It isn't exactly a newsflash that Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura has zero love for the media. He calls his annual press golf outing "The Jackal Open." And he recently referred to journalists as "dirtbags" which is four letters longer than the usual descriptions we hear.

But Ventura couldn't have been nicer the day of the Third Annual ESPN The Magazine Celebrity Mulligan Classic at Hazeltine National Golf Club, site of this week's PGA Championship. Then again, I wasn't asking him about the keggers his kid had at the state-owned Guv's Mansion, or sticking him on media coverage of his recent trade mission to China. Instead, we talked golf, cigars, acting, Arnold Schwarzenegger, bad backs, NBA trades, salaries, Minnesota's 14,000 lakes (the Guv's numbers, not mine), Charles Barkley, Waverunners, pro wrestling, and that light-hearted conversational icebreaker: how to properly carry a large-caliber machine gun in the jungle.

	The Body tries to muscle it out from the rough.

I've seen worse golfers than Gov. Body. A lot worse. Tennessee Titans running back Eddie George (a Second Annual Mulligan Classic invitee) comes to mind. In fact, the memory of George's 73-over-par round at the Highlands Course at the Atlanta Athletic Club will only be expunged by intensive therapy. Utah coach Rick Majerus shot a 122 at Pebble Beach in the First Annual Mulligan Classic and set a course record for Most Time Spent At The Turn Chowing Down On Hot Dogs. And David Leadbetter doesn't have enough half-hour sessions available to help Charles Barkley (also a Pebble participant) correct America's most bizarre golf swing.

Ventura kept the ball mostly in play, didn't Clinton it on his scorecard (celebrity mulligans were provided once ... okay, twice), and was the only one to propose a Nassau wager on the first tee. He might be a governor, but he had the same hacker's lament when he drove his tee shot into the Hazeltine rough on No. 1: "I hit it great on the range, then I do that."

Ventura's two armed security personnel -- Tony Policano and Jim Englin -- were keepers, too. Englin especially knew how to serve and protect. Forget the death threats that occasionally come Ventura's way -- Englin knew how to take one for the Guv's scorecard. It didn't matter where Ventura sent the ball (the bunker, the rough, the water, the clubhouse restaurant), if you asked Englin how the Governor did, he'd deadpan: "Excellent. He does great on every shot."

And when Milwaukee Bucks star Ray Allen started chirping a little bit at Ventura on No. 16, Englin looked at the adjoining water hazard and said, "How tall are you, Ray?"

I'd like to sic Englin and Policano on the knuckleheads who say the PGA Championship has lost some of its appeal because Tiger Woods didn't win the British Open, thus depriving Hazeltine of becoming the fourth baton on Tiger's Grand Slam relay. Thing is, Hazeltine doesn't need the ghost of Bobby Jones to make it a worthwhile venue or must-see TV. It's no Muirfield, but it has character and nuances worth watching. And by the way, did anyone notice that Tiger won again this past weekend -- and did it without his A-game? Think he has something to prove? Think that won't make for some compelling Minnesota TV?

Anyway, when our Celebrity Mulligan Classic round at Hazeltine was finished, Ventura, Allen, Patrick and company had a few malted beverages in the clubhouse and toasted the day and the course. Nobody got hurt, lost money or was impeached. At one point, I asked Ventura if he were going to run for re-election. He said he hadn't decided, but it was clear that he was considering more financially lucrative choices. So when he announced several weeks later that he was passing on another campaign, I wasn't surprised. After all, the private sector pays better and, of course, that pesky dirtbag factor is eliminated.

If I were the PGA of America, I'd make sure Ventura had an invitation, parking pass and an inside-the-ropes armband for the big tournament. This is a guy playful enough to sneak out the back door of the clubhouse, then tap on the plate glass window to see how bodyguards Englin and Policano react (better than you'd think). And anybody who loves golf enough to bid on Payne Stewart's plus-fours after the 1991 PGA Championship, who asks the all-holy Dalai Lama if he's ever seen Caddyshack, is okay in my jackal notebook.

And in my foursome.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.