Wherever Ryder Cup is, wrong place for U.S.

KOHLER, Wis. — Wait a minute on the dateline for the Ryder Cup. You did read Kohler, Wis., but technically it’s not a postmark. And Haven, the place you enter on the road to the tournament, is unincorporated.

So, the Associated Press, official judge of such geographical decisions, says we’re in Sheboygan.

Maybe it’s all a trick to keep the European team from finding its way here, although if history is any yardstick the Euros will arrive and thus whip the good ol’ U.S. of A. as it does often in this international golf competition.

Or, with so many new kids on the roster, players such as Harris English and Tony Finau, the region known as America’s Dairyland will be the site of America’s revival.

True, the U.S. won the Cup the last time it was held in the U.S., 2016 near Minneapolis, but it has lost six of the previous eight, even with team members named Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson.

There are as many theories for the U.S. failures as there are bunkers at Whistling Straits, the course along Lake Michigan where the Cup matches will be played — a course that exists because of a rich man’s wishes.

We’re told Americans can’t play team golf. (You mean they don’t pass the ball around?) Or the Ryder Cup isn’t as important in the U.S. as it is in England, Spain and France and the other nations that make up the Europe team. Or, it isn’t as important as the Super Bowl. Or — and this one has traction — the Euros just outplay the U.S. when it matters.

One thing is definite: Whistling Straits is like no other course.

Herb Kohler, the wealthy individual who knows how to turn on and off the faucets of his plumbing supply company, went to Scotland, played lines courses and decided he would like to have his own.

The fact that linksland was formed by a receding sea thousands of years ago proved no limitation fo Kohler. He owned land along Lake Michigan a bit north of Milwaukee (and south of Green Bay), hired architect Pete Day and had his minions dump 5,000 truckloads of dirt.

A luxury hotel was built as part of a complex that now includes three courses, and for big events — the PGA Championship has been at the Straits three times — tournament big shots stay there.

The media, however, is based 60 miles away in Green Bay, where there is a football team that is known to perform more efficiently than American Ryder Cup teams.

Some caustic types have suggested that the Packers’ quarterback, a fine golfer his ownself, be put in charge of the U.S. Ryder Cuppers, but Steve Stricker, a native of Wisconsin, is the man this time.

“Europe brings a strong team, and they play well and are tough, and we always have tough matches that seem to have gone their way more times than ours lately,” Stricker said candidly.

"But we look to try to change that this week and move on. We are worried about this one, and just trying to win this one.”

As they should be.

Most of the top Euros have been at Whistling Straits. As have most Americans, including Dustin Johnson.

If you recall, Dustin Johnson had a chance to get into a playoff for the 2010 PGA Championship at the Straits, but he walked through a bunker and was penalized.

Johnson thought it was a waste area — a term that some might apply to many recent U.S. Ryder Cup performances.

At the Fortinet, they should offer a toast to Phil

NAPA — Golf and tennis are constructed on reputation, on celebrity. If you don’t have home games, you better have big names.

May we offer a toast, then, to Phil Mickelson, if with something other than the $30,000 bottle of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti he once was privileged to drink.

Phil wasn’t leading the Fortinet Championship after Saturday’s third round — although at 10 under par after a 5-under 67 he’s in a respectable position — but he was keeping himself involved.

No less importantly, keeping us involved.

Remember how in every tournament, people would ask, “Where’s Tiger?” As we know too well, Tiger is recovering from his auto accident and never may play again.

So the sport should be grateful to Phil, who months after taking the PGA Championship at age 50 and becoming the oldest man to win a major, keeps playing — especially in tournaments struggling for recognition.

Which if you saw the fans — or rather lack of them, with nobody along the gallery ropes — would be the Fortinet, previously the Safeway and before that the Fry’s.

The PGA Tour has a problem. It’s the Julian calendar. There are 365 days, and golf can be played on every one of them. That works for many of the pros, but not necessarily for the public.

The week after the 2021 schedule concluded with the Tour Championship, the 2021-22 schedule began. Not only did the calendar year remain unchanged, 2021, so did the month, September.

But there is a sport called football, which dominates television from September through January, leaving golf to survive with tournaments that sometimes go unnoticed, if not unwatched.

But Mickelson always gets noticed, deservedly. Sometimes it’s for the wrong reasons, his pretension, his demands. But usually it’s for his golf: the uninhibited way he plays the game, his achievements (six majors), his misses (six seconds and no wins in the U.S. Open).

“Lefty,” he’s nicknamed because he swings left-handed — even though he’s right-handed. He’s known for the difficult (last week as a gimmick, he hit a flop shot over Steph Curry) and for the miraculous (Friday after his 2-wood broke, he used a driver off the fairway to save par at Silverado’s 18th).

He was on the cover of Golf Digest hitting shots backward when still at Arizona State. He was on top of the world winning a major at 50, something neither Jack Nicklaus nor anyone else could accomplish.

Arrogant? To the extreme. A few years ago, at Torrey Pines at the tournament now known as the Farmers, he ordered his caddy to pull the pin when the ball was 150 yards from the cup.

Competent? He is out there beating people young enough to be his son.

On Saturday, he got rolling on the back nine, making five birdies in a row, 13 through 17. Vintage Phil, an appropriate phrase here in the Napa Valley wine country.

“I finished up well,” Mickelson confirmed. “Had a nice stretch with the putter. I had a chance the first eight holes to get the round going, and I let a few opportunities slide, but I came back with a good, solid round.

“I’m in a position where a good round (Sunday) will do some good, and it’s fun to have a later tee time and to feel some of the nerves and so forth.”

He’s at 206 after 54 holes, four shots behind. “I know I’m going to have to shoot probably 7, 8, 9 under par to have a chance,” Mickelson said, “but either way, it’s fun having that chance.”

Fun for Phil. Fun for all of pro golf.

McNealy shows us how good those guys are on Tour

NAPA — You’ve been there. Some middle-aged guy will toss in 30 points in a pickup game and then say he could play 12th man on an NBA team. Or one of your buddies will make three or four birdies and suggest seriously he could play on Tour.

To all of the above I respond: no chance. You don’t know how remarkable those guys are.

You want to find out? Go play Silverado, where the Fortinet Championship, the first event of the PGA Tour’s 2021-22 schedule, is underway.

Any other week, the course will be available. Just pay the greens fee. Then, in a matter of speaking, you’ll pay your dues.

Compare your score to that of Maverick McNealy in Friday’s second round. He shot an 8-under-par 64. And at one stretch made three straight bogies.

Of course, in another stretch of six holes he had four birdies and an eagle. Overall he played nine holes 10-under-par (8 birdies and the eagle 3 on the ninth hole).

Maverick McNealy is a fantastic golfer, a former world No. 1 amateur while at Stanford. And in four years, he’s never won on Tour, an indication of how accomplished those Tour golfers are, how difficult the Tour is.

That one-time Tour slogan, “These guys are good”? That’s an understatement.

These guys are great. They power the ball 300 yards, sink 25-foot putts or, like the 25-year-old McNealy did on Thursday and Friday, shoot 68-64—132 and still is a mere two shots ahead with two rounds to go.

So be careful what you wish for, wary of your self-belief. Think of batting against Max Scherzer or going one-on-one against Steph Curry. That’s what it’s like on Tour — not that you could even get on Tour.

And some people wonder why Maverick is on Tour. Not that he doesn’t deserve to be — it’s just that he doesn’t need to be.

He has a degree from Stanford. His father, Scott, was one of the creators of Sun Microsystems, which he then sold for a billion dollars or so. Yes, billion with a “b”.

The British tabloid, The Sun, did a mammoth feature: “Meet Maverick McNealy, super-rich golfer and heir to $1.4 billion fortune that you’ve probably never heard of.”

