Storybook Ending
What can save golf from an uninspiring major championship season? With only the PGA Championship left, John Hawkins has the ideal week in mind
A Tiger Woods-John Daly Sunday duel at Hazeltine would be a memorable way to conclude the major championship season.
Related Links
If there's no such thing as a lousy major championship, some are a lot more memorable than others. Vintage final-round performances, star-stacked leader boards and a hearty dose of suspense are what separate the unforgettable from the regrettable. In 2009, we've been dealt a serious case of regrets only.
Through no fault of the men who have claimed the year's three biggest titles, each '09 major has been defined by those who lost the tournament. Kenny Perry's Masters meltdown was a disheartening finish to an otherwise great week, but four months later, KP's demise seems upbeat compared to the crash landings that punctuated the U.S. and British Opens.
Again, not to take anything away from Lucas Glover and Stewart Cink. You play to win, and those guys did, but when Phil Mickelson and David Duval both reach Bethpage's 17th tee with perhaps a 50 percent chance of forcing a playoff, each script featuring a teary-eyed finish for the ages, it's hard not to feel demoralized when both fairy tales dissolve in the time it takes to miss a five-footer for par.
Glover played the final hole with a two-stroke lead in his pocket and a 6-iron in his best interests, which left him nothing more than a 9-iron to the green and the rest of us wondering how a day of stunning developments could end with such an anticlimax. As dreary endings go, however, the U.S. Open couldn't touch the British. If Tom Watson's second shot at the 18th travels one yard shorter than it did, he taps in for par, wins his sixth claret jug and sidles right up next to Jack Nicklaus (1986 Masters) as owners of the greatest victories in golf history.
That four-hole tiebreaker at Turnberry? It wasn't a playoff. It was a massacre. Watson arrived in the media center and immediately announced that it wasn't a funeral, but he was only half-right. In 2009, we've witnessed the death of the spectacular storyline, not once, not twice, but at least three times, maybe four.
So we're due. Next week's PGA Championship promises nothing more than 72 holes of premium competition at Hazeltine, a venue that has defied the law of averages before, but until the golf gods quit showing off their morose sense of humor, we're slaves to the bounce of the ball. It will take a terrific PGA from start to finish if 2009 is to be saved. On that note, I've already worked up a full-scale recovery plan.
Tuesday: The pre-tournament presence of Dave Hill delights those familiar with the former tour pro's disparaging remarks about Hazeltine during the 1970 U.S. Open. Asked what the eight-year-old course needed, Hill replied, "Eighty acres of corn and a few cows. They ruined a good farm when they built this place." Almost four decades later, the old-school curmudgeon has returned to make peace at age 72. "When I die, I'd like my ashes scattered across the grounds," Hill says. It's touching stuff, great early-week copy, but seriously? Talk about ruining a good rant.
Wednesday: A smiling, clean-shaven Sergio Garcia declares himself "born again" as a competitor on the eve of the final major and says his boorish, pouty-puss days are a thing of the past. During a lively, eyebrow-arching visit to the media center, Garcia admits he thought about quitting the game after breaking up with Morgan-Leigh Norman, Greg's daughter, shortly before the Masters, but says now he recognizes how fortunate he truly is. "Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to the New Sergio," Garcia announces. The European press can't stop drooling.
Thursday: The 93rd PGA Championship begins with an onslaught of record-low scoring: close to half the field in the 60s and nine guys at 65 or better, including Woody Austin, who becomes the first player ever to shoot 61 at a major. A double-bogey at the 18th derails Woody's pursuit of golf's magic number, however, leaving the first-round leader in no mood for self-glorification. "I choked my guts out," Austin says.
