The story in Oakland is the team--not where it might play

OAKLAND—The baseball team is the story. Not the inability of politicians and franchise owners to keep hassling. Not the stubbornness and—yes—stupidity of people who cannot see the benefit of adding the beauty of a ballpark to a port area of wharfs and cranes.

The story of the Oakland A’s is the Oakland A’s, the ball club, the players, the manager, indeed the team that doesn’t care how big the deficit might be or how small the crowd might be.

Or that a half day earlier it was overpowered by the same team it seemed barely able to score against, much less defeat.

These A’s, to borrow from team slogan of the ‘70s, are amazing. And exciting. You could add unpredictable. Except when a team continues pulling rabbits out hats and pushing late-inning runs across the plate—when the A’s stunned the San Diego Padres, 5-4. Wednesday on Matt Olson’s two-run double in the 10th; their major-league-leading ninth walkoff—it is highly predictable.

So much so when a writer asked A’s manager Bob Melvin if this one was Oakland’s best victory of the season, Melvin said only, “It ranks right up there.”

Well, thanks, Bob. Way to seek perspective.

“But we needed this win after (Tuesday) night. (That) was not a particularly good game for us.”  

It was a mismatch, a rout, an 8-1 loss, and even if the second game of the two-game series was not, the Padres, with their big budget and big names, were very much in control  

Jed Lowrie had a second-inning home run that gave the A’s a 1-0, but after that nothing. Just one more hit until the eighth. A return home to the hailed and hated Coliseum and consecutive defeats?

Not with the A’s. The guys in uniform are pleasantly detached from the Howard Terminal nonsense— not quite nonsense; there is more than a germ of importance.

Their game is on the field, no matter where the field might be, Oakland, Portland, Las Vegas, or Timbuctoo. And their efforts are appreciated, in a very Oakland “never mind the attendance, concentrate on the acceptance,” sort of way.

The gate Wednesday,10,648 (a thousand fewer than Tuesday night) was—pick a word; disappointing; disgraceful, unsurprising. It also was, as all crowds in Oakland, loudly enthusiastic.

All Wednesday afternoon we heard the chant, “Let’s go Oakland, and it was a reward for the chanters as much as the players when the A’s came up with two runs in the ninth to tie, 3-3, and then after the Padres went back in front, two more in the 10th to win.  

  It was the A’s 92nd walk-off win since Melvin became manager in 2011, the most in the majors during that span.

“The expectation level is really high for us late in games,” Melvin said. “I think any time we get in a position where we feel like we have a chance to win the game here at home with the last at-bat, we always feel good about it.”

When Olson took a rip and the ball soared in the 10th, he didn’t know how to feel—until the ball hit the fence, Suddenly the entire A’s dugout had jumped out to surround Olson and celebrate.

“Honestly, I thought it was a sac fly,” Olson said. “It carried pretty well for Oakland standards; I think. It kept on going and (Sterling) Marte got off well and made a great read on it.” And scored.

The A’s traded for Marte a week ago to give them the speed and daring on the bases that Had been lacking

“We just couldn’t get the 27th out today,” San Diego manager Jayce Tingler said. “You’ve got to give Oakland credit as well. They put together some tough at-bats there late and were able to find some holes and get the ball in play.”

Now if they could find a way to get a new ballpark, Sorry. Let’s stick to the way the A’s play, not where they might play.

Warriors unable to do what the Lakers did

There was no trade. No deal. For Bradley Beal, or anyone else, who presumably would help the Warriors in the here and now, who would join the last of the aging champions before it is too late to hang on to the glory before it’s gone forever.

The speculation, the indication was the Warriors hoped to do on draft day, Thursday, what was done by their historic rival, the Los Angeles Lakers

The Lakers, realizing time was running out., that LeBron James will be 37 in December, a month into the coming season, were cognizant that as spectacular as he has been--arguably the best since Michael Jordan --the was nearing the end.

So they traded a few people including the wonderfully skilled Kyle Kuzma and a barrelful of this year’s and future years’ draft choices for the brilliant Russell Westbrook--who’s an MVP, as of course is James.

 A week ago, rumors were the Dubs would get high-scoring Bradley Beal from the Wizards, the team from which the Lakers acquired Westbrook.

Two of the Warriors in the supposed transaction, were the 7-foot rookie James Wiseman and the one-time overall No. 1 pick, Andrew Wiggins.

But one team or the other couldn’t agree on the trade—not that one still isn’t possible.