We’ve heard and read about Maverick for a good while now, heard the dad grew up in Detroit, car country, and so named his sons after various vehicles. Ford built the Maverick.

What Maverick the man (he’s now 25) has built is a reputation as a golfer with panache and potential. He may be wealthy, but he knows well how golf can humble anyone from board chairman to peasant.

“The goal every year, I think, is to make East Lake,” McNealy said about the Atlanta location where the end of the season Tour Championship is held. “I think that’s a fantastic benchmark for the elite players in this game. But I also want to win.”

He’s been close, a second at Pebble Beach, but no closer. He understands how hard and challenging golf can be, even when talented (and don’t you dare say rich).  

At the least, McNealy was brilliant Friday at Silverado. He started on the back nine, which meant the eagle 3 came on the closing hole, something to stay with him until the Saturday round.

“It was crazy,” he said of the day. “It was a tale of two nines. I played flawlessly the front nine, hit it where I wanted to, felt like I was always on the wide side putting for a birdie. Made the turn, and it’s funny how things go.

“I’m the guy that has to earn my own confidence. You just don’t wake up and feel confident. I get up early and get to work.”

Which is only part of the reason these guys are good.

Sports off the edge: tennis bathroom breaks, golf harassment

No, it’s not your imagination. The sports world has gone off the edge.

Tennis players are unable either to control their bladder or their manners.

Golf, which didn’t have spectators for a year, may ban some of the ones now allowed.

And a few baseball players are acting like the spoiled rich kids some observers have long accused them of being.

This didn’t happen in the days of wooden racquets and iron men (and women), but sometime in the last few years the most important part of a major tennis tournament became something called the bathroom break.

You know, you’re out there on the main court at Arthur Ashe Stadium, just you and your opponent and 23,000 impatient spectators, when suddenly you need to go.

The problem isn’t an issue of when nature calls. It’s when out of sight, you possibly do the calling, on a cell phone, to your coach in the stands for advice or when you simply stall away — no double entendre implied.

Please don’t (ha-ha) mention the location of the U.S. Open Billie Jean King tennis complex, Flushing Meadows, N.Y.

Maybe, the way accusations flew, it should be Sing-Sing.

After he was beaten Monday night by the young Greek star Stefanos Tsitsipas in a first-round match that lasted nearly five hours, Andy Murray complained about Tsitsipas’ several and lengthy breaks.

The rule is that players are permitted a “reasonable” amount of time, obviously a subjective view.

Commenting for ESPN, Chris Evert, winner of 18 Grand Slam tournaments, had a valid point about the maneuvers that perhaps helped Tsitsipas get some of his points.

“It’s so vague. Another vague rule in tennis. And I think that’s what Andy was complaining about,” said Evert on Tuesday,

"Let me tell you, eight to 10 minutes, that gives the player time to sit with himself, to figure out what he needs to do, to reset if he needs to, to reach into his bag and get a phone call. Or reach into his bag and read a text. It opens the door to a lot of things that maybe aren’t fair in tennis.”  

There are no secrets in golf. And almost no restrictions on spectators, who because of the game’s nature literally can stand next to a player to cheer him. Or harass him.

This supposed feud between Brooks Koepka and Bryson DeChambeau became so worrisome to Steve Stricker, captain of the U.S. Ryder Cup team for which both will play, that a detente was reached.

Among the players, if not the fans.

That was great competition between DeChambeau and Patrick Cantlay, who went six extra holes Sunday in the BMW Championship. DeChambeau had his chances, but Cantlay finally won with a birdie when DeChambeau missed his.

Then, as DeChambeau headed up a hill to the clubhouse, a fan shouted, "Great job, Brooksie!"

DeChambeau made a move toward the fan and angrily shouted, “You know what? Get the f--- out.”

A day later, the PGA Tour announced it might eject fans who taunt the players by acting disrespectfully. “Fans who breach our code of conduct are subject to expulsion from the tournament and loss of their credential or ticket,” said the Tour commissioner, Jay Monahan.

That sort of regulation has long been in effect in baseball, where fans traditionally are loud and nasty. It’s understood by the guys on the diamond they must suffer the slings and arrows of the people in the stands.

This realization finally came to Francisco Lindor and Javier Baez, two members of a New York Mets team that several weeks ago went into the tank and, in fine East Coast fashion, was booed loud and long.

The heartbroken young players responded by offering a thumbs down sign when the Mets finally won a game. Management put a stop to such nonsense.

The players apologized, and everyone lived happily ever after. Didn’t they?

An old nemesis is ready to go after Tiger

So there’s Tiger Woods, in full rehab, learning to walk again with a foot reattached after that accident last March, and along comes his old nemesis, Rachel Uchitel, looking for a little publicity and a lot of money. Or should that be the other way around?

But you knew it would be like that. So did a gentleman named Shakespeare, who long ago told us in quintessential Shakespearian dialogue that sorrow comes not in single spies but in battalions.

For Mr. Woods, there’s not only the physical pain after the vehicle rollover, which experts said very well could have been fatal, but also the renewed mental anguish of being confronted by what he and his attorneys thought would remain hidden forever.

Which, as we have learned, whether the subject is literal royalty or a symbolic version, never is the case. Someone always talks or writes.

If you thought, we — and Tiger — were done with those tales from the early 2000s of Tiger and his lady friends, including Uchitel, so did most of us.


Uchitel signed an NDA, or nondisclosure agreement, something attorneys of the frequently rich and usually famous create to keep details of their clients’ peccadilloes away from prying eyes.

But a few days ago, there was a mammoth story in the New York Times, the publication offering all the news that’s fit to print — as opposed to the New York Post, which offers the juicy stuff — about Ms. Uchitel and Tiger.

The article, by Katherine Rosman, just short of 2.900 words and headlined “This is Rachel Uchitel Representing Herself,” doesn’t have much to do about saving pars but a lot about saving face — and earning a few bucks.

Somehow all that maneuvering and legalese, the decision by Tiger’s lawyers and agent, the doggedly loyal Mark Steinberg, wasn’t worth the paper it isn’t written on, to borrow that wisecrack about an oral agreement.

The timing of all this is interesting, maybe — you should excuse the word — accidental.

Uchitel, to use a golfing analogy, seems like someone in match play, 2 down with 2 to play. Might as well pull the driver out of the bag and go for broke. Which she claims she is, the millions paid to silence her eventually going to taxes or lawyers.

These celebrity cases have a life of their own. Politicians, actors, athletes remain vulnerable — not that the issues aren’t of their own creation — and remain fascinating.

That Woods has suffered the indignities, as well as suffering the crash, has been compared to a Greek tragedy. The hero has fallen.

Rachel Uchitel doesn’t want to pick him up — just pick herself up.

Wrote Katherine Rosman in the Times, “In 2009, days after the dramatic revelation of her affair with the golfer Tiger Woods, then married, Ms. Uchitel signed a nondisclosure agreement more than 30 pages long, prohibiting her from talking about Mr. Woods with anyone. She was represented by the famed Hollywood lawyer Gloria Allred.

“In return for her silence, under pressure to protect a powerful man’s reputation and brand, she got $5 million and a promise of $1 million annually for three years to follow. ‘His lawyers are saying, “We want all your text messages and here’s the price,”‘ she recalled, ‘and you’re like “screw you” and you move into deal-maker mode and all of a sudden, it’s the rest of your life.’

“Now, at 46, Ms. Uchitel — tired of not being able to defend herself against continued insinuations from tabloids and gossip websites — is ready to blow it all up.”

Woods and his legal team have had no response to Uchitel’s tactic. One guesses that their immediate concern is Tiger’s medical situation. What a mess. Greek tragedy indeed.

