Day 6: The Long and Winding Road

As I lay awake last night, checking the away messages of my friends on AIM, I came to a cold, sobering realization: I had no idea what day of the week it was. It came to me when I noticed that most of my friends were either "out and about" or "DT" or "drinkin.'" That was the first time I realized it was Friday. I'd been referring to the passage of time in terms of rounds, not days. To me, it was just day five, the second round, and my sixth in Tulsa. For the last 5 days, I had been living in a world where time, as I knew it, ceased to exist; my days are filled with tee shots, par saves, hooks, slices, bump and runs, tap-ins, Tiger, Vijay's fists, the sun, practice ranges, course maps, cameras in my pants, pint-sized reporters, Lefty, The Lion, El Nino, and Brent A. Hedblom.

The nights are filled with...the same shit. I swear to God it's like Groundhog Day, only there's no Punxsutawney Phil and I haven't been ice sculpting with Andie Macdowell.

The last two nights my dreams have been about Tiger Woods. Not, say, me and Tiger playing a round, or, Tiger and I eating dinner, not even Tiger and I time traveling back to 1945 and shoving Harry Truman (anyone?). My dreams are just of me, watching Tiger play golf. In case you hadn't noticed, THAT'S THE SAME THING I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE! If I could both sigh and scream at the same time, I would. The thing is, I go to the tournament, experience it, come home, eat dinner, and then re-experience the whole thing when I write it out in this blog. My head is completely filled with golf and puns 24/7. That's all: golf and puns, golf and puns, golf and puns...

And I couldn't be having a better time.

Seriously, this has been one of the best weeks of my life, and not just because I got to see Tiger in person (sweet as it is). The whole thing has just been one fun-filled ride; from the volunteering to the 106 degree heat, and everything in between. The absolute best part has been----wait, save it, Andy Rooney, get back to the golf, you're beginning to bore yourself.

I left the crib, yo, at roughly 9:45, but it was another hour before I made it to the grounds at Southern Hills. The delay was due to my normal parking lot being absolutely filled to the brim with cars. Signs at all of the entrances announced "Lot full", forcing me to park much, much further away than anyone in my condition (alive) should be forced to.

On the bus, the driver reminded everyone, as we pulled up to the curb, of all the basic entrance policies: no phones, no bottled water (unless it's Aquafina, seriously), no signs, and no cameras. No cameras! I realized, panicked, that in my haste I had forgotten to stash my camera in its usual cubby-hole (that's a weird, not wholly appropriate euphemism) after leaving the car. I had to place my camera in the backpack and take my chances, not willing to drop my pants there on the sidewalk and affix a small device to my beltloop, for fear of being found out be security, arrested by the police, or groped by this guy.

He's a parking attendant, and also today's winner of the highly-coveted Hottest Person of the Day Award!

Luckily, I had packed a number of extra shirts in my backpack--some to change into, some to hopefully get signed--so I stashed the camera within their many cotton folds and hoped for the best. Sure enough, the inspector missed it, and I was home free. I stopped by the myLeaderboard tent and, DAMNIT!, they were all out. "But it's myLeaderboard! My! For me! How could you not have any?!?!" I received a "haha very funny mother f*cker!" from the nice lady and was on my way, forced to find golfing entertainment the ol' fashioned way: asking people I don't know where everyone is.

A creature of habit, my first stop was the fifth hole; the first two days (when I had also began at #5) had been great, so why mess with a good thing. Luke Donald was making his way down the fairway with his playing partner, Bob Tway, who had, you'll recall, played his first two rounds with Tiger Woods. I snapped this picture of Luke settling over his ball...

Donald wearing his Saturday red.

...then turned the lens towards Bob, and began to press down on the button, before I stopped, realized what I was about to do, got up, turned around, and left.

The next group to rumble down the fairway definitely takes the prize for heaviest twosome on the course. Darren Clarke (who you may remember as Fatty from one of the practice days) and Tim Herron, a clean-hitting but not clean-living whale of a golfer. If I had to guess, I'd say the combined weight in this group was somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 megatons.

Clark likes his Clark Bars.

Tim loves his Tim Tams.

Justin Rose came down next, having driven his ball into the left rough, he was standing only a short distance away. Unfortunately I don't have any pics of him up close (from today at least), and even more unfortunately, no pics of his amazing shot. He had to keep it low under a hanging branch and chase it up onto the green. He did just that, and to near perfection, the ball settling just 13 feet from the cup; he drained the putt (I did get this pic of him on the green) for a birdie and was the early contender for shot of the day.

Justin lining up his putt.

My guidebook said that nobody of any import would be coming down the fifth any time soon, much like yesterday, so I headed over to the driving range, to catch some of the players warming up who hadn't yet begun to play. I popped a squat by two women, Kelsey and Wendy, who were nice enough not to narc on me for taking pictures. It was something of a reunion over on the range, as the players I saw should, by now, be familiar to you. Stuart Appleby and Padraig Harrington warmed up side-by-side, talking amiably and laughing as they did.

Appleby (in red with his coach (in blue)) and Harrington (who I think just dropped a lucky charm) bending over.

