Worldcom Classic - The Heritage of GolfOpening of WorldCom proves to be a real blast 04/10/01[an error occurred while processing this directive] <BR><FONT SIZE=5>  Opening of WorldCom proves to be a real blast  </FONT><p> <P><font size=2><I>Web posted  <FONT SIZE=2>Tuesday, April 10, 2001</FONT><BR>  <P></I></font><FONT SIZE=2> </FONT> <P><FONT SIZE=2><B>  By Adam Van Brimmer  </B><BR>  <I><A HREF="http://www.savannahnow.com" target="new">Savannah Morning News</A></I>  <P></FONT> <FONT SIZE =3>  HILTON HEAD ISLAND -- He can't describe the pressure.<P> All these people watching, most with fingers in their ears to soften the supersonic-like boom of the cannon. Hearing is the only sense dulled, though. Their eyes wide, their mouths open in anticipation, most hope for a duffer's slice or a worm-burner.<P> Maybe even an old-fashioned whiff.<P> Timing is crucial, he says. Too early leads to embarrassment. Too late to disappointment.<P> The unusual coat is heavy and hot in the afternoon heat. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, breathes in deeply to calm his nerves. He takes his place, ready to perform his duty, one crucial to the traditional opening of the Worldcom Classic.<P> "It's more nerve-racking than trying to hit this green in two shots," says another man minutes later, this one in the distinctive tartan jacket of the tournament's defending champion.<P> But Stewart Cink doesn't know pressure when it comes to this ceremony. All he has to do is hit a golf ball, something he practices every day and has done for most of his life.<P> David Henderson doesn't practice firing a cannon. Neither does his partner, Kevin Parris. Sure, they're veteran "cannoneers" by now -- Henderson in his fourth year, Parris his third. And they did a trial run, but Cink didn't bother to show up and do his part.<P> "There's lots of pressure," Henderson says. "You want to get it just right. It's really all a guess, though."<P> Henderson and Parris are a fraction of a second late today, which is better than being early. The usually anonymous participants in the cannon firing for Monday's Worldcom Classic opening ceremonies at the Harbour Town Yacht Basin, they're all smiles as they pose for photographs just minutes after Cink hammered a low line drive into the sound.<P> "He was a little ahead of us," says Henderson, who along with Parris is dressed in Colonial-era garb. "That's all right. Firing the cannon before they hit it can be really embarrassing."<P> The duo, both wildlife officers at Sea Pines Resort, have a perfect cannon-firing record. They've never been early, although last year the cannon went off just as 1999 champ Glen Day made contact, resulting in a weak pop fly and a shaken Day.<P> The difficulty in the job lies in the cannon's firing mechanism. Henderson and Parris light a fuse, and there is a "significant" amount of time -- a little more than a second, they guesstimate -- between the lighting of the fuse and the firing of the cannon.<P> "It's not like we can just pull a string like on some other cannons," Parris says. "We don't know how fast or slow he swings until he gets out there and takes a practice swing. We just try to light it as he starts his backswing. But everybody's backswing is different."<P> Research is impossible. Watching Cink's swing on television doesn't translate to live action. And then there's the breeze coming off the sound, which worried Henderson and Parris on Monday.<P> The ceremony is one of the more unique ones on the PGA Tour. Just imagine if they fired a cannon during Byron Nelson's and Sam Snead's ceremonial drives at the Masters in Augusta.<P> And it's ironic that the Worldcom Classic, a tournament many call the most relaxing on the PGA Tour, begins with such a distressing bang.<P> "It's a unique experience," Cink says. "It's really a once-in-a-lifetime experience ... unless you win more than once."<P> Or unless your name is David Henderson or Kevin Parris.<P> Sports reporter Adam Van Brimmer can be reached at 652-0347.<P>  </FONT>[an error occurred while processing this directive]