Rahm: From holding his face to holding the Open trophy

SAN DIEGO — It was less a golf tournament than a tragicomedy in three acts and two locations — part Hollywood, part St. Andrews and overall, very satisfying.

Two weeks ago, Jon Rahm had his face in his hands, stunned after being told he had to withdraw from the Memorial tournament in Ohio, where he had built a six-shot lead, because he tested positive for COVID.

On Sunday afternoon, many miles and smiles to the west, Rahm had his hands on the U.S. Open trophy, the first Spaniard to win the tournament.

While far too many of his skilled colleagues had their games come apart in a blitz of double bogies — or in the case of Byron DeChambeau, a quadruple-bogey — Rahm played the way favorites and winners play.

He closed with birdies at 17 and 18, fist-pumping in his Tiger Woods-red shirt on a Torrey Pines course where he had won a regular Tour tournament in 2017, the Farmers.

On Sunday, Rahm shot a spectacular 4-under-par 67 for a total of 6-under 278. That was one-shot better than Louis Oosthuizen, one of several who held the lead and then lost it on one of the more remarkable days in the 121 years of Open history.

When is the last time you heard of a guy in first on the back nine taking a quadruple-bogey on 13 and sinking to a tie for 26th? That was Byron DeChambeau, who had a 77 and said, “I didn’t really hit it very good and just got unlucky.”

But this tale is about Rahm. With his wife, Kelley, a former javelin thrower at Arizona State where Rahm was on the golf team, and their infant son, he was able to celebrate Father’s Day in great fashion.

“I think I said it (Saturday),” Rahm pointed out. “I'm a big believer in karma, and after what happened a couple weeks ago, I stayed really positive knowing good things were coming. I didn't know what it was going to be, but I knew we were coming to a special place.

“I knew I got a breakthrough win here, and it's a very special place for my family, and the fact that my parents were able to come, I got out of COVID protocol early, I just felt like the stars were aligning, and I knew my best golf was to come.”

But not until the 26-year-old Rahm found a way to get across the country. He was unable to fly after failing the COVID test. But golf guys, especially those with large budgets, are not like the rest of us. Rahm chartered an air ambulance.

The way the final round went, it seemed others needed help, mental if not medical. Collin Morikawa made a run — and double-bogied. Rory McIlroy came within a shot of the lead — and double-bogied. Francesco Molinari had things going — and double-bogied.

Meanwhile Rahm, who was two shots back after 54 holes, picked up two on the front. But after making seven straight pars from 10 he didn’t gain any ground. Then, wham, the birdies at 17 and 18. That will get your attention. It did get Rahm the Open.

“I have a hard time explaining what just happened,” he said, “because I can't even believe I made the last two putts, and I'm the first Spaniard ever to win a U.S. Open.”

Not surprisingly, he dedicated the victory to the late Seve Ballesteros, the Spaniard who won two Masters and two British Opens but never a U.S. Open.

“This was definitely for Seve,” he said. “I know he tried a lot, and usually we think a lot about him at the Masters, but I know he wanted to win this one most of all. I just don't know how to explain it.”

In golf you don’t explain, you play. And in this Open, he played magnificently. Olé.

Rory plays Torrey like the champion he is

SAN DIEGO — The U.S. Open? “The only tournament in the world where you fist pump a bogey.”

Rory McIlroy said it again on Saturday. When he had only one bogey, which he didn’t need to fist-pump.

There he was, playing Torrey Pines like the champion he’s shown us to be, shooting the day’s low round, a 4-under-par 67. There he is, from virtually out of nowhere, into a tie for fourth with Bryson DeChambeau.

One more round in this 121st Open being played on a bluff above the swirling Pacific. One more round of possibility and anxiety. Of balls stuck in the rough and chip shots that drop into the cup.

An eclectic leaderboard. Sharing first at 5-under 208 are Mackenzie Hughes of Canada, Louis Oosthuizen of South Africa and Russell Henley of Georgia. Two back at 210 are DeChambeau of Texas (via California) and McIlroy of Northern Ireland.

Oosthuizen won the 2010 British Open, DeChambeau won the 2020 U.S. Open and McIlroy won a U.S. Open, a British Open and two PGA Championships. The big boys are present.

One of the not-so-big boys, Richard Bland of England, who went 477 events on the Euro Tour before winning a month ago and was the co-leader with Henley after the second round of this Open, shot a 77, 6 over par.

Meaning in 18 holes Friday, McIlroy gained 10 shots on Bland, which was not a surprise given their pedigrees.

He also picked up strokes on many others, which considering the erratic way Rory was playing — he was 49th in the PGA Championship and missed the cut at the Masters and Players — might be considered a surprise.

Then again, he has been No. 1 in the world ranking and is only 32 years old in a sport in which Phil Mickelson captured the PGA a few weeks ago at age 50.

“I thought the golf course played short (Saturday),” McIlroy said about his move into contention. Short or long, it was the way McIlroy played that mattered. He had only one hole over par.

“I stayed patient,” he said, a phrase we’ve heard from Open winners, “(and) was rewarded with a little bit of a fortunate birdie on 10 and then a really fortunate birdie on 12 with a chip-in.”

McIlroy, along with Jordan Spieth (another multiple majors winner) is one of golf’s best conversationalists. He’ll discuss everything and anything including his own failings, a subject players normally avoid like they would a water hazard.

“I was just accepting hitting my approach shots into the middle of the green,” he said about playing it safe. “I got pulled into being overly aggressive out there (Friday, when he shot 73) and the pin positions were a bit trickier, but I hit good drives on 14 and 15 and got bogies.”

McIlroy’s strength always has been off the tee, and you could take that in more than one way. But he said the kikuyu grass rough hasn’t been the problem it is when the Farmers Open tournament is held on Torrey in February. Now, the kikuyu is drier and easier from which to extract a ball.

McIlroy was to start Round 4 at 11:34 am. PDT Saturday. “A weird time,” he said. “Sort of too early to have lunch and then you have a couple of bars on the course, and then I’m starving. So I’ll probably get some food.”

Presumably, he’ll have a better chance than the spectators. Because of COVID, the decision to allow fans at Torrey Pines was not made until May, not enough time to prepare for concessions. On Thursday, the wait to get food was two hours.

It improved on Friday. But Rory is sticking with his routine.

After the day’s best score, who can blame him?

Richard Bland: Rhinos, hats and a share of the U.S. Open lead

SAN DIEGO — He dislikes three-putts and animal cruelty, which probably is enough to make us both appreciate and embrace Richard Bland — who certainly is nothing like his last name.

Bland was 0-for-447 on the European Tour before winning a month ago. And — oh yeah — on Friday, Bland tied Russell Henley for the second-round lead of the 2021 U.S. Open golf tournament at Torrey Pines.

If you haven’t heard of Bland, that’s as much your fault as his, although admittedly neither the name nor the game — as the consultants would say — moves the needle.

But not everyone out there is Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson. Or even Brooks Koepka. Truth be told, in his own persistent way, Bland is more fascinating than Tiger or Phil.

Think they would have stayed at the same grind 20 years, even at times dropping to the secondary Challenge Tour, without ever getting a commercial hat deal, much less a victory?

Asked why he kept at it, Bland, an Englishman, said, “Golf is all I know. When times got tough — I lost my (Euro Tour) card two or three times — I think, ‘What am I going to do, get an office job? I’m not that intelligent.’”

But he is persistent.

“I’ve been someone who can put his head down and work hard,” he said. “I’ve always had the game to compete on the European Tour at the highest level.”

Finally in May, at age 48, he won the British Masters and received congratulations from virtually dozens of other golfers, including Mickelson, who about the same time became at 50 the oldest ever to win a major.

