A Witness to History Volume 2

The last time I attended a professional golf tournament was the 1991 Greater Hartford Open, a.k.a. “The 5th Major”.  Some of you might remember that event… actually, nobody remembers that event.  The only reason I do is because I got Ian Baker Finch’s autograph 2 weeks after he won the British Open and he never made a cut again.  Frankly I don’t think he hit a fairway after signing my program.  Whatever the case, last week I found myself at Torrey Pines in San Diego, California for the 108th United States Open and needless to say, things turned out a little different.    

First of all, how did I end up at Torrey Pines for the U.S Open?  Let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy who works for the USGA – supposedly he’s a big Barstool fan, too.  (Who isn’t?)  Anyway me and a few buddies decided to skip the 1st round of the tournament on Thursday for Padres/Dodgers at Petco Park where I correctly guessed “Andy Hawkins” as the answer to the 5th inning trivia question.  On Friday, however, it was onto the Open. 

Now if you watched any of the first-second round coverage on ESPN I’m sure you noticed the weather at Torrey Pines was not exactly what you picture when you think of southern California.  I’ve never been so I’m thinking 85 and sunny everyday, right?  Wrong.  The “June Gloom” had set in, which nobody had told me about, and it was cloudy and cool with temperatures in the 60’s.  Minus the pot bunkers and bag pipes, it reminded more of the British Open than the U.S.

The course was awesome though.  As everybody saw over the weekend, Torrey Pines is situated on a giant cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  Granted it was cloudy, but other than Pebble Beach, I’m not sure there’s a more picturesque golf course on the planet. Yes, including Cromwell.

Our first order of business on Friday was catching up with the top 3 ranked players in the world: Tiger Woods, Phil “Man Boobs” Mickelson and Adam Scott, all who were playing together.  So, fighting the 50,000+, we made our way up to the downhill par 3 11th where the greatest threesome since “Wild Things” was about to tee off. 

Now I don’t remember where any of their tee shots landed, but what I do remember is the army of people who followed Tiger down the fairway. 

For a pro in the U.S. Open, you share the fairway with the caddies, 2 cops and the kid who carries the scoreboard.  For Tiger, and this was the case in each round, it’s the caddies and the scoreboard kid, 4 cops, camera man, sound man, XM radio guy, Roger Maltbie, random USGA people, Rick Reilly (on Saturday and Sunday) and roughly 15 photographers.  It’s fucking crazy.  Forget the gallery, there are more people in Tiger’s fairway than in some of these guy’s fan clubs.  Not the big names of course, but the “never heard of him” players like Brian Bergstol, who almost hit us with his tee shot on the 5th hole en route to an 81.  

Friday ended rather innocently, other than seeing Tiger run back and forth to the “player’s only” Porto-Potty after hitting his drive on the 4th hole, I didn’t really witness anything too memorable on the golf course.  Little did I know what was in store for me the next two days…

Saturday – 3rd round.  “Moving Day”.  After a night of heavy drinking culminating on a complimentary hotel booze cruise where a career stoner in his 50’s played “Cocaine” and several other classic rock songs on electric guitar, we arrived at Torrey Pines kind of late - around 4:00 local time (hey, when in Rome) about a half-hour before the leaders teed off. 

As soon as we got to the course on Saturday we stopped by the putting green and, of all people, saw Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate shooting the shit before they teed off.  It’s nothing monumental, but it just struck me how A., losers clap for Tiger when he chips-in a shot in practice, and B., how legitimately friendly he and Rocco appeared to be.  You could tell by their body language that nothing was awkward or forced like it is with Tiger and Phil, for example.

Anyway the weather sucked again.  I almost wanted a refund.  Still, I was at Torrey Pines for the U.S. Open and I couldn’t complain.  So, after following the Miguel Jimenez-Lee Westwood pairing for a few holes, we decided to park our asses in the grandstand at one of the toughest holes on the course, the par 4, 15th.  Ugh.

