I first interviewed Michelle Wie nine years ago, in 2000, when she was 10.

I was in Hawai'i reporting a story on June Jones, who was then the most popular sports figure in the state. University of Hawai'i sports information director Lois Manin mentioned that there was a kid on the island who could drive a golf ball 300 yards.

I must say I was not that interested until Lois said the kid was a girl, and she was 10. I asked for a number, and Lois wrote down "BJ Wie" and an 808 phone number on a Post It.

I called the next day from my hotel. BJ was polite, and insisted right away in his light voice that "she has a very normal life." He quickly put his only daughter on the phone. Michelle was then, as now, happy to talk about golf but eager to talk about other subjects as well, like Digimon and Pokemon and Laura Ingalls Wilder and Gelly Roll pens. I wrote a first-person story for ESPN Magazine, which became the first national article about Michelle Wie.

I never expected to talk to the Wies again, and I certainly never expected to write a book on them. But I kept track of the girl from Hawai'i and found myself dialing BJ's number fairly often as Michelle's career took off. I felt their excitement as they began to read Michelle's name over and over again in the newspapers and online.

BJ was both deeply proud and a little bit nervous. He believed very much in his daughter, but he was shy about his English and his wife, Bo, rarely said a word even when we were all together. Michelle took everything in stride, but her parents seemed to take public skepticism, however petty, with consternation and sometimes anger. I got a call from BJ after the Danielle Ammaccapane run-in at Pumpkin Ridge in 2003 (she berated and allegedly bumped his daughter at the U.S. Women's Open), and he seemed shocked at the outcry. He seemed fearful, actually. I spoke to Michelle that weekend as well and even though she called the incident humiliating, she sounded as brave and unaffected as always. 

The idea for a book emerged only as it became clear that Michelle was going to turn pro. I wanted to see how an innocent girl from Hawai'i would do when asked to turn promise into performance. Although the Wies were open to the idea at first, the book would be unauthorized. The family gave me some extra access, for which I am grateful, but it was clear they wanted to eventually write their own book. So except in a few instances, I got no special treatment. I decided that if the book sold well enough to turn a profit, I would donate a portion of the proceeds to a children's charity, since that was something Michelle herself had done with her earnings. However, I never told the Wies about this.

The last time I spoke with Michelle, in January, was very much like the first time: for a first-person story in ESPN Magazine. She was once again willing to talk about golf but excited to talk about Stanford and her life as a student. She had come to terms with the reality that a lot of people wanted her to be a 14-year-old phenom instead of a 19-year-old LPGA rookie.

I am often asked if it's too soon to write a book about a teenager, and I'm often asked if it's too late to write a book about Michelle Wie. Both are valid questions. But I always think back to a press conference at the U.S. Open in Massachusetts in 2004 when Wie was 14. She was asked by a Korean-American reporter how she felt about a recent beheading in Iraq of a South Korean hostage. She immediately looked sad and searched for words. Eventually she said, "I'm just a golfer, guys." I believe Wie's days as a child prodigy are over, and the book chronicles that period of her career. But her days as "just a golfer" are only beginning, and I hope they bring her enough happiness and success so that she can one day write a book of her own.