And not that the players picked first round in the draft, the 6-foot-8 Jonathan Kuminga from the G League, at No. 7, and the wingman Moses Moody, from Arkansas, at No. 14 are defective. Both are touted as potential future all-stars.

Unfortunately, for the Warriors if the future isn’t now, it’s around the corner. The remaining core of the title years is 33 (Steph Curry) or 31 (both Draymond Green and Klay Thompson—and Klay is returning from two consecutive awful injuries.

The Lakers, the Show Time team in the Show Biz town, knew after missing the playoffs, and with LeBron and Anthony Davis still visible and viable, you pull out the stops.

Westbrook, who makes passes when he’s not making layups and is an L.A guy, having played at UCLA, is a perfect successor to Magic Johnson and Kobe Bryant—who he watched growing up.  

At the moment the Warriors don’t have a successor to Curry, nor anyone else to fit as Draymond and Klay have done. Maybe the new kids will fill the roles, but by the time they do, the cast wlll have changed

 Kuminga is more optimistic than the doubters, which is to be expected from an 18-year-old ready to take on the big names and to be become one of them.

 “I feel like my game is going to go from the bottom to the top in a couple of months,” Kuminga said. Curry, Green and Thompson “are going to always push me. They’re always going to put me in the right situation, and I feel like no matter wherever we end up, we’re ready to compete in the league and to win a championship.”
  If he doesn’t believe, nobody will, but there’s a huge difference between the NBA and the G League. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a G League.

“I just want to be remembered as that guy who brought a team to a championship, who won a championship,”  Kuminga said. “I want to be a Hall of Famer, so I want to have a great career that everybody is going to be talking about,”

 As they talk about Steph, Klay and Draymond. And Russell Westbrook. 

Giants-Dodgers: All we could have wanted

The games have been all we could want. Not the Olympics, although they’ve had their moments. The Dodgers-Giants games. Plenty of history, very little mystery, and baseball that on some nights seems to last forever — and even that’s not long enough. 

This may not be as good as it gets, yet it’s better than anyone would have imagined. At least Giants fans.

You look at the lineups, for L.A, World Series champion and still the favorite to be champion again, all those big hitters — especially the two Giants destroyers, Max Muncy and Justin Turner

The Giants? Yes, Buster Posey is batting like it’s 2010, not 2021, but where did Tahir Estrada come from? And LaMonte Wade Jr.?

So this isn’t quite the Miracle of Coogan’s Bluff, when in 1951 the New York Giants came from far behind the Brooklyn Dodgers and won on Bobby Thomson’s home run. In its own way, it’s part of history that goes back 131 years. Perhaps we label it the Surprise of Oracle Park. (The Miracle of Oracle has a nice ring, but that would be misleading.)

The only thing we know after L.A.’s rout on Wednesday is that by the time this three-game series closes on Thursday afternoon, the Giants still will be ahead of the Dodgers and everyone else. 

Things seem to be scripted in San Francisco’s favor, putting it mildly. Last week when the teams met in L.A., the Dodgers’ reliable closer, Kenley Jansen, suddenly became unreliable. Dodgers fans booed. The only thing Giants fans boo are the Dodgers.

After that series, the Dodgers played the Rockies. Trailing in the first game, L.A. tied it up and then, with nobody out, loaded the bases. No way the Dodgers could lose that one. But lose they did.

Then the Dodgers headed north. And you start to sense that the gods, if not the odds, were all for the Giants.

Every team has injuries, too many these days. Too many games? Bad luck? Who knows for sure? Hey, the Giants had been without three-quarters of their starting infield, Brandon Belt, Brandon Crawford and Evan Longoria.

Among the missing Dodgers was Cody Bellinger, just the 2019 National League MVP. He’s a first baseman, but Dodger manager Dave Roberts thought Bellinger would be safer in the outfield, away from a possible infield collision.

He was back at first on Tuesday night, and for whatever reason — a lack of familiarity at his old position, possibly — in the top of the eighth flung the ball into the left field box seats trying to get the runner at third base, who scored the winning run in the 2-1 game.

“Yeah, yeah, I think you have to be honest with yourselves,” manager Dave Roberts told the Los Angeles Times, when asked if the Giants are doing “the little things” better than the Dodgers.

“It’s two evenly matched clubs, and if you look at how we’ve played, whether it’s an at-bat here, or an execution on defense, a missed play, a walk, they’ve been better than us. So, on the margin, they’ve been better.”