Seriously I don’t think we saw one birdie the entire time.  In fact, I know we didn’t.  It was just par after par after par, mix in a few bogeys, then more pars and even more pars.  That’s the other thing about U.S. Open’s – it’s not like a regular PGA Tour event or even The Masters, only 2 players, Tiger and Rocco, finished the tournament under par.  So there’s really not too much to cheer about throughout the day, I mean you can only get so excited for a par.  Drinking kind of helps though…

Now, once the leaders had completed 15 we had a decision to make - continue on to 16-17-18 or do something else?  My mind was already made up.  I was going to skip 16 and head down to 17 and 18 to at least see Tiger finish his round.  Why?  Well while technically yes, I did witness the great Donald Hayes break the all-time Dig Dug record at an arcade hall in Bumblefuck, New Hampshire back in January, this was a slightly different situation. All due respect to Hayes, but I never got to see the 2 greatest athletes of my generation, Jordan and Gretzky, compete in person.  This was my chance to see Tiger.  Win or lose it honestly didn’t matter.  Tiger playing in the 3rd round of the U.S. Open was just something I didn’t want to miss.  Plus, what else am I going to do?  I got nowhere to go.  

My buddies for some reason weren’t as fired-up, and opted instead to hit the merchandise tent to “buy shit” for their friends and family.  Whatever.  I told them I was going solo on this one and I’d meet up with them later.  Keep in mind cell phones aren’t allowed on the course so we had to use a little pre-1999 strategy here and actually pick a place ahead of time to convene.  Shocking, I know. 

“See you at the car in an hour”, I suggested.  “Fine”.

Well I’m sure everybody’s seen the highlights 25 times by now but needless to say that will go down as the one of the greatest decisions ever made.   

Washington crosses the Delaware… Celtics trade for Allen and Garnett… Manzo stiffs his friends and watches Tiger play 17 and 18 on Saturday…  I mean it has to be up there.

The time was now around 7:30 p.m. and for the first time the sun, yes – the fiery ball in the center of the solar system, had appeared.  Granted it was setting, but nonetheless it actually existed in June in San Diego. 

At that point I made my way as close to the 17th green as I could in order to see Tiger and the other guy (Robert Karlsonn) finish the hole.  No idea what Karlsonn did but Tiger chipped his ball from just off the green (“ONE TIME!”), one bounce and into the cup.  Pandemonium erupted for a miracle birdie and the next thing you know I’m high-fiving random dudes for no reason.  “Hahaha, my buddies are off buying hats!” I said to myself, loving the fact that they’re missing this.  Oh well, onto 18!

Again I skipped the fairway and just booked-it down the sidelines, trying to get as close as possible to the green.  It was during this time where apparently Tiger was doing all his limping and grimacing after every shot.  No idea, didn’t see it.  Didn’t even know he was hurt until later.  When he finally arrived at the 18th green, the scene was set for more dramatics as Tiger was on in 2.   Now keep in mind the crowd on 18 obviously knew what happened on the last hole so there was definitely a buzz circulating the gallery.  Still, I’ve never heard 25,000 people that quiet in my life as Tiger lined up his putt for eagle. 

I actually couldn’t see him from my vantage point. All I saw was the ball rolling and the hole… 

Uh oh…   people going ballistic… PEOPLE GOING BALLISTIC…  

HOLY SHIT HE FUCKING MADE IT!   

Again I’m high-fiving random dudes for no reason while my buddies are off buying hats.  Unbelievable!   Who knew golf was this much fun?  I mean this was the greatest player on the biggest stage making the greatest shots of his life.  Just like the Dig Dug guy, except different. 

Birdie-eagle to end the day put Tiger, who was 1-over going into 17, now 2-under and in the lead after 3 rounds.  I took a shuttle to the parking lot and met my buddies who were just a tad upset about what they had missed.  As I told them, “I hope it was one hell of a hat.”

Sunday – 4th round.  After Saturday, everything from this point forward was gravy.  I had already got my money’s worth (tickets were free) and I just considered myself lucky to be there. 

Again, decision time.  Follow Tiger and Westwood or camp out at a particular hole?  Well as expected on the 4th round of the U.S. Open with Tiger in the lead, it was a circus trying to follow his group.  Instead we caught the action on the 6th green for the first part of the day and then the 16th green for the second.  Like yesterday, not many birdies at all, however what I liked about 16 (uphill par 3 overlooking the water) was that not only was there a beer tent along side the fairway, but you could see the 16th green and the 17th tee simultaneously.  Sort of a “three for one” deal. 

Anyway after watching the also-rans play the 16th hole for an hour or so, the leaders were now approaching.  If I remember correctly - Rocco had a terrific par save, then came Tiger and Westwood who also made par to remain one shot back of Mediate with two holes to play.   Like Saturday though, I was forced to abandon the group.  They didn’t want to continue ahead because of the crowds so I would have to go in alone to see the end of this tournament. 

It was me vs. 50,000.  And I liked my odds.

