Text size:

The hole story, tee to green

Shaun Powell

June 13, 2004

Has it really been two years and four days since the U.S. Open last teed off on Long Island? Yes, and before we go any further, please thank Tiger Woods for donating that precise calculation.

As much as we love hosting big golf tournaments around here, nobody counted the days for the U.S. Open's return to the Island more anxiously than Woods. The last major he won was at Bethpage State Park in 2002. By now you're aware Tiger has lost plenty since then: his aura of invincibility, his ability to find the fairway, his lead on the money board, his coach, Butch Harmon.

He's even losing his grip on bachelorhood.

Therefore, the Island is rushing to the aid of a frantic, desperate friend in need. Unlike those other courses that followed Bethpage and were conquered by first-time major winners, Shinnecock Hills will not favor the field. It presents a beautiful yet challenging layout, complete with history, unpredictable winds and a spiky, weedy rough that could be mistaken for Ian Poulter's hair. The meek will miss the cut while the steadiest and surest golfers will swing through Sunday. The winner will walk away with the satisfaction he tamed the best course the Island has to offer.

Shaun Powell Bio | E-mail | Recent columns

But before that happens, let's take some questions about Shinnecock Hills 2004.

What's the difference between Bethpage and Shinnecock Hills?

To the average Joe? That's easy. The Black Course demands serious golfers. Shinnecock Hills demands serious money.

As far as the U.S. Open? Also easy. Bethpage had charm in 2002 because, as a public course, it connected with fans who knew every hole. Some even gave Woods tips on club selection. The crowd at the People's Open was alive. Compare that with Shinnecock Hills, which is private, mysterious and an extension of the hip, happenin' Hamptons, where the famous will jet in from the city this week and lower their sunglasses to see what the fuss is about.

At Bethpage, your only worry was running into a drunken fan. At Shinnecock Hills, Lizzie Grubman might run into you.

What can we expect from the U.S. Open experience?

This could be the best tournament in the world, although the few thousand lucky enough to get Masters badges might disagree.

Anyway, the U.S. Open is usually played on a majestic course, it attracts a fun crowd (or as fun as crowds get in golf) and the event demands the best from the players.

That's the good news. Here's the flip side: The U.S. Open couldn't have picked a more remote and logistically challenged place than Shinnecock Hills. Good luck traveling on Montauk Highway, which is about as wide as Charles Howell III. And be sure to visit that par-5 known as the merchandise tent, where prices are high and lines will be long.

Besides Tiger, who else is looking forward to returning to New York?

Why, Phil Mickelson, of course. He heard louder cheers when he lost at Bethpage than when he sank that putt to win the Masters. Thousands even sang "Happy Birthday" to Mickelson in 2002. At this year's U.S. Open, his birthday is the day before the start of the tournament, yet Mickelson will be warmly welcomed for another reason: He's finally a winner. Many golf observers believe now that Mickelson has his first major championship, a bunch more will follow. Can you imagine Mickelson going from no majors to getting halfway to a Grand Slam? It's yet another reason Tiger wants to win badly.

In terms of crowd favorite, who's the anti-Mickelson?

Let's hope the gallery tells Sergio Garcia that he's No. 1 by using a middle finger. As you recall, the pouty and spoiled Spaniard flipped a "birdie" to a fan at Bethpage who had the good sense to ask Garcia to hurry up and swing. It was also at Bethpage where Garcia showed a serious case of Tiger Envy. Garcia accused tournament officials of kissing up to Woods after a steady rain forced the shuffling of starting times. Two months ago at the Masters, Garcia whined again after shooting a final-round 66 and wondered why the world hasn't anointed him the king of golf.

Earth to Sergio: You think maybe it's because you haven't won a major?

Where's the defending U.S. Open champ?

Jim Furyk had surgery March 22, but not to correct his quirky, municipal-course swing. After winning the 2003 U.S. Open, he played the rest of the year with a bothersome wrist that eventually caused him too much discomfort. So Furyk had an arthroscopic procedure, missed the Masters, probably won't play at Shinnecock but is a maybe for the British and PGA Championship. The wrist should be fine but not even the most skilled surgeon could nip and tuck Furyk's swing to make it look like Bobby Jones'.

Any Long Islanders have a shot?

A better question: Is Long Island even represented? We might as well claim Chris DiMarco, who left the Island for Florida when he was 7. Now that Mickelson no longer holds the title, DiMarco's on the list for Best Player Without a Major. He was locked with Mickelson for the green jacket at the Masters before collapsing in the final round.

Had he won, it would've been a big victory for Long Island. When he faded, he became some guy from Florida.

So what's up with Tiger?

Tiger's problem is he can't be Tiger every year. He's always compared to the force that won seven of 11 majors. Even if he swallows his pride and places a call to Harmon, his swing coach during that run of victories, there's no guarantee Tiger will ever be that Tiger again.

Still, it's best to keep Tiger on radar. You can believe his competitors know he's around.