Posting from The Barclays in The Lodge. I've got a few more photos, but I taxed my cell phone to capacity on the inward nine, and the battery died.
Really tough this afternoon.
BG played brilliantly through #15 -- he was 3-under for the day at the turn -- then, on #16, disaster struck. After a perfect drive, he mishit his approach and found his ball in a truly impossible lie in the rough front-left of the green. After a half dozen or so practice strokes aimed five yards right of the flag, he was able to advance the ball less than fifteen feet. Still in heavy rough but now able to get his club through the ball, he hit the softest cut-lob you can imagine just above the hole, but was unable to sink the putt. Six. Double bogey six. This moved him back to +7 for the tournament and on the cut line (given the 10-shot rule and McDowell in at -3).
At #17, BG hit a 22* hybrid dead at the flag. The club was in the bag this week specifically to get the needed height and ballistic trajectory to hold these brick-hard greens. Still, the shot touched down just feet from the cup but could not hold the green. He watched the ball hop into the far fringe and was visibly frustrated, knowing that was the best he could do. His chip was close, but he couldn't get the putt down.
Now one outside the cut line and needing birdie, he pressed his tee ball on #18. Water left. Still trying to reach the green, his 13* three-wood fell just short into the bunker left. His wedge approach skipped inches from the cup and just into the back fringe. Finally, a brilliant pitch and one-putt bogey for 73, +2 for the day and +9 for the tournament.
Down the road.
The PGA TOUR is unique in the world of sport. Its athletes are independent contractors who, other than their winnings, receive no compensation from the Mother Ship. There are no 'team flights'; no 'team hotels'; and no 'team food' arrangements.
Each player is on his own.
It is a Darwinian existence embraced by those who live it and those who would join its ranks.
The Caravan moves weekly from site-to-site, and its players -- marquis and otherwise -- are cordial to each other (before, during and after the round). Nevertheless, come Thursday, each strives to post his best score and beat his 'best bud's' brains out.
It is "dog eat dog", and you better have dog on your breath.
This was a tough miss.
The prize was there, and then, as when grabbing smoke . . .
Linear Mode
