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Date: 23 Aug 2006 22:25:43
From: Tim Mocarski
Subject: my one day at the pga
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I got to go to my second major championship, The 88th PGA Championship
held at Medinah Country Club. Who knows maybe someday I'll get to see
a Masters and Open Championship. I know that many people have been
there and done that, but for a Polack from a bungalow in Chicago, it
would be dream trip to Augusta and Britain.
I went on Friday, before Tiger Woods once again kicked ass in a major.
Guess the swing changes and his dad's death are behind him. The
announcers should stop asking him about it. They should also stop
falling over their tongues in singing their praises of the guy. Yeah,
he is the best golfer playing right now. And he probably will
eventually surpass Jack Nicklaus and Sam Snead in majors and PGA
victories. Records are meant to be broken, but don't mean diddly.
Neither does the money earned. I got to grow up listening to the
Western Open on the radio and saw Hogan and Snead. I got to see Arnie
and Jack and Gary win their majors. Now I get to see the best player
on the planet.
So I went on Friday, cut day in a tournament, where big names and
also-rans saw their dreams go into the water, the woods, the bunkers,
but not in the hole quickly enough.
Thursday and Friday at a tournament is definitely not the same as a
weekend, especially when most of the crowds are following Tiger Woods
and Phil Mickleson and Geoff Ogilvy. The PGA traditionally puts the
winners of the other three majors together the first two days. So
about 15000 people walked the 7500 plus yards of Medinah following
three guys around and didn't get to see much of anything other than the
backs of the heads of the ten deep sidelines of people. I got to walk
the yardage and saw other players make great shots, great recoveries,
great putts and play their butts off far better than my meager game
would ever allow me to do.
After David Duval pulled his tee shot beyond the gallery ropes over a
cart path and about a foot into the woods, he had no choice but to try
to hit a little dribbler out to where he had some type of shot. He hit
it too far, though, and a distinct, "sit, sit, sit" was quickly
followed by an even more distinct, "Shit! Fuck!" When Miguel Jimenez
hit his Srixon golf ball on the fifth hole into the rough, it looked as
if he had no shot, and we were tempted to tell him that that is what he
gets for playing a Srixon. "Did you know, Miguel, that no player has
ever one a major championship with a Srixon and a pony tail?" We would
have said that to him, but he did not look to pleased with the shot he
had to make. Spanish steam was rising off his neck.
With 15000 people following Tiger and Phil around those two days,
nobody, it seemed, was paying much attention to the other players. The
crowd just moved along aimlessly, trying to catch of glimpse of the
great player and the guy who could be great if he had just learned to
take a two iron off the 18th tee at Wingfoot in the U.S. Open when a
par is good enough and a bogey still gets a tie. Yeah, Phil may be a
nice guy and all that, but on the golf course he has rocks between his
ears for that bonehead move. I don't expect him to be in contention
for another tournament let alone another major for the the rest of his
career. Anyway, the crowd always was thin before the threesome went
through, swelled to ten deep when they were on a hole, and nearly
disappated after they moved on. Like lemmings following the leaders
off a cliff.
That allowed for more interaction with the players who seemed to
appreciate the hangers on paying attention to their game and not the
big names. Like Chad Campbell. He pulled a tee shot on the fifth hole
about ten feet from where we were standing. A crowd of about 20 people
were watching Duval hit his dribbler. My friend and I turned around
and saw Campbell do the right thing with his shot, hit it under the
trees about 175 yards to a spot in the fairway where he had an easy
wedge to the par five green for a chance at a birdie, which he made.
Young players could learn a lot about how to play the game from
watching guys like Campbell instead of go for broke bonehead players
like Phil. It was a great shot, the right shot for that moment, and
my friend and I were the only ones close enough to see it. Well, maybe
some people across the fairway saw it, but probably not since another
big name, Retief Goosen, was over there in the trap. And even if
somebody did see it, we two were only about ten feet away, so we let
him know, "Nice shot Chad!" He turned and saw that we were the only
two around, and seemed to appreciate that we paid attention to what he
was trying to do. He saw that we were the only two guys around and
seemed surprised, he nodded, smiled, and said thank you.
We said nice shot to Jimenez, too, earlier. He hit that stupid Srixon
ball ponytail and all, and made a great shot to the green, a high fade
that allowed him to get his par. But I think the Spanish steam was
still rising even though he did say thanks.
Luke Donald was on the practice green, chipping from short rough. We
were on the clubhouse veranda watching him. He hit one to about a
foot of the cup. Sank one. Then he shanked one. I mean really
shanked it. Straight right. We had to laugh. "Hell, I could that!"
I said. Donald laughed, turned around and smiled. Put his finger to
his lips and whispered conpiritorially, "Sssssh!" Don't ever say the
word "shank" around a pro in a major. It's sorta like never saying
"Macbeth" around an actor when he's performing the Scottish play.
Heck, don't ever say the word "shank" around any golfer as it
invariably leads to somebody getting the shanks.
It started to drizzle and mist a bit in late afternoon. We started to
head out toward the clubhouse, retracing our steps from the course.
The once crowded second hole had only a few stragglers watching
players hit on to the par 3. The crowd had been ten deep around the
green and on the hillside until Tiger and Phil went by. Now we could
actually see the green and the long high tee shot of the players. How
those guys hit a 190 yard shot that high and that soft, I'll never
know. Well, okay, I do know. They were hitting 5 or 6 irons over the
water where I would be hitting a 3 iron on my good days and a 5 wood
most of the time. Some of them were hitting 7 irons on the hole.
Before we left we got to urge Jerry Kelly to get enough Ryder Cup
points. He needed to finish in the top ten, but didn't.
Mike Weir hit a beautiful shot into the second that landed and stopped
almost immediately about two feet from the cup. It was easily the best
shot we saw on a par three that day. We got to the bridge leading back
to the first hole, the clubhouse, and the busses back to the parking
lot. Weir came off the bridge went straight to the Porta potty. Even
the rich and famous have to shit and pee was an observation made by
Donovan on and obscure song and album. We stuck around a bit. "Nice
shot, Mike!" my friend said as Weir walked by. Weir was at -2 at that
point in the tournament and would eventually finish 6th. As he walked
toward the green, I said, "Berk (my friend's name for short) here has
you in the fantasy pool this week." Weir just about fell over
laughing. I like to think the thought spurred Weir on to play better,
make the cut, and do well on the weekend. Berk now leads his fantasy
league in money earned.
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Date: 24 Aug 2006 05:08:25
From: rich
Subject: Re: my one day at the pga
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"Tim Mocarski" <poetryrocksnow@yahoo.com > wrote in message
news:230820061725422311%poetryrocksnow@yahoo.com...
>I got to go to my second major championship, The 88th PGA Championship
> held at Medinah Country Club. Who knows maybe someday I'll get to see
> a Masters and Open Championship. I know that many people have been
> there and done that, but for a Polack from a bungalow in Chicago, it
> would be dream trip to Augusta and Britain.
>
>etc.
Nice report, Tim, thanks.
Rich
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