Day 4: It Begins...

I shouldn't be starting this post at 11:37 PM, but really I have no other choice. So much happened today I could hardly keep my devoted readers in the dark, skipping an entire day. If you're unfamiliar with how golf tournaments work (at least the professional ones), they last for four days and always end on Sunday, thus the first day of the tournament is Thursday, i.e. today! Yes, the moment has arrived to see if all the hours logged on the range, all the putts made and missed, and all the autographs signed have paid off. It's put up or shut up time.

That goes for lowly bloggers, too. Switching on my A-game, I forced myself to--brace yourself--actually get up when the alarm went off this morning. Told you I wasn't messin' around. I was out the door by 9:00, no time for breakfast, and at the course by 9:30.

The tournament has really changed before my eyes. Everywhere I look now I see rows and rows of people; people standing, people queuing, people sweating, people putting and pitching...just people people people. And this is only Thursday; I can hardly imagine what Sunday will be like. I hate when writers say, 'there was a buzz in the air' about anything apart from, I dunno, beekeeping, but there was definitely an excitement that wasn't around during the practice rounds; people seemed to walk just a bit quicker, were a bit more antsy, etc.

I, also walking quickly, set out immediately for the fifth hole, where the trusty myLeaderboard told me Tiger was going to be shortly. He had teed off at 8:45, and, if my timing was in any way accurate, I felt he should be getting to the 5th at any moment. I plopped down beside a tree halfway between the tee box and green on the 653 yard par 5, and waited. And waited. And waited. No tiger. Curious, I glanced back at the myLeaderboard, where I discovered my bonehead, captain amateur golf watcher mistake...which some of you may have guessed by now. I discovered, there in my sweaty palm, a shiny little * next to Tiger's name, meaning, of course, he'd teed off on #10. I pulled the dunce cap out of my backpack and walked to the nearest corner.

Sigh, when life gives you lemons, you make...Jose Maria Olazabal! The 1999 Masters champion and his group walked down the fifth fairway shortly after I wiped the last Tiger tear from my eye. Jose is known for his crisp, precise iron shots, and I was lucky enough to catch one (though the picture quality blows) in action.

Olazabal's approach on five. You know what to search for.

Olazabal (pronounced nam-bla) was playing alongside the short-standing and short-hitting Fred Funk, and Aaron Oberholser, who was, at the time, tied atop the leaderboard at 2 under par.

Skiiiirrrr! The blog car comes screeching to a halt! Pictures? Alex you have pictures! Yes, friend, I told you I would not forsake you. This morning I devised a clever way to elude the inspectors at the gate. No I didn't shove my Canon up my ass, but I came close. I looped the camera string around the back belt loop of my shorts and then let the cord and the camera dangle inside my waistline, hitting my legs as I walked, but hidden from the peering eyes of the inspector. "That sounds pretty clever, Alex, it's a shame you don't have a picture of it..."

Alex: 1 Gate Inspector: 0 (p.s. the brown stains: dirt, just dirt)

I'll concede this is a tad ridiculous, but I did it all for the nookie, wait not the nookie, the reader, yeah I did it for you. And trust me you'll thank me. The best part was having to sneak into a port-o-potty to undo the string and free the camera from my groin. This is so absurd. Moving on.

Oh, one more thing, the picture quality on most of the pics from today might leave something to be desired. This is because I knew at any moment I was liable to be spotted by a hole marshal or some sort of official who would throw me out. Thus, most of the pictures were taken by me holding the camera at an odd angle, to avoid drawing the attention of a nearby official.

The following group was a star-studded affair consisting of Carl Pettersson, Tim Herron, and Rod Pampling.

Yes, I went to all the trouble of sneaking the camera in and I took a picture of Tim Herron and Rod Pampling.

I was joking about the star-studded part, those guys are really uninteresting. After them, however, Jim Furyk and Luke Donald headed my way. They were playing with Jonathan Byrd, who had the best approach of the group, sticking his long iron to about 6 feet.

Remember the players are wearing pants. Left to right: Furyk, Donald and Byrd.

I apparently snapped a good number of pictures from this group, here are the rest.

Luke checking his yardage before the shot. It took him awhile to figure out the yards/meters thing.

Once ready, he took a mighty swing.

Jonathan's great shot in the works. Sorry fans, I think this moving ball is just out of frame.

The next group to rumble down the fairway had the ever-popular John Daly. A two-time major championship winner (of the PGA and British Opens), John has been one of golf's most beloved and intriguing characters since he came onto the scene. In 1991, he was the sixth alternate in the field. The tournament notified him Wednesday afternoon that he'd made it into the field, and he drove (he's scared of flying) through the night to Crooked Stick Golf Club in Indiana, and proceeded to captivate the crowd with his booming drives (his motto is 'grip it and rip it'...see why) and no nonsense playing style, en route to winning the championship as the longest of longshots. He followed that up in 1995 by winning the British Open at the home of golf, St. Andrews, in a playoff over Constantino Rocca.

