These Guys are Good

I would have written more of these, but I just haven't had time. I'm working full-time, catching up with old friends, and golfing. Yes, golfing. I've played (rough estimate) at least 20 times since getting home about a month and a half ago. I'm up to at least two times a week, sometimes three. I am a born again golfer. I am now of the belief that every human is born with a love of golf and it just took me 20 years to discover mine. I have seen the light, and it is good.

I am by no means good at this game. Horrendous actually. After a month and a half all I have to show for it is a low round of 96 (+24), an increasingly emptier bank account, and a broken pitching wedge (long story--not worth it). Even still, I love this game, which is why Sunday June 17th was perhaps the greatest day of my life.

On father's day I was fortunate enough to attend one of the most interesting sporting spectacles the world has ever known, the final round of the United States Open. I actually stumbled into a grounds pass for this event. Through the company I am working for this summer, I had the chance to volunteer at a concessions tent for six hours in exchange for the rest of the day's worth of golf. I worked from 10am til 4pm. A long, hot time filled with wrapping cheeseburgers, stocking drinks, and pouring more Yingling and Coors Light than should be allowed by law. Despite all that, it was all worth it.

At 4:00 I ran out of the concessions tent and straight for the course. I caught up with the action when the final pair (Baddeley and Woods) was on the 5th hole. I made my way to the sixth green and watched Ames and Casey putt out while I waited for Tiger. The first time I saw Tiger Woods in person was left off of the sixth green in a sand bunker. Remember that sand wedge out of the bunker onto six? Ya. I was about 30 feet behind Tiger. The only people closer were the handful of Asian photographers (not sure why they were all Asian, but they were) and his caddie, Steve. Tiger hit a decent shot out of the deep bunker, and he made it look so easy. Although I make shooting my 96 look easy too, but that might just be because it is. You decide.

After that I went ahead of Tiger and watched a few groups play the long par-5 12th hole. I saw the eventual champ, Angel suck down a cigarette, Bubba Watson in his green visor rip a monstrous drive, and hometown boy, Jimmy Furyk as well. It was amazing seeing these guys in person, but it wasn't overly impressive. They are just normal guys playing golf, who happen to be ungodly good. It's unlike any other sport. They are so much more accessible, and yet they are still respected. There is a certain professional etiquette in golf that everyone present abides to, and it rarely gets abused, if at all. It is because of the accessibility that they seem oddly human. They wear the same clothes that we do when we golf. No uniforms. They get just as mad as we do when they mess up (only less often). They replace their divots and their ball marks. Their talent is above that of any weekend hack, but they are not above the game. Its oddly refreshing.

After my stint at 12, I spent some time at 15 and then scurried to the par-4 18th to get a good view of the green. I had a funny feeling it was gonna come down to a stroke. I got to 18 just in time to see Angel hit the longest, straightest drive I have ever seen. He made his par and got into the clubhouse at +5. Everyone knows what happened next. Furyk pooped his pants at 17 and again at 18 to finish second at the Open for the second year in a row, and Tiger, as was par for the course (pun intended), missed a 22-foot putt that would have forced a Monday playoff.

I have never seen the air go out of a place as quickly as did the excitement after Tiger botched that final putt. It would be like taking that damn Snoopy blimp that flew around all week and driving a Mac truck right through it. I have never seen that many people so quickly disappointed at the one time, and remember - I attend Pirate games.

In the mad dash toward the shuttles and ultimately home, I literally ran into ESPN's Tom Rinaldi. A good man. A great features reporter. And one weird looking dude in that camera make-up. I suspect he was looking for Tiger to interview, but he should have been looking for Angel Cabrera, because he was the best golfer for a week on one of the worlds hardest courses at the most elite of levels.

Overall it was a great day. I was within 30 feet of Tiger Woods at least four times, which is slightly obsessive and ridiculously immature, but I don't care, because he is just that good. I saw other great golfers do somethings with golf balls that I could never even dream of. Literally. I didn't know hitting the ball that far and that straight was possible. It was a long, sweaty day filled with work and an enjoyable round of golf, and even though I worked for 6 hours and stood for almost 5 more I was just grateful to be there (which is more than we can say for a whiny Mickelson who boo-hooed his way to blaming the USGA and the course set up for his wrist injury and missing the cut for the first time in 30 majors).

For me, it was all worth it. It may not have been the best day of my life, but it was certainly a once in a life time opportunity that I will remember for quite some time. My final memory of that day will be me trudging through the fairway rough (which is disgustingly high -- the television did it no justice) on 10 and down the fairway toward the shuttle with the sun at my back before hearing "Outside the ropes, sir" in the most irritated and violent voice I have ever heard. I thought to myself, "It's a golf course. psycho: it's meant to be walked on. Relax. The tournament's over, get a $6 Yingling."

After seeing that course, if I played it my low round of 96 would easily double to a 192 (+122).

But then again, that's why I spent my day watching normal guys hit shots and make plays I flat-out can't. Those PGA commercials don't lie: These Guys are Good.

My only regret: not seeing more.