Bland shot 4-under-par 67 Friday at Torrey for a 36-hole score of 137, equaling Henley at five under par.

“I was coming off a couple of good results, a win and a third in Europe,” said Bland about his play. “I was feeling good about my game. I’ve been driving the ball well for five or six weeks now, which is the cornerstone if you’re going to put up a fight for the U.S. Open.”

Bland’s driver head cover carries the label “Birdies for Rhinos,” promoting a charity involving some 20 members of the Euro Tour that donates money to battle rhino poachers in Africa.

“Animals are sort of quite close to my heart,” he said, repeating his mantra, “Two things I can’t stand are three-putting and animal cruelty. I just thought, an animal on my head cover. Why not a rhino?”

Why not a golf hat that advertises Ping or Titleist or Spalding? Bland’s hat says “Wisley,” which is the club outside London that he represents.

“I don’t have that kind of a hat deal,” said Bland. The kind he means would be comparable to the $2 million that Mickelson earns for wearing a hat that says KPMG on the front. After all, TV always shows a player’s head and face.

“I kind of said to the club (Wisley) it would be quite nice if I wore the hat, and they gave sort of like 10 hats to come here with, so yeah, it’s just a reminder of back home.”

If you want one, you’ll either have to stop by Wisley, which is in Surrey, or catch Bland after he finishes a round.

You would figure that Bland, going years without a win in Europe, is not going to get one in the U.S., much less the U.S. Open. Yet, these are strange days in sports.

“When I saw this place on Monday,” Bland said of Torrey Pines, “it kind of set up to my eye. There’s not too many sort of doglegs; It’s all just there straight in front of you, and that’s the kind of course I like.”

 A guy who tries to save animals, who brings 10 hats from his club and can share the lead halfway in the Open — that’s the kind of golfer we like.

Koepka’s as tough as Torrey Pines

SAN DIEGO — Brooks Koepka is the sort of guy you want on your side. Or on the first tee. He’s as tough as the courses he plays, never making an excuse and as likely to get irritated by an interviewer’s question as he is by his own missed putts.

He wanted to be a ballplayer but was limited to golf when, as a 10-year-old, his face was crushed in a car accident and he had to give up rough and tumble sports. If his game changed, his attitude did not.

Somehow, maybe intentionally, maybe accidentally, Brooks and Bryson DeChambeau got involved in a very ungentlemanly feud, the sort you’d never expect in golf but the sort that has developed.

What makes it more interesting is that both have won major championships — and this week, among shots both verbal and literal, are trying to win another, the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines.

The course is a bitch, stretched out more than 7,800 yards on a bluff above the Pacific. The rough, poa annua grass, is gnarly. The wind blows. And for good measure, jets from the Marine air base at nearby Miramar roar above with unnerving consistency.

In other words, give us a golfer who can be as nasty and unrelenting as Torrey Pines. A golfer like Brooks Koepka.

He shot a 2-under-par 71 Thursday in the first round, and if that wasn’t the lead it was close enough. Asked if it were important to get off to a good start, Koepka offered a response that was both repetitive and accurate.

“You can’t win it today,” he said, “but you can definitely lose it. Pretty pleased. Not the best, but I’ll definitely take it.”

Not that he has another choice.

Koepka is 6 feet, 205 pounds. He looks like a linebacker, or a major league catcher — in other words, an athlete. After leaving Florida State, he missed qualifying for the PGA Tour, then he went to Europe, played where conditions are difficult and the living is different. Toughening up, you might say.

When Koepka returned to America after winning in Europe and Britain, he was ready. He won the U.S. Open in 2017 and then again in 2018, becoming the first to repeat since Curtis Strange in 1988-89 (and only the second since Ben Hogan in the 1950s).

He followed that double with another double, victories in the 2018 and 2019 PGA Championship. Some players never win a single major. Koepka won four major majors in two years.

Then there was knee surgery and rehabilitation, which kept him from entering the 2020 Open at Winged Foot (won by DeChambeau). “Didn’t even watch it,” he said.

Now we’re all watching — and listening

“I’ve got a good game plan,” he said of success at the majors. “Focused. I know what I’m doing.”

That would seem an understatement.

“And I don’t try to do anything I can’t. It’s just all about discipline in a U.S. Open. That’s the gist of it.”

What some wonder about is the gist of the apparent disagreement between Koepka and DeChambeau — personality, philosophy, just plain dislike. Brooks looks away.

“As far as perception, I'm not really too concerned,” Koepka said of the public guesses. “I’m worried about what I've got to do and what I'm doing. I'm not concerned about what other people think. If I was concerned about what everybody else thought, I'd have been in a world of pain.”

He means the mental agony, as opposed to the physical, the knee.

“I've got more mobility right now than I ever have,” he said, “so that's a solid thing where I can start building some strength again and just keep the progress going.”

No nonsense, no pretense, good sense.

It’s Phil’s hometown, but it’s been Tiger’s course

SAN DIEGO — He had his renaissance and his record only days ago. So how much more can we expect from Phil Mickelson? Even in his hometown? Even on the course he played as a kid?

There will be no tears shed now for Mickelson’s game. Not that there should have been.

What he accomplished in May, at age 50 taking the PGA Championship, becoming the oldest to win a major, gave him a deserved place in the history of the royal and ancient game.

And yet this is the U.S. Open, America’s golfing championship, the tournament in which Mickelson — through failings of his own, through brilliance by others — has finished second six times but never finished first.

His 51st birthday was Wednesday, the day before the start of the 121st Open. Too old to compete in what presumably will be his last Open. Or is it? He had no chance in the PGA, right?

Five men have won each of the four majors, Gene Sarazen, Ben Hogan, Gary Player, Jack Nicklaus, and Tiger Woods. Mickelson would be a perfect sixth. Especially winning at Torrey, where he once played high school matches.

Then again, in a field that includes Brooks Koepka and Bryson DeChambeau — feuding, fussing and not-yet fighting — and Jon Rahm and Justin Thomas, all younger, let us not drift too far from reality.

If Phil were going to win an Open at Torrey, it would have been in 2008. He was paired with Tiger, who was hurting and would require leg surgery immediately after the event. But Tiger smoked Mickelson, smoked everybody, and so much for what could have been.

In Phil’s town, Torrey remained Tiger’s course.

As has been pointed out, Phil, in fact, was Tiger before Tiger, winning the Tucson Open while still an amateur, being touted as America’s next great player — before, indeed, Tiger became America’s next great player.

Whatever Mickelson honestly thinks of what transpired, he comes across as someone accepting of his fate and status. And of Tiger’s, who although growing up some 45 miles away from Phil, because of the six-year difference in ages, never faced him in the juniors.

“I don’t have any particularly funny stories,” Mickelson said of his first two rounds with Tiger in the ’08 Open. “I remember Tiger bogied — or double-bogied — the first hole, and I think both days and still won the tournament.”

Woods also had numerous victories at Torrey in the Farmers insurance or Buick Open, whatever the name of the event was each February at Torrey, and so the mayor of San Diego is going to put a plaque honoring Woods at the course.

Thinking back to Woods’ over-par starts in that Open, Mickelson said, “I thought that was pretty inspiring the way he didn’t let it affect him. He stayed to his game plan. Stayed focused. Stayed patient picking his spots where he could get a stroke here and there.

“And he ended up winning. That’s impressive.”

So was Mickelson winning the PGA Championship at an age when many people thought he should be shifting full-time to the Champions Tour, the seniors.

Phil has established his own standard.

“At the age of 50, he’s been playing on the PGA Tour for as long or longer than I’ve been alive,’’ said one of the favorites this week, Jon Rahm, who was born in 1994, three years after the first of Mickelson’s 45 PGA Tour wins.

