedge into a net two feet away. You want to hit golf balls with Natalie Gulbis? Hit the sand wedge. I did, and I spattered those bad boys all over the net, same height each time, swing perfectly fluid, because it was all I had to do. Imagine that — playing golf when the distance, trajectory and spin of the shot is about as meaningful as a divot on a turf mat. It's Golden Tee come to life. With a sand wedge, all the time.

Looking pretty is the only objective, and if I couldn't do that with a sand wedge, I just would have plopped down on that couch and asked if she would tweet about our day. It's beautiful morning. My stomach is full. And my fears of yanking drives wayward into the water have been mollified by the new goal of impersonating a hacker with a swing disproportionate to his game.

"You have a nice swing!" she reassures me.

"You're just trying to butter me up."

"No! You keep your lower body quiet, nice swing. And you didn't used to play golf?"

"Nope," I boast as she hands me her own 7-iron, gripped in a worn pink.

"But something, right?"

"Baseball."

"Yeah, I can tell."

Hear that? She can tell! Five swings later, and she finally gives some advice — slow down the backswing, she warns — and I become so indignant that I tell her to take some swings of her own. Show me how it's done, if you're so sage.

"You know," she says as we switch places, "I've seen some interesting pictures on Deadspin."

I pretend not to know what she's talking about, so I deflect and say something dismissive like, "Oh, I bet," and move on to offer tips on her swing. We laugh.

Soon, the event's organizers are shuffling me off the mat, with another reporter waiting to ask questions about the so-called sex symbol's stable sense of self, or something like that. So Gulbis and I shake hands, and, with no reason to stick around, I'm left wondering if the town car will be downstairs when she yells after me.

"You better be nice to me," she chides as I walk back inside, grab my hot pink keepsake and, parched, wish for a bottle of water, and maybe a ticket to France. "I don't want to see bad pictures of me on Deadspin!"

In most worlds — let alone sports leagues — such creative visualization is known simply as delusion. In the LPGA, it's "holistic," and it's the latest craze!

It shouldn't be a surprise to learn of such, um, quirkiness from the sport that, in the last year alone, tried to Americanize its playing field and strongly encouraged in-round tweeting. I wonder if their under-the-breath mutterings or across-the-fairway ballads have to be in English, too.

Suzann Pettersen has been counting obsessively out loud as she walks down the fairway. Italy's Giulia Sergas has been pretending to snowboard while waiting for her turn. Finland's Minea Blomqvist has been attempting to channel Ms. Sorenstam's spirit, mimicking her posture, tempo and facial expressions. And this April at the Kraft Nabisco Championship in Rancho Mirage, Calif., Brittany Lincicome sang and whistled country songs by Keith Urban and Sugarland after nearly every shot. She won the tournament — her first major victory....

As the U.S. Women's Open kicks off in Bethlehem, Pa., golf fans can thank Ms. Sorenstam's longtime mentor, Pia Nilsson, and her coaching partner, Lynn Marriott, for the increase in odd behavior on the greens. Now a regular presence at tour events, the duo has picked up nearly 20 new tour clients since the retirement of Ms. Nilsson's star pupil last year. Together, they help players win with a "holistic" approach that's based on who each client is as a "whole person."

Instead of focusing only on a player's stance or swing, Ms. Nilsson and Ms. Marriott say they take players' spiritual, social, physical, mental and emotional needs into account as well, suggesting remedies that often have little to do with technical golf and have included listening to iPods, playing Sudoku, jumping up and down or staring up at the trees during downtime on the course.

"We know teachers and coaches are wondering what we're doing," says Ms. Nilsson, who notes on their Web site that she hates cocktail parties, loves the color blue, makes her own cereal and has kept stats on the number of ice cream cones she eats each summer. Ms. Marriott enjoys gardening, values kindness, hates "when things are messy" and does her spiritual rejuvenating in Sedona, Ariz.

Here's what you need to know about me: I'm eating a bag of potato chips, I think making my bed is a waste of time, and I'm floored by the wonderfully indescribable, incandescent beauty of the sun striking a brick wall. I also like shaping sand castles in the trap, because it unleashes my bottled-up rage. See you in Bethlehem!

Women's golf goes holistic [WSJ]

The 27-year-old Ochoa will marry 39-year-old Andres Conesa, the director general of Aeromexico airline, one of her sponsors.

Local media reported Conesa popped the question late last month as the couple vacationed in Europe. Hola magazine's Mexico edition said the pair was planning a wedding at the end of this year.

He popped the question...and then he popped a boner. Haha, oh man, I'm so immature. Hey, I least I didn't make any housekeeper jokes.

Lorena Ochoa To Marry Mexican Executive [Golf Digest]

There are two primary avenues of legal assault to the LPGA's new policy, first: does the policy violate the civil rights laws of the LPGA's home state—Florida; second: what does English proficiency mean as applied? It sounds simple but one test probably doesn't adequately demonstrate English proficiency. Will there be different standards for different ages? Different countries?

Effectively what the LPGA is doing by implementing this policy is buying a lawsuit. Because it will be challenged and it will take forever to wind through the court system. The players who are challenging the ruling will probably receive an injunction which allows them to continue on tour until the policy runs the course in the legal system. After every court ruling the same headlines will recur, the same issues will be discussed, and the same bad publicity will ensue. Eventually, after six or seven years, the LPGA's policy will be deemed legal or illegal. (See Martin, Casey). Is this contentious path really worth it to the LPGA?

