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Tough place to get going

Shaun Powell

June 17, 2004

The beauty of Shinnecock Hills, the power of the U.S. Open and the fantasy of the unexpected is what seduced them. Jim Furyk and David Duval will walk the golf course today with an arrow sticking out of their hearts. They left their comfortable homes, dropped their troubles behind and rushed here in search of what else? Love.

Furyk wants to hear the starter on the first tee whisper this sweet nothing into his ear: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your defending U.S. Open champion." Duval wants to feel the warmth generated by thousands of golf fans who need a new sympathetic figure to hug, now that Phil Mickelson no longer qualifies.

One will try to overcome a damaged wrist, the other a scrambled head. Both believe the tournament will bless them back to health. This has the makings of a bestselling romance, doesn't it? Two former major champions, recovering from setbacks and overcome by their passion for golf, pulled a surprise by making the 11th-hour decision to join the U.S. Open field. No doubt, there will be plenty of damp and red eyes around the course today, and not because of allergies.

"I just wanted to play," Duval explained.

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"I really wanted to play," Furyk echoed.

They will bring additional buzz to the first day of the tournament. Anticipation will build as they walk from putting green to their first hole. And that's when this remarkable, unfolding story could take a cruel and twisted turn.

Basically, so much could go wrong with a decision that feels so right.

Once you get past the welcome sight of Duval and Furyk at Shinnecock, you wonder if this was the right move. Instead of choosing an easier and quieter place to make a return to golf, they're going for broke. They're running the small risk of re-injury, Furyk to his wrist and Duval to his confidence. Is that worth it when there's a far greater chance of leaving Shinnecock with regret than a trophy? For different reasons, both say yes.

Duval wants desperately to connect with a game that has disconnected from him. He's the golf version of Mariah Carey: once No. 1, now done. His swift fall since winning the British Open in 2001 sent golf historians scurrying to find anyone who suffered the same fate.

Amazing, isn't it, how Duval went from having all the answers on Tour to becoming an answer to a trivia question: Who was the world's top-ranked golfer before Tiger Woods? His lost touch, combined with nagging injuries, resulted in his yearly earnings dropping from nearly $3 million in 2001 to pocket change in 2003.

This year? You've probably made more money from golf than Duval. He plunged into a deep funk, withdrawing from the game before being rescued by a single mother of three. Duval fell in love, married, moved to the mountains and drew strength and inspiration from a family situation that's the polar opposite of his golf game.

"To be honest with you," Duval said, regarding golf, "I haven't missed it." That's probably a half-truth. He certainly doesn't miss falling off the map. But you better believe he misses being a champion. Any athlete with pride would.

That's why I don't fully believe it when Duval says he's here only "just to have fun." There's no way Duval will be thrilled, for example, if he doesn't break 90. That might make him a full-time husband and father for good. That's a possibility, because he chose Shinnecock instead of a tuneup tournament, and because he comes into the opening round with one day's practice. His first shot yesterday, predictably, conked a spectator on the head.

Furyk had surgery in March, hasn't played in six months, and just last week had no plans to test his wrist on the same course in which Woods damaged a wrist back in 1995 as an amateur. Furyk admitted his wrist tends to stiffen at night, said his game isn't the same as last year when he won the U.S. Open, and added, "I realize there's a tough task ahead of me."

Unless he's dead straight on the fairway, Furyk will find the weeds. If he catches the deepest rough, he may have to grab a lesser club and concede an extra shot, or muster up the nerve to whack his way out of trouble. He could hurt his chances of making the cut, or hurt himself. Neither is a great option, and you wonder if Furyk would even be here if he wasn't the defending champ.

Give them this: Duval and Furyk are using Shinnecock Hills for an escape and some much-needed therapy. People will enjoy watching them and will applaud their determination. Good for them.

Let's hope, for their sake, that somewhere on an unforgiving course, they find whatever they're looking for.