His early success and stardom almost proved too much for Daly, as he spent the better part of the next decade struggling with his game, his family and alcoholism and gambling addictions. In an interview with ESPN last yeah, he claims to have gambled away between $50-$60 million over the course of his career. In 2005, after losing in a playoff of a World Golf Championship event to Tiger Woods, he took his $750,000 second place check and, instead of going home, went to Las Vegas, and blew it ALL on $5,000 slot machines. Through all the turmoil, Daly has remained a fixture on tour, beloved by fans as an everyman's golfer. None of us will ever be as good as Tiger, nor Daly, but Daly, unlike Tiger, seems a hell of a lot more human, always sipping diet coke and smoking a cigarette as he plays.

John 'the lion' Daly shot a 3-under par 67 Thursday

Don't assume that age has changed Daly much, however, Thursday was the first day he was seen on the premises, not coming early to play even one practice round. It must have worked, too, as halfway through his round he was on top of the leaderboard at 3-under par. Graeme Storm later overtook him with a 65, but Daly was by far the story of the first day. Daly, also a media-favorite, had a few good quotes after his round:

"I only had 3 heat strokes out there today."

When asked about how his lack of preparation was in such total contrast to the likes of Tiger Woods, Daly cracked, “I’m in better shape than Tiger.”

When asked to explain his round, he explained, "I have no idea [how I did it]".

Following Big John was Robert Karlsson, there's nothing really special about Robert Karlsson. He had a nice sweater vest though.

Bobby K struttin' his way down 5.

Alright, I told myself, time to be proactive. myLeaderboard said no one of any interest would be coming down 5 for at least another hour, so I stashed the camera in the bag and headed over to hole #2. Tiger, and the groups surrounding Tiger, would be making the turn soon, and if I was lucky I could stake out a good spot for when the hysteria began. I set up shop under a tree as Stewart Cink's group was making their way down the fairway. Cink drove it into the right rough, so I was able to get an up close shot of, his back. Great success!

It is a nice back though, no?

After they moved on, I glanced down at my phone and sent a couple of text messages, which took about two minutes. I was telling people that I thought I'd be seeing Tiger shortly. When I looked up, I was surrounded, I mean absolutely engulfed in khaki shorts, visors, binoculars, collared shirts and inane wish-I-were-a-commentator chit chat ("hmmm Tway should have a good look at the green if the ball settles in the light rough...") by the people Mr. and Mrs. John Q Golf Fan.

I stood on a small child to see back up towards the tee box, where I saw the unmistakable swing of Eldrick Woods catapult a ball high into the air. The man with the towel behind the tee box didn't wave to the right or left, so we assumed it was going straight in the fairway. Well, it didn't. Tiger's ball crashed into the tree I was standing under, and everyone jumped. A few branches fell onto the marshals standing in the rough, which I, though nobody else, thought was hilarious.

Playing with Bob Tway and 2002 PGA Champion Rich Beem (he beat Tiger coming down the stretch we don't like to talk about it), Tiger eventually made his way to his ball, not visible settled down in the rough. His caddy, Steve Williams, got there first. Tiger's trademark tiger headcover, Frank (look it up) was there, and so was a stuffed kiwi headcover on his 3 wood--no doubt in honor of his New Zealander caddy. I'm not going to give you much play-by-play...but Tiger pulled a 7 iron, but was unable to get it to the green.

I warned you the pics wouldn't be that great. Tiger hitting his approach with Stevie and Frank looking on.

From there, he chipped to about six feet, and missed the putt, taking a 5 on the par 4 like a sucker.

Tiger taking a practice putt...

Then carefully lining up his ball...

Then blowing it.

I followed him as far as the next tee box, but it was already super crowded I couldn't get a picture of his full swing...I'll get back on that. It won't be the last time we see Mr. Woods, you can count on that. From the lofted tee box of #3, I could see that Sergio's group was just coming off of the adjacent fifth green, so I darted over to the sixth tee, behind me, to catch a glipse of El Nino. The stylish senor was playing in a power group with Tom Lehman and 2006 U.S. Open champ Geoff Ogilvy.

Tom, as his name suggests, is also something of an everyman's golfer, and draws a crowd no matter who he plays with. Geoff, along with Adam Scott and Greg Norman, is one of the three most popular Australian golfers, especially since winning the Open last year. The 6th hole is a par 3 measuring 200 yards and slightly downhill. All three players landed on the green, Sergio's was the nicest, coming to rest about 12 feet from the cup. He would two-putt, however, and walk away with a par three.

Ogilvy

Lehman

Firepants

He swings like a coupled ocean-atmosphere phenomenon.
(see: wikipedia; search: el nino)

Notice, if you will, the previous four pictures all have one soon-to-be important similarity. If you look closely you'll be able to see where this is going. Look just to the right of Ogilvy in his picture. Then just to the left of Lehman. Look about 3 people over in Sergio's first picture. Then finally take note of the two arms raised in the air behind Sergio's head in the last pic. That, my good reader, is a marshal. He was watching me take pictures, let's see, oh yeah, the whole time. If you expand Sergio's first picture you'll notice he's not looking at Sergio, he's lookin' at this guy (points to self).

