The rewards on the pro golf tour are enormous.
Fame and fortune; celebrity and security.For those players who reach the top level of world golf, income is computed in 7-figure increments and lifetime financial security is all but a foregone conclusion.
In a game searching for identifiable, enduring heroes, a player who can lift himself - ever so slightly - above the masses suddenly is besieged by agents and offers, pleas and demands.
It is exciting and lucrative.
"It's where we're all trying to get to," Davis Love III said before a practice session for the 1992 U.S. Open. "Winning tournaments, winning majors, that's what we all want to do."
But there's a down side to it.
While the player's picture adorns the covers of national magazines, and he's sought by the networks, his time suddenly is not his own.
Pressures he never considered come to bear.
He is hounded for interviews and appearances. His personal life is scrutinized and suddenly becomes public property. His every move and comment and action is observed and criticized.
Some players handle it. Some even welcome it.
Some do not.
Arnold Palmer handled it. The spotlight was his native land. He gloried in it. Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson recognized the value and importance of the press and public attention and learned to handle it. Their success was a part of their greatness.
Lee Trevino made an accommodation with celebrity.
"When I'm on the golf course, I'm theirs'," Trevino said. "But, hey, baby, when I'm off the golf course, my time is mine."
Away from the course, he insulated himself from the outside pressures and secluded himself in his hotel room; dining from the room service menu for days on end, rarely receiving or returning telephone calls.
Ian Baker-Finch had the finest tournament of his career in the 1991 British Open. He has been on a slide since, scoring only two top-10 finishes in the months since his victory.
John Daly's saga has been well documented since his emergence as a folk hero in last year's PGA.
It has been a chronicle of personal problems, paternity and palimonty suits filed and withdrawn, a romance that went bust but developed into marriage and fatherhood.
Except for his vast distance off the tee, his game has shown only fleeting glimpses - at the Tour Championship last year, at Los Angeles and in the Kemper - of the promise shown at Crooked Stick.
And then there's Fred Couples - California laid-back, easy-going Freddie.
He scaled golf's heights with his victory at Augusta, Ga. earlier this year, capping an incredible success string that produced six victories and more than $2.5 in worldwide earnings in a 10-month period.
It was the stuff of legends.
And it put Couples in a funk.
He hasn't finished higher than 22nd since and missed the cut in half the tournaments he played.
"Everybody wants a piece of you," Couples said, harried and harassed by the constant attention.
"I got tired and I got tired of golf."
So, for three weeks, Couples went into seclusion, got some rest and came back. But his game didn't come with him. He missed the cut in his last start.
"We're all trying to play good, win tournaments. That's what everybody is trying to do. That's what I'm trying to do," he said.
"It's all the other stuff that makes it hard - all the demands on you, people pulling you this way and that. It's hard to do."
A wistful expression crossed his face.
"All I want to do is play golf and hang out with my buddies," he said.
But Couples and Love, two of the leading contenders going into the Thursday start of the American national championship, have discovered that success will not allow them that luxury.