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Sunday, June 18, 2006
Self-destruction at Open
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Furman Bisher
Mamaroneck, N.Y. — Seldom, if ever, have so many errant golf shots been struck in the guise of professionalism. Perhaps not since Scottish shepherds first played the game with their herding crooks. Cruel? Maybe, but sorry Tiger Woods couldn’t be here. It would have been less boring, for there would have been somebody to pull for, or against.
This is written here with apology to the United States Golf Association, organizer of the 106th U.S. Open Championship, played across the bedeviling acreage of Winged Foot Golf Club, which has built up quite a reputation for bedevilment over the years. This should not reflect upon the new champion, first Australian who has won the American national championship since David Graham in 1981 at Merion. His name is Geoff Ogilvy, 29 years old, whose registered address is Melbourne, and whose ancestery is purported to be traced all the way back to Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
Ogilvy is not your average off-the-wall flash in the pan. Earlier this year, he won the World Match Play Championship, defeating Davis Love III in the final match. He won previously in the Tucson Chrysler Classic last year, and has finished fifth in the Masters and sixth in the British Open. Nevertheless, he won this major championship because the grounds were littered with casualties of fallen fellow warriors who decorated themselves in shame, bringing to mind the name of the favored Phil Mickelson.
“Lefty” had predicted earlier this week that the winning score would be over par, and indeed it was, as was he, but he was not invited to the winner’s party. He had the lead and looked safely bound for his third major championship in a row — PGA Championship last year and the Masters this year — when he teed his ball to play the 18th hole. You should have seen the expression of horror that creased his face after striking the ball. Mouth agape, “Oh, no!” came forth, if I am not misreading his lips.
The ball struck a merchandise tent and rebounded onto a spectators walkway. His second shot struck a tree, his third nestled in a bunker, his fourth fled across the green into deep rough, and by the time he was through, he had used six strokes to play a par-4 hole. Since his lead had been a single stroke, Ogilvy won the title standing by in the company of his exhilarated wife. His route to the crucial par on the 18th hole had been a delicate one. His approach rolled down a slope off the green, but he then repaired the damage with a chip that came to rest four feet from the pin, and par.
In his own words, Mickelson later said of himself, “I am an idiot.” Who was to dispute him, considering that he had spent more time in the trees than the squirrels? All day long, he hit only two fairways. As the day rumbled along, at one time or another various players had had a taste of the lead, Mickelson, the Irish Padraig Harrington, the Scottish Colin Montgomerie, the lesser known Englishman Kenneth Ferrie, Jim Furyk and Ogilvy. Ferrie, playing alongside Mickelson, was the dark horse of the field, tied with Phil as they began the day. He finished tied for sixth with a handful of others.
I should mention that Ogilvy’s winning score was 285. Par on the exhausting West Course is 280. When Hale Irwin won the Open here in 1974, his score was 7-over par, prompting various pundits to brand that championship “Massacre at Winged Foot.” In contrast, this was more self-destruction.
Montgomerie added a dollop of spice to the event as the close neared. Twice denied a U.S. Open championship, at Oakmont and Congressional, the sometimes pompous Scot birdied the 17th hole and approached the 18th tied for the lead. His approach found thick rough, he pitched out 40 feet across the green, the come-back putt was 10 feet long, and the double bogey took him out.
Not to be overlooked is that David Duval added a round of 71 to his score, finished at 291, in a tie for 16th, giving some signal to his return to form. It was his highest finish in a major event since he won the British Open.
High above at this time, however, where golf is still observed and spoken, there must be some of the old guard gazing on in disbelief. So to say, “Tsk, tsk, what has become of our game.”
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