Wherever Lorena Ochoa goes, the Mexican people follow.
You could sense the presence of the Mexican golfer, now No. 1 in the world, hundreds of yards away as she played over the weekend in a tournament outside Mexico City.
First came the roars of support from far down the course, a sign that Ochoa was approaching. Then the clops of feet as fans ran along concrete cart paths to keep up. And finally, the scrambling through flower beds and up grassy hills for a glimpse.
When Ochoa’s golf cart cut through the crowds at the MasterCard Classic, the clicking cellphone cameras and cheers called to mind a presidential motorcade. One sportswriter compared the scene to the screaming Beatles fans of “A Hard Day’s Night.”
In a country where chiseled boxers and elbow-throwing soccer players have dominated sports, it is a societal milestone that the greatest Mexican athlete is a quiet, petite young woman whose picture graces billboards all over the nation.
That the athletic breakthrough came in golf is even more unusual. Mexico, a country of 110 million, has only about 200 golf courses. Here, golf is a sport for the extremely wealthy, as the luxury SUVs in the tournament parking lot attest.
But there are golf fans and there are Ochoa fans, like Albina Vigil, 65. Her son, a greenskeeper, was guiding her around the course and whispering explanations about the sport as they huffed to keep up with Ochoa.
“We hope that she always reach the top spots, that she bring Mexico to the top,” Vigil said. “She’s an honorable representative for women, for Mexicans.”
Ochoa took up golf at age 5. She turned pro in 2002, and broke though last season when she won her first major tournament and took over the No. 1 ranking of the Ladies Professional Golf Association. Ochoa, 26, also became the first female golfer to earn $4 million in a season.
Those who follow golf see more profound effects. It is hard to quantify, but something is happening in Mexico when 12-year-old boys in Chivas soccer shirts wear caps covered with the autographs of female golfers.
“Because she stays so close to her roots as a Mexican woman, she has the ability to transcend sport,” said LPGA Senior Vice President Chris Higgs, who was witnessing Ochoa mania firsthand.
And Ochoa is ushering in a new kind of girl power. On the sun-splashed course, little girls received tiaras from a sponsor’s hospitality tent. They then went to a booth run by Ochoa’s charitable foundation, which supports a school in her native Guadalajara.
The young fans picked up off-beat dolls that looked like sock monkeys. Each had an affirming slogan, including one with a superhero’s cape that said: “Super Me.”
A youth golf champion, Maria Maymon is part of the first generation of young Mexican women shaped by Ochoa’s success. Maria, 15, played alongside her idol as an amateur entrant in this weekend’s tournament.
“She makes you think that if she can do it, I can get there, too,” Maria said during a break in the luxurious Bosque Real clubhouse.
Often described by the media as a reluctant celebrity, Ochoa shyly waved to fans at every hole as dozens of photographers waited to shoot her opening drives.
Ochoa has rarely played well in Mexico, and her caddie blamed her first-round disaster (4 over par, her worst score in a year) on all the people taking pictures.
A relentless competitor who counts “Gladiator” as one of her favorite movies and who scaled Mexico’s 17,000-foot Iztaccihuatl at age 16, Ochoa cares more about winning than putting on a show. Still, she told reporters that she felt “sad and angry” about her showing and that she was disappointing her fans.
She shot a strong 4 under par Sunday to finish the tournament tied for eighth place.
Ochoa was much further behind the leaders most of the weekend, but on the 18th hole of Round 2, she faced a tense moment. She had to blast her way out of the rough and over a water hazard to land the ball on a small island that contained the green.
Hit the water, and she might not make the final cut. The fans gasped as she struck the ball and roared when it landed safely on the green.
At that moment, the leaderboard seemed irrelevant.
As the noise quieted, a man yelled in Spanish: “You’re our girl, Lore!”
———-
oavila@tribune.com