That would please Giants manager Gabe Kapler and his staff, who from virtually the moment he took over two seasons ago have emphasized fundamentals.

Since they’ve been permitted to return to the ballpark after the easing of Covid-19 restrictions, what the fans have emphasized is a return to the fun they used to have.

As would be expected, the majority of the crowd of 32,878 on Tuesday night was Giants fans, although not by much. You saw Giants jerseys — not the bizarre City Connect uniforms, thank goodness — and Dodgers jerseys.

But at times, you also heard the chant “Beat L.A.”

At Oracle, co-existence doesn’t go as far as a wild Cody Bellinger throw.

Morikawa’s not the new Tiger; he’s the young Collin

He’s not the new Tiger Woods. He’s the young Collin Morikawa, who as Tiger did more than once, won the old British Open. And yes, you are allowed to draw comparisons, if not conclusions.

The victory Sunday at the Open at Royal St. George’s on the Channel may have been the culmination of a nearly flawless week of golf for Morikawa.

 But it was far from the culmination of a budding career, which if it doesn’t make us forget Tiger—who is unforgettable-- seems destined to make us remember Collin.

Roughly a month after he grabbed the PGA Championship at Harding Park in San Francisco, the 24-year-old Morikawa became the youngest player ever—ever—to win two majors.

Tiger did a lot of things; did virtually everything—won 15 majors, won 82 tournaments overall. But he didn’t do that. Nor did Jack Nicklaus. Or Gene Sarazen. Or Ben Hogan or Gary Player, albeit over the years each won all the four majors.

In getting halfway there, Morikawa on Sunday, shot a bogey free 4-under par 66. His four-round total of 265,15-under par was an Open record for St. George’s, where the tournament was played for a 15th time.

Two shots back at 267 was Jordan Spieth, who ruined his chances by finishing bogey-bogey on Saturday. Jon Rahm, winner of the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines in June, and Louis Oosthuizen, who was in front the first three days and closed with a 1-over 71, tied for third at 269.

Tiger grew up in southern California, Orange County, became one-of-kind star by overwhelming amateur golf and then headed north to Stanford.

Collin grew up in southern California, the L.A. suburb of Flintridge; he idolized Tiger but after dominating the game in his area, headed north to Cal, Stanford’s rival.

Woods left school after two years and quickly enough along with a victory, made the cut his first 25 tournaments as a pro, Morikawa didn’t leave school until he had his business degree and made the cut his first 22 tournaments as a pro.

  A couple of golden kids from the Golden State

Morikawa never had been on a linksland course where the Open has been played throughout its centuries-long history, until the Scottish Open a week before the British, but the conditions at St. George’s were pleasant and the bounces kind.

 He changed the way he held his putter, adapting to greens slower than those at majors in the U.S, and almost before he –and we—knew it was holding the winner’s trophy the famed claret jug.

 “You have to embrace it,” said Morikawa, meaning the moment as well as the hardware. “You have to be excited about these opportunities.”

For sure the fans were. Other than the crowds at the Masters—sorry, “patrons” – maybe nobody understands and appreciates the beauty and skills of the golfers than those fans at the Open.

 Because of the pandemic and the postponement of the St. George’s Open from 2020 to 2021, the fans were particularly eager to get involved. And Morikawa, whose PGA victory at Harding took place on empty, silent fairways, was delighted. “I hope this thing is off the table,” he said of Covid-19 restrictions, “that we can play with fans, and I can play on a Sunday.

Which is when a tournament is decided.

 “When you make history” said Morikawa, offering no pretense of humility, “it’s hard to grasp. It’s hard to really take in.”

What’s not hard is to understand that Colin Morikawa’s future in golf is brilliant. He doesn’t have to be Tiger Woods. Nobody can.

He just needs to be Colin Morikawa.

Oosthuizen trying to escape being the ‘Nearly man’

There’s a British label for athletes like Louis Oosthuizen, people who keep coming close, who have their chances but quite make the most of them: “Nearly men.”

Except for Oosthuizen that’s both unfair and inaccurate.

Sure, he has all those runners-up finishes in the major golf tournaments, six total, at least one in each of the four majors.

Yet he does have a win, in the 2010 British Open and with a one-shot lead going into the final round of this year’s, could very well get another.

Oosthuizen, a South African, is a reminder of another from the Southern Hemisphere, who similarly kept struggling.

