I remember the first (and only) Senior Tour event I ever attended. It was 1994 in Southern California, at the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa. A golf buddy at work convinced me to go since we a) had free passes b) had some time on our hands and c) what the hell, we'd at least get to see some legends.

After parking, we walked up to the nearest tee box behind a large wind-screened fence. Immediately we could spy the scoreboard standard which read: "RODRIGUEZ."

Sweet! Chi-chi! We hustled to a semi-trot past a bunch of fans and to our satisfaction, the great swashbuckler had yet to hit his drive on the 18th hole. I peeped my head between and above a decent throng of fans about two deep, and soaked it in.

The great Chi-Chi. A player I had never seen in the flesh since his regular PGA Tour career came to a relevant close at least a decade too early for me. Chi-Chi set up quickly when it was his turn to hit, gave a few twitching waggles, and slash!

His trademark corkscrew finish didn't look pretty in person, but his ball still got small in a hurry against the horizon. I was flush with excitement for the afternoon ahead, and couldn't wait to go "hunting" for other living golf legends.

Then Chi-Chi slouched into his golf cart, tossed his glove into the front compartment, lit up a smoke, and sped down the fairway with his left foot dangling out the side.

Talk about a bummer.

I know it sounds naïve and petty, but I was both shocked and annoyed to learn that the old dudes rode carts. Why hadn't I known this much going into the event? Because the limited times I had seen the over-50 set play on television, the networks went to incredible lengths not to show us players kicking back in their buggies waiting to hit.

And it is this little anecdote that brings us to the current Champions Tour controversy over golf carts. The tour is now banning them, but a lot of the old/fat/crippled guys are preparing to sue.

Good grief.

I know exactly why the Senior Tour is doing what they are doing. The very sight of supposedly "elite" athletes zipping around fairways like Shriners in go-karts doesn't inspire the masses. To see a guy literally drive right past you -- the paying customer -- while you have to hoof it after him, is the very picture of arrogance, no matter if the player is smiling like a parade queen and throwing $20 bills out the back.

(Note: You may have noticed, that I have only once in this column referred to this circuit as the "Champions Tour" as it is now known. This is because you can put lipstick on a pig, but it still doesn't make me want to sleep with it. Champions? Lots of Club Champions, unfortunately. Far too many Senior Tour players are guys who were never names in the first place. Sure, they can play like mad, and I am sure it's a dream come true -- for them -- but nobody wants to pay to see them play. I won't name names, because it's not their fault. But this is a column and an argument for another day.)

On the one hand, the Tour wants to sell us on the idea that plenty of great golfers can still crush dimples after they hit the big Five-Oh. And this much is true. Especially with technology, most top Senior Tour players are hitting it farther than they did when they played the PGA Tour.