There is a 15-year-old girl whose favorite color is pink and asks her dad if it’s OK to chill at the shopping mall with friends. Michelle Wie recently got a part-time job that pays her $10 million per year.
There is a 15-year-old girl who wears lime green and asks her dad if it’s OK to attend a rock concert on a school night. Jordan Kiszla recently bought a dress for the homecoming dance that cost 150 bucks.
I’m thinking it might be a good idea if my daughter could land work at the same place that employs B.J. Wie’s kid.
I’d even be willing to pull all the carpool duty.
Wie and I both have daughters who are tall, store their math books in a locker and like listening to Coldplay.
When his daughter crushes a drive 300 yards, Wie nervously frets about her keeping it in the fairway.
When my daughter drives the car 30 mph, I fidget unnecessarily about her keeping it between the white lines.
All fathers of 15-year-old daughters worry about them growing up too fast.
The $10 million has nothing to do with it.
Whether a daughter dreams of growing up to practice medicine, fly a jet or win the Masters, there is a lot of hand-wringing to be done.
But the worst worrywarts are not dads. They’re chauvinists, muscle-headed bouncers for the old, outdated rules of the games people play.
As Wie has discovered at a young age, it’s still revolutionary to be an ambitious young woman in this man’s world.
Wie once observed the male ego is amazingly fragile.
How true.
The squealing you hear this week is from the pigs who insist Wie has done nothing to earn endorsement deals from Nike and Sony that could be worth $10 million annually.
In an America where adults with two college degrees often find themselves stuck in rush-hour traffic to dead-end jobs, there will always be insane jealousy for a teenager who has figured out the rat race is never won by running on the same treadmill where everyone else is sweating every penny.
The truth is Wie has achieved more before her 16th birthday than male phenoms LeBron James, Dwight Gooden or Herschel Walker ever did at the same age.
Although she was granted exemptions to enter only a handful of LPGA tournaments in 2005, Wie proved she belonged on the course with finishes that would have earned more than $600,000 in prize money, ranking her 12th on the money list, if she had turned pro before her announcement on Wednesday.
The LPGA won’t allow her full tour privileges until she turns 18. Wie found a way to beat the system.
Beneath Wie’s unreal talent is a real kid who giggles and speaks in teen lingo rather than the corporate speak that has made Tiger Woods seem like a golf automaton.
To grow, a gifted kid needs room to breathe. B.J. Wie and his wife must have done something right by allowing their daughter to step off the 18th green and back into childhood.
Grown men, however, are scared of Wie. Why? She is the first female athlete to cause the male ego to shudder with the fear of humbling change.
Guys with barely enough athletic ability to click the TV remote from “SportsCenter” to “The Best Damn Sports Show” smugly believe all is right in their testosterone-laced world so long as the best woman can never defeat a male pro in any game tougher than Bunko.
Now, there is a 15-year-old girl who wants to pick up a driver and smash conventional chauvinistic wisdom.
Wie going pro before scurrying back to high school to attend art class?
Sure, I worry it’s a little soon. I’m the dad of a 15-year-old girl. Worry is what I do best.
But a 15-year-old daughter who aspires to beat the pants off the men at their own game?
There’s no doubt how I feel about Wie’s crazy ambition.
Any father strong enough to support his daughter’s dreams would say the same thing: You go, girl.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
