NOTES FROM BALTUSROL

After attending the second round of the 2005 PGA Championship this past Friday, I have to say the overall experience was outstanding. The Baltusrol Low Course in Springfield, NJ, was a simply gorgeous, well layed out course (not at all 'hokey'). The sight lines for spectators were great on most holes (in my case, it certainly didn't hurt being tall). Despite the 96° heat (which we quickly got used to), the worst part of the day was enduring the shuttle bus from the Meadowlands. Although we never had to wait, it was just an interminably long ride, taking about 50 minutes to travel 20 miles. It turned out that there were plenty of places to park around the course (including Rob's cousin's house)--oh well. But despite the gaping security hole we walked through upon entering, and the two will-call windows over a mile apart having disparate policies about 'holding tickets', it turned out to be a great day.

Despite their appearance on TV, in person Phil Mickelson, Tiger Woods, and John Daly look skinnier, smaller, and fatter, respectively. It's simply amazing (and humbling) to see these guys drive the ball up close: a nice smooth swing, a sound like a rifle shot at impact, and the ball is drilled into a mini-orbit re-entering the earth's atmosphere over 300 yards away. I clearly don't play the same game as these guys, even though we both call it "golf". Not only that, but they have to hit every shot with thousands of motionless fans staring at them in complete silence, which they're probably used to but I would find unnerving (I think I would prefer the din of 70,000 screaming fans while lining up a field goal, if I had the choice).



After witnessing the "Phil love-fest" in person, I have to say that it's kind of creepy. Yeah, I understand that he's a likeable guy who smiles a lot, and acknowledges the fans even in the midst of a competition, and people respond to that. However, they show their admiration by shouting out his name before and after every shot he takes: "Phil!" "Phil!" "Phil!" is all you hear as he walks around, like hundreds of squawking parrots only taught one word. He must hear his own name thousands of times a day--it's very odd. And although the money is nice, I would not want to be Tiger or Phil. I would much rather be somewhere in the top 20, quietly making more money than God, but less than the head Nike/Buick spokesman; I could live in anonymity and still be respected on the Tour, and not be bothered while trying to play golf. Someone like Sean O'Hair, who is #16 on the money list (with a cool $2M), but you couldn't pick him out of a lineup.

My overall impression of golf fans was that they're well-behaved, funny and knowledgeable. I suppose it's an extension of the laid-back country club atmosphere, and the fact that the athletes aren't hitting each other or drawing any blood. It seemed to me that there are two basic groups of people in the crowd at these events: 'golf' fans and 'celebrity' fans. The celebrity fans follow guys like Tiger, Daly, and Phil around the whole course, whereas the golf fans go from hole-to-hole to try to see the whole course and as many players as possible. We were in that second group, which I think was the right choice; as we stayed a few holes removed from the "Tiger wave", we got to see almost every hole and avoided the big crowds (and also avoided getting hit by a tree limb). Most of the "golf" fans were pretty sarcastic about those who were "celebrity" fans (we'll call them "Tiger hunters"), which I appreciated. Of course, there are also people who just stay in the air conditioned Wanamaker Club or the "corporate chalets" and don't actually get close to the action, but we won't discuss them.

Best player name: Richard Johnson. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, PGA tour pro "Big" Dick Johnson! You can't write these jokes, they write themselves. Though, I probably shouldn't have said that out loud just as he was hitting his approach shot.

Best player moment: seeing Jerry Kelly hole out for birdie from the right green side bunker on the 9th hole, finishing all alone in 2nd place after two rounds, and garnering the coveted "Foster's Shot of the Day".

Worst player moment: Ian Poulter, with his nifty Union Jack slacks, almost spraying us with sand on the 9th, after slamming his wedge into the ground and dropping an F-bomb after he was unable to spin the ball to his liking.

Close call: I saw a guy almost spill four cups of beer at the PGA (potentially a very expensive accident), but then we figured it was probably only Miller. As Rob pointed out, "He spilled almost beer." But then I realized that since he never bought beer in the first place, it was therefore impossible for him to spill beer. Dodged a bullet there.

To sum up, the 87th PGA Championship at Baltusrol was golftacular!