“He still has that enthusiasm and that drive to become better and beat the best,” Rahm said. “I hope that in 25-plus years, I still have the same enthusiasm and the same grit to become better.’’

A fine tribute, especially in a person’s hometown.

Tiger’s Torrey win inspired an amateur named Spieth

SAN DIEGO — One champion, Jordan Spieth, was musing about another, remembering how Tiger Woods won the U.S. Open another time it was played at Torrey Pines, remembering the drama, remembering the inspiration.

Thirteen years ago, in 2008, Spieth was at the University of Texas with a ton of talent and a great many hopes.

Meanwhile, on the bluffs above the Pacific, Woods overcame a broken femur and Rocco Mediate in a thrilling tournament that would take 91 holes to decide. 

Golf courses, like battlefields, are famous for the men and women who won — or lost — on them. Pebble Beach always will be connected to Jack Nicklaus; the Olympic Club forever linked with Arnold Palmer and Billy Casper; and Torrey with Tiger.

“I remember watching the ’08 Open,” said Spieth on Tuesday after a practice round for this ’21 Open, “and dreaming of being out there and competing on this course and (in) this championship. What a phenomenal Open that was.”

Spieth was able to follow his dream. He’s on Tour, has won an Open, a Masters and a British Open. Tiger, of course, was involved in that near-fatal auto accident in February and requires rehabilitation.

That he’s not able even to attend this Open at the place where he won in ’08, the place where he won numerous PGA Tour tournaments, is unfortunate and ironic. One never knows what’s around the next corner.

Asked what he thought of Tiger’s victory here, Spieth thought of the injury that would require surgery only days after his triumph.

“Something you shouldn’t be playing on,” said Spieth, “then he went and won the U.S Open on it — which if you’re having to hack out of this rough, and obviously it’s one of the tougher walks, that’s something else.”

That stretch of three Opens within 800 miles in California — ’08 at Torrey, ‘10 at Pebble (won by Graeme McDowell) and ‘12 at Olympic (won by Webb Simpson) — was historic and unique. Olympic has chosen to host a PGA Championship, meaning the PGA Championship won’t be back, maybe ever.

Spieth was low amateur in the ’12 Open at Olympic. Three years later, as a young pro, he won at Chambers Bay near Seattle, his second major in three months, and some observers thought he might be the new Tiger.

What he is after playing Torrey in its most difficult setup is even more appreciative of Woods’ play here in ’08.

“It’s up and down on the 72nd hole from the rough,” said Spieth of Woods, “and obviously one of the most memorable putts in major championship history.

“I remember where I was watching it, and it was so exciting. Obviously, he was an inspiration for all of us younger generation (now) out here to go and practice a putt like that and to tie or win the U.S. Open.”

Which Spieth would do, if not exactly in the same circumstances.

Spieth spent much of the last three and a half years trying to regain the success that, as one of the mysteries of sport, inexplicably disappeared. Finally at the winter events in the desert, the new Jordan played like the old Jordan, and he won the Valero Texas Open in early April.

His outlook has changed. Particularly with an Open about to begin.

“Winged Foot,” he said of last year’s Open, “it was, oh boy, here we go. And I’m thinking this week I’m in a position where I can stand on the 10th tee on Thursday (he starts on the back nine) and win this golf tournament.”

Just as Spieth, the amateur, watched Tiger Woods do.

Olympic Club again more curse than course

SAN FRANCISCO — The Olympic Club remains more curse than course, a place where leads are squandered and favorites are trampled. It kicked Ben Hogan in one U.S. Open and smacked Arnold Palmer around in another.

And Sunday, in the U.S. Women’s Open, it ruined the hopes and plans of Lexi Thompson — in virtually the same way it did to Arnie in 1966.

Lexi had this Open, with a five-shot lead and nine holes to play, as surely as Arnie, a seven-shot lead and nine to play, had that Open.

But Billy Casper, making putts and making history, caught Palmer and beat him in an 18-hole playoff. Golf has never been the same.

Now, after what candidly must be called her collapse, you wonder if Lexi will be.

“That's what this course can do,” Thompson said of how she made a mess of things, and in the process was unable to give a jolt to ladies golf in America. “Just got the wind wrong on a few shots coming in. But overall, I'd be the first one to tell you that I hit some bad golf shots, and I deserved it, but it's golf.”

Thompson shot a 5-over-par 41 on the back and came in with a 4-over 75. She sunk to third and missed the playoff by a shot.

The winner on the third extra hole was Yuka Saso, beating Nasa Hataoka after both finished with totals of 4-under 280. Saso, from the Philippines, was as sharp at the end as Lexi was not, ending up 4-4-4 (birdie, birdie, par) on 16, 17 and 18, compared with Thompson’s 5-6-5, a total difference of four strokes. Lexi ended at 281.

They say golf is a cruel game, and it definitely was cruel for Thompson. On a cool, sunny day along the coast, Thompson was having a ball. The crowd was alive. The stakes were high — no American had won the Open in five years. She and the women’s game were poised for the breakthrough.

Maybe on another day, on another course.

There are no water hazards and only one fairway bunker on Olympic’s Lake Course, but there is a reputation that taunts. When virtually every conversation about Olympic dwells on what has gone wrong, it’s perhaps difficult to think of what to do right.

And that rough, although trimmed a bit during the week, doesn’t help.

Thompson is 25. She first qualified for an Open when she was 12, at the time the youngest girl ever to do so. She’s won other tournaments, including that one now known as the Inspiration, one of the four ladies’ majors. But this Open, and the way she couldn’t hang on, has to hurt. 

“Yeah, of course it's hard to smile,” she conceded, “but I mean, it was an amazing week. Yeah, I played not so good today with a few of the bogeys coming in on the back nine, but the fans were unbelievable, hearing the chants just gives me a reason to play.”

There’s always a reason. With her success and endorsement deals, Thompson has earned a bundle. A native and resident of Florida, she has an interest in stock car racing. In that sport, as in golf, there are mishaps.

“You know, 17,” she mused about a bogey hole, “I mean, I didn't hit a bad drive. The wind just never got it and then I tried to bounce right, and I've never seen a lie that bad. That's what this course can do. Just got the wind wrong on a few shots coming in.”

An old tale in an Open at Olympic, and not a happy one.

At the Open, Lexi and Megha give boost to American golf

SAN FRANCISCO — A tantalizing nickname, right out of a Hollywood studio: Lexi. We’ve seen and heard it for years, mostly for history — Lexi Thompson played in the U.S. Women’s Open at age 12 — and occasionally in misery, the inability to meet her own expectations.

But there she is again, leading this 2021 Open with only 18 holes to play, maybe destined to be the first American in five years to win the national championship

Thompson, now 25, shot a bogey-free 5-under-par 66 on the Olympic Club’s Lake Course, the low round on Saturday, and with a 54-hole of 6-under 207 moved a shot ahead of Yuka Saso of the Philippines.

And indeed, the charming, talented Megha Ganne, the New Jersey teen, remained very much part of the story, hanging in with a 2-over 73 that left her tied for third with Jeongeun Lee of South Korea at 210.

“It’s all about patience,” said Thompson of her round and her standing. She meant hers, not ours, although either could be accepted. “I just realized I needed to change my mindset.”

A win by Thompson — she tied for second in 2019 — would give the woman’s game a jolt. The American golf community has been waiting for a U.S. female star in the few years since Michelle Lee was a winner and waiting even longer for Thompson

It isn’t a case of being provincial, but of being practical and commercial. In team sports, you root for the uniform. In golf and tennis, you cheer for the personality, or better yet the nationality.

So Thompson, who went sleeveless on the day the sun finally made a cameo appearance along the coast, and Ganne, 17, who is headed for Stanford in another year, are exactly what the American game has lacked: stars with whom even the casual fan could identity.