Greg Norman of Australia soldiered through criticism and doubt before earning his second win at Royal St. George’s, where this year’s Open, the 149th, is about to reach a dramatic—and possibly ironic--conclusion.

Oosthuizen, in the lead and seemingly in control each of the three rounds, shot a one-under 69 Saturday. And his 54-hole score of 198 is 12-under.

Collin Morikawa, the Cal kid and 2020 PGA champion, who shot 68, is a swing back. Three off the pace after he closed bogey-bogey for 69, is Jordan Spieth.

There’s only one real problem coming in second.  It’s not first. And our sports are all about winning as we’re reminded by Five words after the last putt has been plucked from the cup: “The Champion Golfer of the year.”

The 38-year-old Oosthuizen heard those words once. But as the near-misses grow—he was second to Phil Mickelson at the PGA in May; second to Job Rahm at the U.S. Open in June--so does the impatience.

“Finishing second isn’t great,” Oosthuizen conceded, “so I will play my heart out (Sunday) and see if I can lift the claret jug for the second time in my career.”

Golf is different from most sports. You can’t do much about the opponent—there’s no defense for a well-struck 5-iron—all you can do is play better than he does.

“There’s lots of golf left,” he said before the scheduled final 18 holes. “I’m happy with the lead. “He’d be much happier if he still has it when the tournament is complete.

Morikawa never had played a linksland course, on which the Open always has played since its start in the 1800s, until two week ago when he entered the Scottish Open at the Renaissance Club, and that course is only partially a true links.

But if you can play, getting acclimated, learning the subtleties, the unpredictable bounces, may be overrated. The late Tony Lema, who grew up in Oakland and San Leandro, went to the 1964 British and, without preparation, won.

In his very British way of language a Scot asked Lema after his first round, “How did you find the course?” and Lema responded, “I walked out the door from the clubhouse, and there it was.”

While not as flippant, Morikawa can be almost as direct when questioned about what might be going through the mind of a 24-year-old who with a victory would join Tiger Woods as the only golfer to win two majors before his 25thbirthday.

"Yeah,” he said, “that’s an interesting question. “I’ve never been in this position all the previous other times.”

Not to get technical, but since he didn’t win that other major, the delayed PGA at San Francisco’s Harding Park until August 2020, how many previous times had there been.

To me,” he said, avoiding the issue, “to be honest, we build a game plan and . . . and I stick to it.’

Presumably so will Louis Oosthuizen.

Whatever happened to the British Open?

Anyone see the British Open? Not the tournament that has been going on at Royal St. George’s. That’s a facsimile. I mean the genuine Open Championship where the weather is bad and the scores worse, and the guy who ends up with the trophy--the Claret Jug--feels more like a survivor than a winner.

That’s the way it was in 1961 at Royal Birkdale when wooden soft drink boxes were blown around, the press tent was nearly torn from its moorings and Arnold Palmer was the champion.

Or 2015 at St. Andrews when play was suspended one round because of rain—a downpour--and another round because of wind and Louis Oosthuizen came in first.

The current one is a lark. The first day golfers didn’t even need pullovers or sweaters, much less a rain jacket. Friday there was a bit of a breeze but nothing that would obligate officials to post small golfer warnings.

Which is one reason virtually everybody and his putter made the cut of one-over par 141 including Mr. Discontent, Bryson DeChambeau, who contritely apologized to the Cobra firm for ripping their clubs then used them to shoot a one under 69.

Another reason is, well, like the PGA Tour slogan of several years ago, these guys are good. Truth tell, these guys are great.

They drive more than 300 yards. They get out of bunkers with ease. And the way they putt is almost unfair. ”He has 40 feet for the birdie,” the announcer says as if the putt is certain to drop. Which it has been doing.  The first day there were 47 players under par. Round two on Friday there were 52. That the 64-65—129 which put Oosthuizen into the lead was the lowest 36--hole score in British Open history is hardly a shock.

Each major offers a challenge that’s special if not unique. In the Masters it’s the greens. In the U.S. Open it’s the rough. In the British, the Open Championship, played only on links land courses, it’s the weather.

But this year at St. George’s, on the Channel near the White Cliffs of Dover, there hasn’t been any, at least what we consider British Open weather, umbrellas and overcoats.

“Today we got ... I would say lucky sort of the last nine holes,” Oosthuizen said. “It was as good a weather as you can get playing this golf course. All of us took advantage of it. I think in our three-ball, we had a 64 and two 65s, which you don’t really see around a links golf course.”