Predictably, the LPGA is already backpedaling from their public relations mess. Noting that their attorney's vetted the proposal before it was announced. Which is always the refuge of the idiots. Because the LPGA's policy may very well be legal. The LPGA's true issue isn't with the legality of the proposed policy, but with the public reaction to that policy. Just because something is legal doesn't mean it's smart. Otherwise every Mississippian would get married when they were 14.

Personally, I'm just hoping that overseas basketball teams are going to require their players to be fluent in the native language as well. Who wouldn't pay to see Shawn Kemp take a test in Italian? Or English for that matter.

LPGA's English Requirement Spurs Calls For Possible Legal Action [Sports Business Daily]

At a mandatory South Korean player meeting Aug. 20 at the Safeway Classic, the tour informed its largest international contingent that beginning in 2009, all players who have been on tour for two years must pass an oral evaluation of their English skills. Failure would result in a suspended membership.

The move was initiated due to the abundance of South Koreans infiltrating the LPGA (45 total) and some "complaints" from pro-am tournament vendors who became annoyed when the winners would be handed a trophy and a sizable check only to stand their waving and nodding like morons in front of the sponsors. (I'm paraphrasing. Kind of.)

But the overall motivation for the initiative is to make sure the LPGA is represented properly in front of the media and that each of its members fully embrace the "entertainment" aspect of the sport, which Hilary Lunke, president of the Player Executive Committee tells GolfWeek is "just as important as shooting under par."

Luckily for Lunke, once the story hits the right wing talk radio circuit, the LPGA will be bringing entertainment to a much larger audience. Mission accomplished.

LPGA To Demand English Proficiency [GolfWeek]

• Says Sorenstam: "I really don't know why Michelle continues to do this. We have a major this week and, if you can't qualify for a major, I don't see any reason why you should play with the men."

• Says Alfreddson: "I feel kind of sad for her. I think she's a very good person. I feel sad for the guidance that she seems to not have in the right direction."

• Says Creamer: "I think, if she wants to be a golfer, she should really concentrate on being on the women's tour and dealing with them and learning to win. Winning is what we are out here for, but I just don't see the interest really on being on the men's tour. I thought she had quit that idea but obviously not."

•Says Wie: "......."

LPGA veterans wonder why Wie is skipping major for PGA tour event [ESPN]

Sorenstam brought notes with her but, for the most part, did not refer to them. She drew a parallel to Brett Favre, but was not overcome by emotion as the Green Bay Packers quarterback was when he announced his retirement in March. "One of the things he said was that he loved the competition but not the daily grind," she said. "I feel the same way."

Wow. Did AP just say that Sorenstam is less girly than Favre? At any rate, it's kind of a sad day, because we're probably seeing the last of the greatest women's golfer of all time. The 37-year-old Swede, who has won 72 tournaments, will make her final event will be the Dubai Ladies Masters after the LPGA Tour season ends. She is engaged to Mike McGee, son of former PGA Tour player Jerry McGee. Let the Michelle Wie Era begin!

But Sorenstam is not the only one to tell their employer to take this job and shove it. Elsewhere in resignation:

• I quit. I have cried myself to sleep every night over the loss of Barry Bonds and I have no more tears to shed. — Peter MacGowan

• Time to quit. I refuse to live in a world where there are ball men. — Justine Henin

• I quit. The health of the Democratic party is much more important than my personal ambition. — Hillary in 2012

• That's it, I quit. ESPN, and everyone, is against me! (runs into bathroom, locks door). — Tom Brady

• Whew! So tired; all that running and jumping and so forth. We quit. — San Antonio Spurs

• You can't fire me, I quit! Oh ... it appears that you can fire me. — Nelson Figueroa

• You'll get this newspaper when you pry it from my cold, dead ... ah $%&! it, I quit. — Kornheiser

• Who am I kidding? Drop those balloons! On to Montana! — Hillary in '08

Today I became the newest member of the LPGA! To all those who were pulling for me, thank you so much for your love and support. Your kind words have definitely helped me get to this point. Thank you thank you thank you!

No, Anna: Thank you. Some vital statistics: She's Australian, and her two favorite movies are The Godfather and Gladiator. Gorgeous, and able to quote Michael Corleone? Someone's been reading my diary!

Anna Rawson On the LPGA [My Golf]

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but an LPGA tournament was the most exciting sporting event I watched this weekend. Thanks a lot for that, LSU. Poor Verne Lundquist is calling the event for CBS. Last week, he was hanging with Bill Raftery at the NCAA tournament. This week, he's with Judy Rankin at an LPGA event. The Lord must be angry with him.

The winner of this particular tournament always jumps into the lake on 18 when they win, and I was kinda hoping that someone hot and wearing a white shirt would win.

Kraft Nabisco Championship [LPGA.com]

And not only is it completely devoid of entertainment value, it's also a month old. The event took place in November. The Champions Tour guys win behind a 2-under-par 68 that Craig Stadler will shoot tomorrow. There. I just ruined it for you. Ha.

This is what happens when Fox can't stop with the damn jingle bells. I end up watching Lorena Ochoa, Christie Kerr (To be honest, I'm just looking for an excuse to post that picture) and Craig Stadler play a month-old meaningless golf event. God, I hate you, Fox.

If we're going to be subjected to male vs. female sporting events, does it have to be golf? Does it have to be figure skating? How about some NBA vs. WNBA action? Say, Ray Allen and Danny Fortson against Sue Bird and Lauren Jackson for basketball supremacy of Seattle? Just as meaningless, but twice as enteraining.

Christie Wins First Golf Tourney [StrangeCosmos]