Ernie Els came to the practice range after working on his chipping and putting on the adjacent green. The Big Easy sauntered over and ended up hitting for a very long time. His tee time was at 1:00 and he remained down at the range until 12:56 before scurrying up the hill to the first tee. His gallery was sure to be enormous, as he had been paired with John Daly, who would draw a crowd even if not paired with another major champion.

Ernie working on his irons. Expand the pic and notice the waist-high green fence in the background.

The familiar face of Geoff Ogilvy was next to hit some balls. He was wearing black today, which is pretty much the dumbest color to wear in 105 degree heat.

Geoff being dumb. To be fair, it is Winter in Australia right now, maybe he forgot.
Expand this picture, too, and look for the same green fence.

The careful observer will notice a man, in red, standing next to a bag. To his right you will see a man, in green, stretching his legs. That man is Tiger Woods. As soon as he walked over to his place on the range, that fence became jam-packed with people, three rows deep. Phil Mickelson was just coming down the fifth fairway, so I got up to go get my first look at Lefty, but of course, I had to stop and snap a few of Tiger, for my reader's sake, of course.

Tiger's side of the range.

Everyone else's side of the range.

I took quite a few pictures of Tiger hitting balls, from lots of different angles. Rather than explain them or apologize for all of their shortcomings, I will simply post them below, and let you draw your own conclusions.

This is pretty much how most people saw him.

Picturesque (can you still call it that if you're talking about a picture?)

His swing, through impact, is very fast. I had a hard time catching up. A prize for whoever can first correctly comment with the name of the guy in black, in the background, with his hands on his hips.

No comment.

Tiger admiring a shot with 1,000 of his closest friends.

I really thought I had a Tiger with ball in flight shot. But I've looked hard, and I think it's just out of frame. Frowny face.

"Hey! That's not Tiger!" I got excited when I saw this guy taking pictures with his iPhone, glad that I wasn't the only one being disobedient. Mission: accomplished.

All in all, this is probably my favorite pic of Tiger's practice.

Alright, they say you can't have too much of a good thing, but I really was trying to track down Mickelson. He was playing his round with Will Mackenzie, who made quite a splash with great finishes in some of the year's first events. His success has tempered, of late, but he was still evidently playing well enough to both qualify for, and then make the cut in, the year's final major. Mackenzie's is a funny story, of which I can remember very few details...but I know he lived in Hawaii for a while, trying to be a professional surfer, and hadn't picked up a golf club for something like 5 years before last year. I can't remember much else, use the internet, I'm sure it's in there somewhere.

For the record, I hate Phil Mickelson, for many reasons I will elucidate to you, later on, if you ask me; but this just isn't the time or the place for it. Knowing, however, that many people do enjoy Mr. Lefty, I tracked him down (by now on hole 7) to snap a picture or two. I must really love my readers.

Phil (in red) putting (and missing) on the 7th green. He settled for par.

Expand this one. Phil in red, Will in the red cap, on 7 green.

Phil teeing off on 8. The picture is a tad over/underexposed...I know nothing about photography. There's probably a ball in this one, but you'll never find it.

I followed them through the 8th green, where Mackenzie hit his approach to about 20 feet, and then drained a very nice birdie putt. He bested Phil by a stroke on Saturday, shooting 74 to Lefty's 75.

Will draining his put on 8. Phil looking on.

The sun was no less aggressive today, and by this time I had started to feel the effects. I limped over to the sixteenth fairway and found a nice shady tree to sit and relax under, a light breeze cooling me off in the shadows. A few groups strolled past, no one really of any note. I did see (well I heard them first) Tim Herron and Darren Clarke again. Tim Herron is a smoker, evidently, which can't be good for a man of his size.

Herron. If you look closely you can see the cigarette in his right hand.

Also, club professional Ryan Benzel (who? it doesn't matter) came through and yielded one of today's only ball-in-flight shots. He wasn't playing well at all, and ended up shooting an 80, dead last of the players who made the cut. That means he does get to play by himself on Sunday, however, which is sort of a dubious honor, but an honor nonetheless.

Benzizzle.

Justin feeling rosy.

Now, let's take a break and enjoy the shade, shall we? I've been feeling a tad under the weather, which happens anytime I go somewhere new. It usually only lasts about a week, which sucks in this case because by the time I feel better, I'll be heading home again. Whatever.

So peaceful.

So feetful.

Not wanting to waste away the entire day in the shade, I headed for the 12th hole, which was pretty close. I arrived in time to see Paul Casey and Padraig Harrington arriving at the green. Casey had missed the green short and left, but chipped up to five feet and made the par save. Good up and down. Padraig two-putted for his par, and they were on their way.

Casey's approach on twelve, which came up short.

Padraig, over his putt, and Casey, wearing pants borrowed from Sergio, on the 12th green.

I camped out, in the sun this time, across the creek (which guards the green) from the putting surface, and snapped some pictures of the next few groups. The biggest name I'd yet to come across (I believe) was Retief Goosen, the 2001 U.S. Open Champion when it was played at this same course in Tulsa. The South African has never made much noise throughout this tournament, making the cut, but never really threatening. He was playing alongside Stuart Appleby, who I'd seen earlier, on the range. Goosen ran into some trouble on 12, hitting his approach into the woods; he chipped out, but into the bunker; he played again out of the sand and hit it to about 10 feet; he then missed that putt and took a 6 on the hole, double bogey.