Unless the sun is out and there’s no wind.

Collin Morikawa, the young man from Cal and the 2020 PGA champion, winning at San Francisco’s Harding Park, is playing in his first Open. After hearing horror tales and watching the tournament on TV as he grew up, Morikawa has been blessed by nature.

One of the earliest starters Friday, Morikawa shot one of the 64s that Oosthuizen mentioned. The other was by Emiliano Grillo. If you didn’t know better—and you do—you’d think they were playing the Par-Three course at Augusta National.

“I wouldn’t be here through these two rounds if I hadn’t played last week at the Scottish Open,” said Morikaw of an event which   was at the Renaissance Club, not a full links course.

This style of golf is different.”

This week, so is the weather at the Open.

DeChambeau’s new war is with his clubs

Bryson DeChambeau is feuding with his golf clubs-- which unlike Brooks Koepka, with whom DeChambeau also has disagreements--don’t talk back.

But the guy with the company that makes those clubs certainly does.

They held the first round of the 149th British Open on Thursday, and as the 148 other times, it is being played on a links course, this one Royal St. George’s at Sandwich on the Channel.

It’s been a wet summer in England, although the weather for the opening round was sunny and clear, and the wild grass, fescue, grew so long and thick officials even decided to widen the fairways.

But they weren’t wide enough for DeChambeau, who seems to have developed into a one-man controversy in a sport famously historic for sportsmanship and fair play.

DeChambeau shot a one-over par 71 which, although that doesn’t seem too bad, left him seven shots behind the 64 of Louis Oosthuizen, tied for 74th place and blaming the driver, the one with grips on the shaft and not the driver unable to come to grips with his deficiencies.

“I’m living on the razor’s edge,” said DeChambeau, perhaps not aware that was the title of a 1944 novel by W. Somerset Maugham about a pilot traumatized by experiences in World War I.

DeChambeau had four birdies and five bogies, traumatizing enough for any pro in a major championship, especially one who has become famous and infamous for bulking up to resemble “The Incredible Hulk,” and pounding balls enormous distances.

Sometimes those balls go in the proper direction, as they did at Winged Foot when DeChambeau won the U.S. Open in 2020. Sometimes they don’t, as was the problem Day One at Royal St. George’s. Apparently, the course is not long enough, or do the woods and irons he employs have him baffled?

“It’s quite finicky for me,” said DeChambeau, who at age 27 sounds quite finicky himself, “because it’s a golf course that’s pretty short, and so when I hit a driver, and it doesn’t go in the fairway, it’s tough for me to get out onto the green and control it.’

So, hit in the fairway however you are able.

As Jack Nicklaus once told me, “If you can’t get on the fairway with a driver, use a 3-wood. If you can’t get on with a 3-wood use an iron. Of course, you can’t play when you keep going in the rough.”

DeChambeau is in full agreement.

“If I can hit it down the middle of the fairway, that’s great,” he said when asked if he still could contend in a tournament where he had been one of the betting favorites.

“But with the driver right now, the driver sucks. It’s not a good face for me (the face of the club although it appears the golfer might be attempting to save face; remember, a carpenter doesn’t blame his tools).

“And we’re still trying to make it good on miss-hits.”

The "we" to which he refers is Cobra, the firm which manufactures and fine-tunes the clubs to his specifications. As you might imagine the people at Cobra were not pleased with the report from someone getting paid big dollars to hit the club.

Digressing, it wasn’t all that long ago Phil Mickelson, who plays Callaway, pulled out a club from the golf bag of Tiger Woods, who had Nike clubs and said something like, “I can’t believe Tiger plays so well with these lousy clubs.”

DeChambeau hardly needs more enemies. He split with his caddy a couple weeks ago, and there’s that sniping between him and Koepka.

Ben Schomin is the tour operations manager for Cobra and one of the club designers. “He’s never been happy,” Schomin told Golfweek about DeChambeau. “Everybody’s bending over backward trying to get everything in the pipeline. It’s just really painful when he says something that stupid.”

Perfection comes at a price.

The Open at St. George’s: You can see France but not a way to par

When the Open Championship was held at Royal St. George’s in 1949 a golfer named Harry Bradshaw found his ball inside a broken beer bottle on the fifth fairway. He tried to play it. He could have had a free drop.