Alexis Thompson, from a golfing family in Florida, made an impression when in 2007, at age 12, she made the field for the Open, at the time the youngest girl ever to qualify. (Seven years later, the record was surpassed by Lucy Li.)

Thompson’s amateur career was decent enough, and she won 11 tournaments after turning professional including the Kraft Nabisco (now the Inspiration, one of the four LPGA majors). And yet her name seemed to be missing until recently.

“I haven’t really struggled,” she said, “but I haven’t played to my standard.”

The problem was mental, as so frequently the problem is in golf.

“I was just taking it too seriously,” she said about the game. “I just got into a state (thinking), I’m going to hit bad shots.”

So she returned to pro John Denny, who knew how to make a correction. “I’m focusing on the good in life,” she said, “just the blessing of being out here. I mean Covid didn’t help. No fans and all that. Just seeing those little kids here and the chants, it brings me happiness and reason for playing golf again.”

Megha Ganne has expressed similar thoughts. Golfers are part athlete, part actor — those arm pumps from Tiger — and Ganne said she feels like she’s on stage when the crowd responds.

“I’ve always imagined myself engaging with the fans,” Ganne explained after an afternoon of engagement and impressive golf. “Because when I was younger and watching events, I knew I would love it when I see the pros just even look at the crowd and smile.”

A pro called Lexi and an amateur named Megha smiled frequently on Saturday. For good reason. They were winning. As was women’s golf in the U.S.

At the Women’s Open, Megha Ganne grabs the spotlight

SAN FRANCISCO — They say a golf ball doesn’t care how old you are. Nor does it care about your heritage or history. Just put it on the tee and swing away.

A man, who likes golf, and his wife immigrated from India to New Jersey, where their daughters are born. On the promise of treats, he coaxes them to join him at the driving range. The older one develops into a champion.

Maybe not the latest version of the American Dream, but in these so-called challenging times, with minorities under attack, an encouraging tale.

Hari Ganne, Megha Ganne’s father, a tech guy, surely couldn’t have imagined she would become the golfer she is, at 17, still in high school, grabbing headlines and for one day grabbing a share of the lead in the U.S. Women’s Open.

In the second round on Friday, Ganne was overtaken, slipping to a tie for third, two strokes back after an even-par 71.

She remained low amateur and also remained a topic for the news channels. And was enjoying it immensely.

It’s not easy to tromp up and down the hills of the Olympic Club’s Lake Course, not on an all-too-typical early summer day in Northern California, where “June Gloom” was more like “February Freeze” (brrr).

But bad weather had never stopped good golf fans or great golfers.

The crowd was relatively large, the response relatively loud.

“I love it so much,” said Ganne. “I wish every event I had a gallery watching me because it just makes me play better, I think. And I love being in the spotlight, so it's been really fun.”

If she seems a like the Stanford type, well, she’s already committed to the university. Apparently joining Rachel Heck, who as a freshman at Stanford last year won the NCAA tournament and played in the Open.

Aline Krauter, who won the British Amateur, also is at Stanford and played in the Open. The Cardinal keep adding female golfers like Alabama adds football players.

Whether Ganne can add the Open to her resume is questionable, however.

Only one amateur has won the women’s Open, Catherine LaCoste in 1967. Yes, the daughter of the French tennis ace, Henri, “The Crocodile,” whose shirt with the reptile logo is as famous as the man. Second in that Open was Shelley Hamlin, who, fitting well in the narrative, went to Stanford.

For a while, until the fall of 2022, Ganne’s school will be in Holmdel, N.J., where she has a full load of subjects to keep her busy. In fact, she was about to take a semester-ending calculus test that her mother, Sudha, said was creating much more stress than the golf. 

Why not? Golf still is a game. To borrow a phrase from baseball, you play golf, not work golf.

“I was way more calm than (Thursday),” said Ganne about her 33-38 round Friday that began at the 10th hole. “I received a great amount of support after the first round, and my motivation came from that.”

Asked the biggest difference between rounds one and two — other than four shots — Ganne said it was the weather. A perfect response from a visitor to San Francisco, where parkas and knit caps were numerous.

“The course played pretty similar,” Ganne said, “but it was chillier. And there was some fog in the morning, adding some yards.”

What Ganne added was another bit of excitement, as is fitting for someone with growing star quality.

She said she began to feel comfortable in the spotlight during the 2019 U.S. Amateur, where as a 15-year-old she reached the semifinals in match play.

“Yeah,” she said of the attention, “that’s when I really liked it.”

Right now, Ganne is being liked by practically everyone in American golf.

Open course is tough, and so is Mel Reid

SAN FRANCISCO — Mel Reid looked at the course, literally, and knowing the history, virtually, with the same honesty she looked at herself.

Reid knew what was out there and could accept it.

Now a day into the U.S. Women’s Open, Reid tied for the lead with amateur Megha Ganne and can accept that.

On Thursday, in weather that was Marine Layer dreary, Reid, prepared mentally for what she would face, had five birdies and a 4-under-par 71 on the Olympic Club’s Lake Course.

“I didn’t think that score was out there,” said Reid, who very much is out there, in more than one definition.

“I’ve got a lot more scars on my body than most of the girls,” Reid told Golf Monthly of Britain.

And for Gay Pride Week, in the city where the event is historically celebrated, she has a golf hat with a rainbow logo.

The 33-year-old Reid, from the Midlands of England, came out as a lesbian last fall, just before she came to the United States. Her pal and adviser is four-time major champion Brooks Koepka, now a Florida neighbor.

Her game is to be admired. So is her attitude. She showed up Monday and, after practice, said of the same Olympic course that had others fearful, “This is how a U.S. championship should be, really tough. If you shoot even par around here, you’ve got a really good chance of winning the tournament.”

She knew at the last men’s Open at Olympic, in 2012, Webb Simpson won at 1 over.

“I think it’s going to be a great test,” she predicted. The course that got the best of Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer and Tom Watson in men’s Opens always has been.

Maybe no female golfer has been tested as often or in so many ways as Melissa Reid. Nine years ago, Reid’s mother was killed in a car crash en route home from one of Mel’s tournaments in Germany. Unsettled and also uncertain about her sexuality, she went a bit wild, partying and rarely practicing.

But she regained her bearings and her game, although going without a win more than three years she was left off the 2019 European Solheim Cup team, a considerable blow to her confidence and ego.

But with Koepka’s advice and with her own determination, Reid played herself into the spot as England’s best female golfer, a position she didn’t hurt with the first round she’s ever played in a U.S. Open.

“Level par should be winning this thing in my opinion,” she said. “I love how tough it is. These are the kind of golf courses we want to play.”

You love how tough Reid is. She kept her sexuality as secret as possible while playing in Europe, worried that she would lose financial support if it became an issue.

“I protected my sexuality for a long time,” she told the Times of London, “because I thought I had to in order to help my career and to get more sponsors.

“Then I started to wonder why these companies would want to sponsor me and have me represent them if I couldn’t be my authentic self. There is only one of you in the world and you have one life, so be the best version of yourself and be proud of who you are.”

She definitely can be proud of her game.

“I think if you play well,” Reid said, echoing a long-held belief, “you get rewarded. If you don’t, you can get punished very quickly.”

Koepka, who won back-to-back men’s Opens and PGAs, well understands that and has been able to make Reid understand it as well.

“I texted Brooks on Tuesday,” said Reid. “We had a long conversation, then we FaceTimed. He gave me a few things he follows in a major. What he told me was invaluable, and it made me have a little different approach.”

An approach that was very successful.