Sure enough, I walk not fifteen feet before a marshal comes up and taps me on the shoulder. I don't know anyone in Oklahoma, so it seems unlikely this is a friend. I turn and see, surprisingly, not the marshal from the pictures, but one of his minions. The shortish woman asks, "sir do you have a camera in your pocket," to which I reply, "no, I'm just happy to see you."

I know I know, even I'm not that clever, and you're right, because I wilted like a daisy in the desert, meekly replying, "maayybe..."

"Did you know we don't allow cameras on the course today?"

Thinking: No, lady, I just love to carry my camera dangling from a string inside my pants wherever I go.

Saying: "Oh really? I'm sooo sorry..."

"Well we're gonna have to get someone over here to take it to the Tech Check."

I told her not to bother, that I was just leaving anyway, which was kind of true, I did need some lunch. She made me promise (which I did) before I go that I'd take it to the Tech Check on my way out (which I didn't), and that I won't bring it next time. Yeah, that's gonna happen.

I really did go to lunch, that wasn't a lie. I boarded the shuttle which took me to the wrong parking lot. This wasn't an Alex mistake, though, it was a parking attendant mistake. Whoever it was sent us on the wrong bus, so everyone was p-o'ed by the time they dropped us off a good 3/4 of a mile from our cars. Oh well, we could use the exercise, so I got off without complaint. On the walk to my car I spotted either the Snoopy 1 or Snoopy 2 (it's hard to tell from the ground)...either way MetLife's blimp was circling high overhead.

I spent the next hour and a half finishing up the blog entry from Wednesday in a McAlister's Deli on Lewis St. The people that work there WILL NOT stop offering you refills. It's ridiculous. When they do get you a refill, they fill it with oh 9/10 ice and 1/10 soda. By the end I had taken to drinking my Coke with a spoon...the cup too heavy to safely lift.

Around 3:30 I headed back to the course, checked out another, better working myLeaderboard and noticed that another power grouping had made its way on the course. A trio of back-to-back-to-back PGA Champions, as a matter of fact. 1996 Champion Mark Brooks, 1997 Champion Davis Love III, and 1998 Champion Vijay Singh were paired together for the first two rounds; they might have done that on purpose I'm not sure. They were on the 9th hole, just about to make the turn. I scuttled up the hill to the 9th green, and up onto the grandstand near the 10th tee box to get a better view.

A short par 4 of only 366 yards, most players were hitting metal woods or long irons off the tee on the dogleg hole. I slowly pulled my camera from my pocket (yes I had to sneak it back in like before) and snapped these pictures of Vijay and DL3.

Vijay on 10 tee. See, it was about 4 pm...what a truthful blogger I am.

The sweet swingin' Davis Love III. Tar Heel pride, baby.

With Tiger off the course, Phil a ways a way on hole 3, I decided to trail these fellas for a while. Being late in the day, the gallery was pretty small, so I was likely to get close to the action. I was right about getting close to the action, maybe a little too right, if you ask Vijay.

After the 10th whole, which they all parred, except for Vijay, he made a bogey like a baby. We crowded around the elevated tee box on #11 to watch the players tee off. Davis and Mark teed off; Vijay had to go last because, like I said, he's a baby. I didn't have a very good view, and moved a few feet over to my left, just as Vijay was getting ready to begin his backswing. Bad move. "Come on, buddy, keep still!" Vijay thundered. He was pissed. I haven't been snapped at like that since 4th grade. I could instantly feel the entire gallery's eyes on me.

Vijay's overreaction to my minor indiscretion*
(He was definitely the hottest person of the day)


*Artistic Interpretation

I lifted my eyes to see the enormous Fijian looking right at me...gulp. Evidently he'd seen my movement in his peripheral vision, which is a major golf tournament faux pas. Amateur Hour at the PGA was evidently not quite over. He settled over his ball again, and hit a shot on the par 3 that was too far left and bounded off the green and into the rough. Pansy. Davis, meanwhile, stuck it to 12 feet and drained the birdie putt.

By whole 14 I was pretty pooped, and began to make my way up the 18th fairway, feeling it was time to head home. I saw Eric Axley coming up the fairway, but didn't snap his picture, I'm not sure why. He played okay today, shooting 5 over 75. I, to be fair, had forgotten about him, and I'm sure he was so disheartened that I didn't watch, he just didn't care anymore. I'll take the fall for that one, Eric. I stopped by the range and watched Greg Bisconti hit a few balls. He was all by himself, no caddy or coach. I checked myLeaderboard and saw that he shot a 12 over 82 today. I asked him if he had fired his caddy because of his score, and if so, could I take his place. He laughed and said thanks but no thanks.

If you're curious, the combined score of all the players I photographed today was 33 strokes over par. Hopefully we can improve on that, tomorrow.

Almost 6:00 pm by now, I had to return to the AMEX tent, and hop on the bus (the right one this time) and head home. We had plans back at the house to go out to dinner along the river that night, and I didn't want to be late.

Besides, Vijay was chasing me down the cart path so I kinda had to go.