When the Open was held at St. George’s in 2011, a golfer named Tiger Woods couldn’t find his ball off the first fairway after the opening shot of the tournament. Woods only wished he could have had a free drop instead of a lost-ball penalty.

The Open starting Thursday returns to St. George’s where you can see France some 20 miles across the Channel but when in competition, you’re thrashing around in the rough you can’t see a way to make par.

And, no, Bradshaw didn’t win in ’49, It was the legendary Bobby Locke. Nor did Tiger win in ’11, It was the not-so-legendary Ben Curtis.                        

The last Open at the course named for the patron saint of England was in 2011 and won by Darren Clarke, whose celebration after years of trying included his obligatory cigars and some optional pints.

Clarke, a Northern Irishman, who’s as popular as the game he still plays on the Champions (seniors) Tour.

Phil Mickelson was second that ‘11 Open, and now 10 years later, in May, having taken the PGA at 50 to become the oldest man ever to win a major, he’s still a factor.

The favorites, however, are the usual suspects; Jon Rahm, who won the U, S. Open, at Torrey Pines in June; the feuding friends, Bruce Koepka, and Bryson DeChambeau; Rory McIlroy, despite his unsteady driving; and Justin Thomas.

But so often at the Open—this is the 149th--the story’s the course, scraped and molded from the linksland of the British Isles,

St. George’s is a place where off the fourth tee there’s a bunker big enough to hide the whole lot of the Queen’s fusiliers and where canines and human females used to be treated with contempt.

It’s nestled among dunes on which Caesar’s army set foot but Hitler’s army never was able.

Ian Fleming, a member, picked up many of his story ideas behind   the bar. He carried a handicap of 007—well 7.

When the wind blows (when doesn’t it blow?) St. George’s might be the toughest course in the Open rotation. Unquestionably it is the southernmost.

In the 1981 Open (won by the Texan, Bill Rogers) Jack Nicklaus shot an 83 in the second round and still made the cut. In the ’85 Open there (won by Sandy Lyle) Peter Jacobsen tackled a streaker on the 18th green. In 1993, Greg Norman played so well the final round he proclaimed, “I’m not one to brag, but I was in awe of myself.”

There are several courses squeezed in the area known for decades as Cinque Ports, not far from the White Cliffs of Dover, One, Prince’s, is alongside St. George’s, only a small stone wall separating the two.

The third round of the ’93 Open, the late Payne Stewart saw several sportswriters he knew, playing Prince’s, stopped next to the wall and asked, “Anybody see my ball, a Pink Lady?”

He wasn’t serious.

But Bernard Darwin, the London Times golf writer, in the 1920s and ‘30s, was serious when he wrote about St. George’s, “The sun shines on the waters of Pegwell Bay and lighting up the white cliffs in the distance; this is nearly my idea of heaven as it is to be attained on any earthly links.”

Others may have disagreed.  Once, outside St. George’s there was a sign, “No dogs, no women.” Ladies now are able to play although only by themselves.

Wonder what James Bond would say?

Unbelievable: at All-Star break, Giants have best record in baseball

SAN FRANCISCO — Nobody in baseball would have believed this. Maybe nobody in sports. The San Francisco Giants have the best record in the majors at the All-Star break.

Which is now. Which is crazy wonderful.

Better than the Dodgers. Better than the Padres. Better than the Astros and Mets and Yankees.

Better than anybody in the bigs.

And they’ve done it in part without their All-Star catcher, Buster Posey, and without Evan Longoria and Brandon Belt. They’ve been on the injured list, and while every team has injuries, those three are the infield point men, at catcher, third base and first base.

What the Giants do have is the other Brandon, shortstop Brandon Crawford, who at 34, two seasons after he seemed finished, is batting .284 and on the All-Star team, and a roster full of guys who not only think baseball is fun but make it so by the way they play.

The Giants closed the first half of this enticing 2021 season by beating the once proud Washington Nationals, 3-1, on a Sunday afternoon at Oracle Park, where mid-summer had an autumn feel, a temperature of 60 degrees at first pitch and a cool wind until the last out.

A bit of the Fall Classic? Not so fast. The way the Giants unexpectedly crashed into prominence — not that they’d ever get the attention on ESPN given the Yankees, Dodgers or Padres — is the same way they could come crashing down.

Still, they swept three from the Nats.  

With an exception or three, the bulk of the Giants’ roster was hardly in demand when it came to rebuilding a team. No Trevor Bauers (exhale). No Giancarlo Stantons.