The ladies take on the course that victimized Ben and Arnie

SAN FRANCISCO — So, it’s another U.S. Open at the Olympic Club, where Arnie and Ben became victims, not winners; where you can see the Golden Gate Bridge from the third tee — but because of the rough you often can’t see the ball after a shot — and where reverse camber fairways make the course almost as zany as the city where it’s located.

But it’s not another U.S. Open starting on Thursday at Olympic, wedged along the Pacific on San Francisco’s western edge. For the first time, it’s the Women’s Open, meaning the best female golfers will get to know the misery that Olympic can inflict.

No water hazards. Only one fairway bunker — on the sixth hole — but trees, cypress and pine by the hundreds, and rough by the foot. 

“Really thick and long,” said Inbee Park, a two-time champion. “You have to hit the fairways on this course. It’s an automatic bogey if you don’t.”

Opens — this is the 76th women’s — are infamous for difficulty. And griping. And, of the five men’s Opens at Olympic, for unexpected champions: in ’55 Jack Fleck, not the favored Ben Hogan; in ‘66 Billy Casper, not the favored Arnold Palmer; in ’87 Scott Simpson, not the favored Tom Watson.

What this means for the ladies we’ll find out soon enough. The oddsmakers — yes, there’s betting on everything, including women’s golf — made Park the favorite, followed closely by Jin Young Ko, Lydia Ko and Sei Young Kim.

Probably the best bet would be on Olympic’s Lake Course, built in the 1920s. literally on one end of the San Andreas Fault. The late Ken Venturi (who won the Open at Congressional) grew up in San Francisco. He said the property where Olympic is located was changing constantly. That wasn’t the cause of reverse camber, where, as at the par-4 fourth, you need to play left while your feet are aimed downhill right.   

Then there is the way the course is prepared, not the way the Women’s Open entrants would prefer. Add the typical June weather — Mark Twain never actually wrote that the coldest winner he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco, but whoever did was accurate — and few are happy.

“I was terrified,” Angela Stanford, who has played in 21 U.S. Women’s Opens, said after her first shots in the opening practice round. Maybe she thought it was an Alfred Hitchcock setting, not a sporting venue.

There is, however, a legitimate fear in having to negotiate an Open course with small, hard greens and not much room to land a tee shot. Strokes can multiply all too quickly.

In only four of the five previous men’s Opens, just four players finished with under-par totals, winners Casper and Simpson, and runners-up Palmer and Watson. Stanford, after playing, said, “That makes sense.”

To John Bodnehamer, the U. S. Golf Association’s director of championships, so does a course that is testing. If the Open is the hardest tournament of the year, well, shouldn’t that be the case for a national championship?

“These players are good!” Bodnehamer told Tod Leonard of Golf Digest. “They’re going to find a way to hit those fairways, they’re going to make putts, and you’re going to see players under par. You’re just gonna!

“I’ll say that now. I don’t know what it will be. But they’re damn good, and we want to showcase that. And it is hard, and when they do excel, and they shoot under par on a hard place, I think it just showcases that side of what they do.”

It’s the other side that worries them. No athlete wants to look bad, and on a course as challenging as Olympic is under tough conditions, the possibility of looking bad is, well, quite good.

Michelle Wie West sympathizes with ‘incredibly brave’ Osaka

SAN FRANCISCO — She knows all about expectations. And pressure.  It’s not exactly accurate to say that Michelle Wie West was an earlier version of Naomi Osaka — after all, their sports are different — but there are similarities.

As surely there are for other young women who find athletic success and fame before they find their bearings.

You know what’s happened the past few days to Osaka, the tennis ingénue, how after winning the first match she refused to attend a required news conference at the French Open. Then, after being fined, she chose to withdraw, eventually explaining at age 23 that she was haunted by depression and anxiety.

Wie West sympathizes. At 31, now she is married — to the son of a basketball legend — as well as a mother and a champion in her own right.

“My lows have been well documented throughout the years,” she said when asked about relating to Osaka’s trouble.

“And there’s a lot of tough times. I thought what Naomi did the past week was incredibly brave. I also understood that part of being an athlete is speaking to the media, because that’s how the tournaments get the media coverage.”

Which on this chilly, damp Tuesday morning is what Wie West was doing, after a practice round for the U.S. Women’s Open at the Olympic Club, where competition starts on Thursday.

If there is a phrase to sum up Wie West, it’s “been there, done that,” because there are few places she hasn’t been, and few things she hasn’t done.

“I'm really proud of athletes taking charge of their mental health and making it a priority. More conversations need to be had about that,” Wie West said.

“From a player’s perspective, I am totally understanding,” she said about Osaka’s difficulty. “I also get anxiety talking to the media right before (a tournament) because I know it’s the same questions every week. You guys are just doing your job, and I really appreciate that. But the last thing you want to do after a bad round is talk to anyone.” 

So, we talk about Wie West, who starting before she was 10 became worthy subject matter, winning events in her native Hawaii, the state amateur, the state public links.

She became one of the boys, smashing prodigious drives and in 2004, at 14, being invited to play against the figurative biggest of those boys, the PGA Tour pros, in the Sony Hawaiian Open. She missed the cut by only a couple of swings.

She herself turned pro — was it at the urging of her father? — before she turned up at Stanford as an undergrad. The joy and freedom she found on campus was gone once more when she returned to the LPGA Tour. And even Michelle taking the 2014 U.S Women’s Open, the ultimate prize, didn’t seem to satisfy the doubters.

It appears that unlike Osaka, Wie West has satisfied herself.

In 2019 she married Jonnie West, who works in the front office for the Golden State Warriors; yes, his father is NBA Hall of Famer Jerry West. They have a daughter, Makenna.

The golf still matters, but as Serena Williams said after becoming a new mother, on court the baby remains foremost in her mind.

Next, perhaps, is protecting the wrists that were injured a few years back. An Open, especially at Olympic, where in 1955 the great Ben Hogan couldn’t extract himself from the deep stuff, would appear to be the worst place.

“It’s tough,” Wie West said of the course, hosting its first women’s Open after having hosted five men’s Opens. “It’s a beast. Couple weeks ago when I played here, the rough wasn’t as long.”

You can trim the grass, unlike the demands on young female athletes.

This time, Phil being Phil was historic

The phrase became as famous as the man who went about becoming infamous. “Phil being Phil,” they said to explain or justify Phil Mickelson’s personal and occasionally contentious style, on a golf course or off.

No one ever doubted Phil could play the game — he was on the cover of Golf Digest when still an amateur — and as we learned over the years, he also could talk the game.

You want an opinion, you want a bit of brilliance, or arrogance, Phil was your guy. He was fearless, driving a car — Jaime Diaz wrote about Mickelson’s hair-raising zip through traffic after a Chargers game in San Diego — or driving a dimpled ball through the trees.

But it was hard not to like Phil, even when he blew the final-hole lead in the 2006 U.S. Open at Winged Foot, throwing caution and the tournament to the wind and calling himself an idiot. Which is why it was so satisfying when Mickelson set a record for a lifetime, his and ours, becoming at 50 the oldest man to win a major, the 2021 PGA Championship at Kiawah Island.

It’s also hard not to connect Mickelson and the man who grew up maybe 45 miles from him in Southern California, Tiger Woods.

Truth tell, Phil was Tiger before Tiger, Mickelson winning a PGA tournament when still at Arizona State. Phil and Ernie Els were supposed to dominate the game. Then, boom, in the 1997 Masters, along came Woods.

Tiger is different, private until the last few years, rarely outspoken in interviews, His popularity strictly was based on the play that made him the best in the world. Phil could debate a journalist or wave at a spectator.

He had a frat boy sense of humor. When in Ireland for the Walker Cup, the amateur event between the United States and United Kingdom, Mickelson hit a ball into the gallery.

Asked after the match about walking with the spectators, he wisecracked, “I thought these Irish girls are supposed to be pretty.”

