U.S. Open

The gods of golf at Shinnecock Hills—that is, the USGA members who set up the course—are so jealous of their hallowed par score that they’ll do anything to ensure the sanctity of par 280, even if it means embarrassing some of the world’s best golfers. For example, look at some who failed to make the cut—Rory McIlroy, Jason Day, Jordan Spieth, Jon Rahm, and, although not ranked in the top ten, Tiger Woods, one of the crowd favorites. It also included other top players—Brandt Snedeker, Matt Kuchar, Adam Scott, Bubba Watson, and Sergio Garcia. Even the tv commentaries, Paul Azinger and Curtis Strange, seemed to be afraid to say anything that might anger the USGA gods. Johnny Miller, if he were there, would probably have called it like it is, a course that was set up to be too punitive for minor mistakes. I think it was a tournament that put too great a premium on putting and not on the other, more important elements of the game. Too often we saw a golfer miss a putt and go past the cup two or three feet . . . and then watch it trickle, trickle and then roll off the green and down the back slope. Late afternoon on Saturday, they then decided to syringe the greens (spray water on the greens between groups). Whenever you see them do such a thing, you know they fear they’ve lost the course. On eighteen, anyone who hit a second shot that went any distance above the cup, wound up with a putt that was like putting on linoleum. No matter how gently the putt was struck, if the cup didn’t get in the way, the next putt was ten to twenty feet. That’s just not fair and makes it too much like putting through the clown’s mouth at the local putt-putt course. Putting shouldn’t be that important. On Sunday, the course was set up much easier to avoid any embarrassing moments like the one of number thirteen on Saturday. Phil Mickelson had just hit his fourth putt from about three feet above the cup. When he realized it was probably going to roll down the slope and off the green, he rushed to the ball and hit it while it was still moving, a two-stroke  penalty that resulted in a sextuple bogey ten. Silly. The clown won.

          And speaking of clowns, again we hear from that pack of shrieking idiots who attend golf tournaments for the sole purpose of finding digital fame by screaming words and phrases which identify them when they play back their saved tv coverage—“Babalooie!” “Chicago!” “Saur Kraut!” “In the Hole!” “Come on, Dustin!” “Let’s go Big Guy!” and “Rollex!” I assume these guys are not golfers, have consumed gallons of beer,  and are obnoxious off the course as well as on. I’m surprised that no one has ever told them to put a sock in it. Maybe there isn’t a sock big enough to shut them up.

          On Sunday, we got to see Brooks Koepka hold off contenders to win his second Open in a row with a one-over par total of 281. The sanctity of par was once again maintained. But we also saw Tommy Fleetwood shoot a seven-under 63 to take home second place with the lowest score in U. S. Open history. It was an interesting tournament, but I’d still like to have seen the big names make it to the weekend.