Using my speed-walking skills I had obtained from years and years of being late to freaking everything in Boston, I hurried down 17 and made my way up to the final hole.  Looking out from behind the 18th tee – you could see the sea of humanity I’d have to face both behind the green and along side the fairway to get a decent look at the pin.  So I basically just barreled my way down the right side in record time until I found myself about 20 yards from the green and 15 people deep from the ropes.  Couldn’t see anything though.  Backed up a few yards, still couldn’t see.  Grandstands in the way, trees, 50,000 people.  Fuck.  So I retraced my steps and found a spot about 100 yards from the hole and only 5-6 people deep.  Granted it wasn’t exactly the distance I was looking for but nonetheless, I could see the flagstick. 

Rocco and Geoff Oglivy finished up and the stage was set for Tiger and Westwood, both who were 1 shot back of Mediate.

Now thanks to the American Express hand-held TV’s a few rich people were carrying, we were still able to see what was happening off the tee.  Not sure where Westwood went (I think the rough) but Tiger’s shot landed in the bunker. 

After Westwood’s 2nd shot, which landed on the left side of the fairway, Tiger was next from the trap.  Again, everybody around me was huddled around 1 dude with a TV like he had naked pictures of Tiger’s wife.  It was that important to see what would happen. 

“He’s laying up” somebody said.

Sure enough, Tiger hit his 2nd shot, we waited about 3 seconds, and all of a sudden, a Nike golf ball landed softly 15 feet in front of us. 

“Hey, I know that ball!” 

That’s right, Tiger’s ball landed right smack in front of us.  How close was the ball?  Well if you were watching TV I was the guy with the hat on, but seriously I was close enough to see the Nike “swoosh” on the ball and hear the blades of grass on his practice swings.  It was just pure luck.  Good luck, too.

Obviously by now the tension was palpable.  I wasn’t even playing and I was nervous.  I couldn’t imagine having a club in my hand.  That’s the thing about golf vs. some of the other sports – all the nervous energy is bottled up.  You can’t clap, you can’t yell, you basically can’t even move until the guy hits the ball.  It felt like forever from the time Tiger took his first practice swing to the time he struck the ball.  When he finally did make contact, the shot looked good from my angle, and it sure enough he placed it safely on the green about 12 feet from the cup.

At that point as Tiger was marching towards the green I remember just looking around, trying to savor the moment – I’m on the 18th hole at Torrey Pines for the U.S. Open and Tiger has a birdie putt to force a playoff.  I mean what are you nuts?  I should be back home watching TVG or something.

Back to the action… once Westwood missed his birdie putt to tie Rocco – obviously all eyes were on Tiger.  Again, the tension level was off the charts.  But to a man, nobody thought he would miss that putt.  It actually looked closer in real life than on TV but with so many trees, people and bleachers in my line of sight, I decided to just focus on the hole and wait…   

Can’t see, can’t see, THERE IT IS... IT’S GOOD!!

After Tiger rolled it in, actually even before that, 50,000 dorks just went completely bananas, berserk, insane, whatever you want to call it.  The only thing missing was Rodney yelling "Hey everybody, we're all gonna get laid!" It was just incredible.

A few minutes later when things settled down the PA guy came on and announced, “There will be an 18 hole playoff starting tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.  We’ll see you all there...”  Fuckin’ A.   My flight left in 3 hours. 

Once I met up with my buddies in the parking lot again and told them my story, I immediately called JetBlue to change my flight.  Under $100 I was staying, over $100 I was leaving.  I almost pulled the Costanza “Death certificate” routine but I couldn’t muster up the bad karma to do it. 

$308 was the cost to change the flight so I decided to call it a trip and skip the Monday playoff.  And the thing is, I don’t even regret it.  Not even a little.  Okay maybe a little.  I just didn’t think anything could top what I saw the last 2 days.  Plus I have to work for a living, too.  My Barstool salary only goes so far. 

Looking back a week later, I haven’t been to a World Series or Super Bowl, but that was the greatest sporting event I’ve ever attended.  It has to be.  And I’m no golf historian, but other than the ’86 Masters, can you get any more dramatic?  I watched the final round on tape on the plane just to make sure what I saw with my own eyes actually happened. 

The bottom-line is sure, this wasn’t the ’91 GHO and sure, this wasn’t the guy breaking the all time record in Dig Dug.  This was just the greatest golfer of all time playing in what he called “the greatest tournament of my life.”  And for now, that’s just going to have to do.