A goose (red shirt black pants) in the woods, pretty natural.

Goosen standing over his soon to be missed bogey putt; Appleby wondering if he should have brought a book to read.

The big names just kept on coming, so I had no excuse to leave the 12th green, even though the sun was excruciatingly hot, beating down on my unprotected neck. Ernie Els and John Daly, their gallery just as large and boisterous as I'd anticipated, came into view shortly after Appleby and Goosen left the green. Els chased his approach up onto the green, about 20 feet from the hole. Daly's shot flew the green and landed in the back sand trap.

Daly in the trap; Els and the large crowd patiently waiting.

Daly was unable to salvage par from the bunker, and left the green one stroke worse off than he began it.

I checked my guidebook, and discovered that the young Adam Scott would soon be taking to the tee at #12. I decided to try and get a couple of shots of him that weren't just on the putting green. He, like Tiger, had a police escort, but it was more to help ward off lustful single women than would-be assassins or the like. Seriously, his gallery was roughly 85% women. 30 year-old women giggled like schoolgirls when he would walk past, and jogged swiftly after him as he went down the fairway, calling out his name. It was weird. Anyway, here are the Adam pics.

Warming up.

Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for him, this tee shot went wide right, allowing me to take these next two close-ups.

Close-up the first.

Close-up the second.

After about an hour by the 12th green, I went back out in the hot sun, and took a look at my map. I noticed that there was a little something called the "American Express Cardmember's Tent" nearby, so I went to check it out. What a find this place was! Air conditioned, full of TV Screens and food, this was the perfect place to rest a while, before going back out to catch up with Tiger, who was just now making the turn, and would be coming to the 12th shortly.

Heaven on Earth

Inside paradise...they gave you a complimentary beverage and snack, and all you had to do to get in was have an AMEX.

I sat in the A/C until Jim Nantz announced that Tiger had just finished up on 11 and was headed to the 12th tee. Just around the corner, I took a last breath of cool air and headed down to the fairway. Ernie and John were teeing off on 16, so I had to stop wait for them to go. John is a big dude, so it took him a while to rumble down the fairway, so I could proceed.

Ernie, mid-swing.

Ditto for Daly.

Stephen Ames was putting together a tidy round of his own, and would later finish at four-under par, shooting 69 on day three, placing him in the final group with Tiger, come Sunday. Here he is hitting from the fairway on 12, just ahead of Tiger.

Ames taking dead aim.

Tiger and his playing partner, Steve Verplank, an Oklahoma State Cowboy with a great big cheering section of his own, teed off. Tiger found the fairway and then the green, and Steve found the fairway, and then the woods a la Retief Goosen an hour before. And, like Goosen, Verplank took a 6 on the hole for a double, moving him back to 2 under for the championship. Tiger made his birdie put and took his score to 8 under, two under for the day.

Tiger walking down the 12th fairway.

Tiger waiting for Stevie Slowpoke to make his double.

Then thanking the cheering crowd after draining a birdie.

On the tee at the par 5 13th, Tiger hit a monster drive down the fairway. Steve decided he hadn't had enough of the trees and pulled his tee shot way way way left, and into the spectator area, in a hazard, his ball resting against a cart path. He spent a lot of time talking to the rules official, before moving the spectators out of the way on the left, electing to pitch out into the 17th fairway, instead of his own.

Steve deciding what the best way to not be as good as Tiger would be.

The club made a loud PANG when it struck the cart path. It was a good shot, though.

Steve playing the 13th hole from the 17th fairway.

In Verplank's defense, he stuck his third shot neatly on the green, and took two putts for his par. Tiger, meanwhile, was busy missing the green from the middle of the fairway, and eventually made par, himself.

Tiger missing his birdie putt, note the player on the green behind, who is watching Tiger rather than reading his own putt.

I waited in a long line at the water fountain for Tiger and Steve to both made bogey after bad tee shots on the par 3 14th hole, before catching up with them to walk the 15th.

Tiger hitting an approach on 15, Steve in the top right, waiting to make another bogey.

Tiger putting (and missing) his birdie try on 15.

After 15, I called up Wendy, as it was 5:30 and I was supposed to meet her and a friend for dinner that night. I told her I was about to leave, and that I'd meet her at the restaurant. Tiger went on to make three consecutive 4s, parring out and finishing with a 69. Interestingly enough, each of the first 5 players on the leaderboard after Friday's 3rd round had shot 69...don't know what that means but it might mean something.

Sorry, folks, if this wasn't an all that entertaining post, maybe I'll go back and add some funny stuff later, like how the girl who worked at the AMEX tent said I looked like Justin Timberlake (not joking). Yeah, but Tiger's teeing off soon so I gotta run, I really shoulda done this last night.

If you're watching on TV, I'll be wearing a brown T-shirt, and I'll be tall, looking suspicious and holding a camera under my left arm. I'm gonna follow Tiger all day, just in case something really dramatic happens.

That's all for now.