The Mickelsons are loaded with talent. Phil’s dad was such an expert skier he was considered for the U.S. Olympic Team. Phil was sharp on the slopes until breaking a leg. His sister is a golf pro.

If Phil lacked for humility, that was understandable and most times not a problem. Most times. Then there were times such as the 2018 U.S. Open at Shinnecock Hills, when for some reason or another he held putting practice on the 13th green — during the third round.

He could have been disqualified but — Phil being Phil — was only penalized. Comic relief? An opportunity to take a stand against the U.S. Golf Association? Certainly an attention-grabber.

Mickelson was stricken a decade ago with a psoriatic arthritis, which is incurable. Obviously that hasn’t stopped him from playing and winning. The man is persistent and occasionally ridiculous.

There’s nothing he feels he can’t do, to a point of absurdity.

A few years back, he was 150 yards from the cup on the 18th at Torrey Pines, in the last round of what is now the Farmers Open, and told his caddy to pull the flagstick. No, the shot did not go in.

Phil will attempt almost anything. He chartered a jet daily to fly the roughly 120 miles from north of San Diego to L.A. so he could stay at home and play in the tournament at Riviera.

What he’ll try in the coming days at Torrey, where he’s played forever, is to finally win the U.S. Open, missing from his resume.

At his age and after finishing runner-up six times, the prospect is unlikely. But then again, so was winning the PGA.

Masters success still elusive for Rory; he shoots a 76

Sam Snead won 82 pro golf tournaments, more than Jack Nicklaus, more than Gary Player. More than anyone except Tiger Woods, who also has 82 victories.

But Snead never won the U.S. Open, and that bothered him until his final days.

The four majors, the tournaments we remember, the ones we remember. Or in the case of Snead, choose not to forget. Snead won three of the four, as did Arnold Palmer and Phil Mickelson.

Rory McIlroy also has three. He lacks the Masters, and although Rory is skilled enough, and days from his 32nd birthday young enough, it is legitimate to wonder if that shortcoming can be conquered.

Not only because of what McIlroy shot Thursday in the opening round of the 2021 Masters, a 4-over-par 76 that left him 11 shots behind Justin Rose, whose play at Augusta National of late has been as exciting as McIlroy’s has been discouraging, but because McIlroy seems perplexed by what continues to happen year after year — from heartbreak (that collapse in 2011 when he shot 40 the back nine) to humor (on Thursday he hit his own father in the small gallery with an approach shot to the seventh green).

“Obviously there have been a few rounds where I’ve put myself behind the 8-ball, not being able to get any momentum,” McIlroy said Tuesday when asked to describe his relationship with a course that should fit his game.

“But they all are learning lessons, and you just try to go out next time and do a little better.”

What he did the first day here was par the first four holes, then bogey the next three. You win at Augusta by making birdies, and McIlroy had only two on 8 and 15, both par-5s. Yes, the greens were hard and slick, and the wind was blowing, but you’re talking about a young man who has been No. 1 in the world rankings.

“It was tricky,” said McIlroy. Not so tricky, one must remark, that Rose couldn’t shoot 65, even though he was 2 over par after seven holes.

Surely there’s a zone of comfort — in 2017, Rose tied Sergio Garcia for first and lost in a playoff — or a zone of discomfort. Ten years on, what befell McIlroy remains the stuff of nightmares.

Tied for first with the final nine holes to go, McIlroy yanked his drive from the 10th tee so far left the ball nearly smacked into one of those buildings Augusta calls cabins and took a triple bogey. He followed that with a four-putt double bogey at 12. A final score of 80 dropped him into 15th.

Other majors, the U.S. Open, the PGA, the British, rotate among several courses. The Masters goes nowhere. It’s always at Augusta National, and so are the memories and agonies.

The Masters is back. So is Rory. So are the same questions.

Sort of golf’s version of the film Groundhog Day. Say, Rory, can we talk about where the ball landed at 10?

What McIlroy discussed after his round Thursday was everything from plunking his dad down at the seventh to the instructor with whom he once worked and again is providing assistance, Pete Cowen.

“My goal is to play well,” said McIlroy, “at least give myself a chance. Honestly, I’m quite encouraged the way I hit it on the way in. I think anytime you’re working with things on your swing it’s going to feel different.”

His father? “I knew it was my dad when I was aiming at him,” McIlroy said. “Give him an autographed glove? I don’t know. He needs to go and put some ice on it. Maybe I’ll autograph a bag of frozen peas.”

Tiger Woods ‘lucky to be alive’

The vehicle was wrecked. So, seemingly, was what remains of Tiger Woods’ fabulous career.

A serious accident involving one of the most famous athletes of our time. Four words from a deputy sheriff: “Lucky to be alive.”

A sigh of relief from the sporting world. Really, from the world beyond sports.

Woods was in a hurry. Aren’t we all? The investigation, which will take weeks, should let us know exactly what happened on Tuesday morning, and why.

Until then, we surmise

Woods, not impaired according to Los Angeles County sheriff Alex Villanueva — this was on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, L.A. County, not L.A. city. He zoomed down a hill where almost no one heeds the 45 mph speed limit.

He was driving a 2021 Genesis GV 80 SUV, which was both understandable — Woods had been involved in the Genesis Invitational at Riviera, which ended on Sunday — and fortunate.

Carlos Gonzalez, the deputy who told us Woods was “lucky to be alive,” pointed out not only was Tiger wearing his safety belt but that the Genesis SUV 80 “speaks to the construction of the modern automobile — they’re safer than they’ve ever been.”

But they can’t drive themselves. Yet with Woods as the sole occupant, the SUV, heading north through a residential area, toward a TV shoot, hit a median, ripped into a sign welcoming people to Rolling Hills Estates, tore out a small tree and ended up on its side.

The windshield had to be broken out to extricate Woods, who was taken by ambulance to Harbor-UCLA Medical Center in Torrance and underwent surgery on both legs.

Recovery will take a long time. Tiger’s people are notoriously secret, as is Tiger himself, but we can guess it will be months.

So awful. So ironic. Woods has been unable to play since his fifth back surgery in December. On the CBS telecast of the Genesis, Jim Nantz asked Tiger if in seven weeks he would be competing in the Masters — which as always will be telecast on CBS,

“God, I hope so,” he told Nantz. ”I’ve got to get there first. A lot of it is based on my surgeons and doctors and therapist and making sure I do it correctly. This is the only back I’ve got. I don’t have much more wiggle room left.”

Now that room has been wiggled away. Woods won’t be at the 2021 Masters as a player. We can only hope he might be there as a guest, “a non-competing invitee,” which as a Masters champion he’ll always remain.

Probably no chance.

He has 82 Tour victories, sharing first with Sam Snead. He has 15 major championship victories, three fewer than Jack Nicklaus. After this terrible day, will he ever have another win of any type? And if he doesn’t, will it matter?

“Show me a hero, and I’ll write you a tragedy,” said F. Scott Fitzgerald, a quote with numerous explanations. Woods has had so many heroic moments, and even before this crash enough tragic ones.

Our futures are uncharted. The best of times spin away with frightening rapidity. We’re left gasping as joy becomes sorrow.

Woods has lived in Florida since turning pro in 1997, but his base and his buddies are in southern California. The accident occurred maybe 30 miles from where he grew up and became a star. This was the worst of homecomings.

The CHP and sheriffs set up at the site after the accident, blocking traffic and taking notes, which is normal. One almost could imagine as they filled their notebooks with the details, they instead were golfers filling out scorecards.

The drive Tiger took on Tuesday wasn’t off a tee. He lost control of a car, not the ball. As the deputy pointed out, Woods is lucky to be alive.

A sobering thought, but also a reassuring one.