Straight Man

The United States Open is no laughing matter. Not if you're one of those wrinkly nosed gents at the USGA who thinks a fleet of ambulances should serve as courtesy cars at our national championship. Certainly not to Joe Tour Pro, who glides into town on a month of 67s, fires a pair of 76s and leaves with an acute case of scorecard dyslexia.

Most definitely not to Jim Furyk, who bogeyed the 72nd hole to lose by a stroke in 2006, bogeyed the 71st hole to lose by a stroke in 2007, then took a vacation that turned out to be well-timed and therapeutic. "The second one hurt more," he admits of Oakmont. "Being from Pennsylvania, getting so much support from the crowd and not being able to pull it off. I've thought about it, but that kind of stuff never bothers me. It's a game where you're going to deal with a bunch of disappointment, and I've always been able to get over things."

Which is a good thing, although not as good as his performance at Olympia Fields in 2003. Furyk's first and only ­major title remains the last time a U.S. Open was resolved in a blowout, the three-stroke margin of victory hardly reflecting the actual distance between himself and everybody else that week. It would become the centerpiece of a monster year: 15 top-10s, fourth on the money list, third on the World Ranking and a win at the Buick Open seven weeks later.

After wrist surgery in 2004, three more big seasons would follow. More may be on the way, but Furyk has made 43 starts since his last victory, the 2007 Canadian Open, his longest winless stretch since 1998. This is no laughing matter, either. "He's been in a funk for a couple of years now," says Mike Furyk, Jim's father and swing coach. "If we knew exactly what was wrong, we'd fix it and there would be no problem."

Since cracking the face on his Srixon driver in late 2006, the search for a comparable replacement is nearing the point where it belongs in the cold-case files. In Washington last summer, Furyk used a different driver every round and finished T-3. Pretty impressive, but hardly amusing.

"He's not a guy who likes to change things, period," his father adds. "I remember one of his baseball coaches asking me why I didn't buy him a new glove, because the old one was so beat up. I told him I did, but Jim didn't want to use it."

Furyk is still golf's ultimate straight man, a guy who lives in the fairway in an era when the value of a home in the short grass never has been lower. After a slow start to 2009, he has begun to make some noise—three top-10s and a T-11 since the Masters. That said, he still hasn't won in almost two years, still can't find a driver he can't live without and still can't improve his position on the World Ranking, which is currently 14th.

When you crack the face on your favorite club and can't crack the top 10 after spending forever and a month inside it, you're not likely to crack a smile. So why is Jim Furyk dressed like a clown? Come on. You can't be serious.

He pulls the black Mercedes into a spot on the right side of the TPC Sawgrass parking lot, behind a row of bushes so the kids don't notice him. Not because he's famous, not because he's one of America's best golfers, but to observe. That's how Jim Furyk got so good, which is why he became a household name, which is why he doesn't want the teenagers on the practice green to know he's there.

Furyk with his 2003 U.S. Open spoils. Photo: J.D. Cuban

"If they see me, their behavior is different," he says. "And if they don't, they're goofing off, hitting a few putts now and then, having fun. The way it should be."

From the insignificant moments in life, Furyk gleans more than most people, which doesn't make him a sage, but a 13-time PGA Tour winner whose victories include several other premium-field events in addition to the '03 U.S. Open. He has played in 11 consecutive Ryder and Presidents Cups, and in that stretch his lone finish outside the top 20 on the money list occurred because of the surgery in '04.

It only seems as if Furyk has been around forever, building a career on qualities every tour pro wants attached to his reputation: competitive toughness, a great sense of preparation, superb course-management skills, an ideal emotional mindset. "Very, very easy to work for," says caddie Mike (Fluff) Cowan. "I've been with him 10 years, and literally, not once has he blamed me for a [bad shot].

"He'll hit it over the green, and I'll tell him it was my fault, that I gave him a bad club," Cowan adds. "He'll say, 'Nah, I swung at it too hard.' When you never have to worry about being wrong, it makes you work harder."