Just a lot of people who showed they could either play the game, like pitcher Kevin Gausman, the starter and winner Sunday (he’s now 9-3 and an All-Star for the game at Denver, his home), or had the potential to play it, such as Darin Ruf.

The big man on Sunday was Gausman. Pitching always counts. Hard to lose when the opponent gets only a single run. Just as in football. Keep the other team from scoring, and you’ve got a great chance.

The big man on offense was Kurt Casali, picked up earlier in the year and, after getting through injuries of his own, the one who picked up the Giants with a three-run home run in the second.

Who knows how long this magic lasts, but team president Farhan Zaidi keeps putting in the right pieces, and his willing compatriot, manager Gabe Kapler, keeps making the right moves.

Last year, Zaidi reminded, the defense was lacking. Not only were there errors of commission, grounders misplayed, fly balls dropped, but errors of omission — not covering a base, failing to throw to the correct infielder.

Those are unacceptable, particularly for a team built around pitching.

Kapler, as every manager, has remained skeptical as needed and enthusiastic as required. He is honest without being pretentious.

“That we’ve been able to do it without our All-Star catcher,” Kapler said of the Giants working their way to a record of 57-32, “is an example of people stepping up to help each other. Players came up from the minor leagues.”

From his days as an executive with the Dodgers, the monster he must now work to surpass, Zaidi has prized both versatility and patience. He likes players who can handle more than one position and who know when to swing the bat.

Kapler reportedly told Casali that the Giants from April until now played one of the better half-seasons he’d ever been associated with as a player or manager.

“I didn’t think much about it,” said Casali, around the game long enough to know how rapidly things can turn, “but it was cool.”

In the season of ’21, so are the Giants.

For Federer and his fans, disappointment and doubt

When the Open Championship was held at Royal St. George’s in 1949 a golfer named Harry Bradshaw found his ball inside a broken beer bottle on the fifth fairway. He tried to play it. He could have had a free drop,

When the Open was held at St. George’s in 2011, a golfer named Tiger Woods couldn’t find his ball off the first fairway after the opening shot of the tournament. Woods only wished he could have had a free drop instead of a lost-ball penalty.

The Open starting Thursday returns to St. George’s where you can see France some 20 miles across the Channel but when in competition, you’re thrashing around in the rough you can’t see a way to make par.

And, no, Bradshaw didn’t win in ’49, It was the legendary Bobby Locke. Nor did Tiger win in ’11, It was the not-so-legendary Ben Curtis.

The last Open at the course named for the patron saint of England was in 2011 and won by Darren Clarke, whose celebration after years of trying included his obligatory cigars and some optional pints.

Clarke, a Northern Irishman, who’s as popular as the game he still plays on the Champions (seniors) Tour.

Phil Mickelson was second that ‘11 Open, and now 10 years later, in May, having taken the PGA at 50 to become the oldest man ever to win a major, he’s still a factor.

The favorites, however, are the usual suspects; Jon Rahm, who won the U, S. Open, at Torrey Pines in June; the feuding friends, Bruce Koepka, and Bryson DeChambeau; Rory McIlroy, despite his unsteady driving; and Justin Thomas.

But so often at the Open—this is the 149th--the story’s the course, scraped and molded from the linksland of the British Isles,

St. George’s is a place where off the fourth tee there’s a bunker big enough to hide the whole lot of the Queen’s fusiliers and where canines and human females used to be treated with contempt.

It’s nestled among dunes on which Caesar’s army set foot but Hitler’s army never was able.

Ian Fleming, a member, picked up many of his story ideas behind the bar. He carried a handicap of 007—well 7.

When the wind blows (when doesn’t it blow?) St. George’s might be the toughest course in the Open rotation. Unquestionably it is the southernmost.

In the 1981 Open (won by the Texan, Bill Rogers) Jack Nicklaus shot an 83 in the second round and still made the cut. In the ’85 Open there (won by Sandy Lyle) Peter Jacobsen tackled a streaker on the 18th green. In1993 Greg Norman played so well the final round he proclaimed, “I’m not one to brag, but I was in awe of myself.”

There are several courses squeezed in the area known for decades as Cinque Ports, not far from the White Cliffs of Dover, One, Prince’s, is alongside St. George’s, only a small stone wall separating the two.

The third round of the ’93 Open, the late Payne Stewart saw several sportswriters he knew, playing Prince’s, stopped next to the wall and asked, “Anybody see my ball, a Pink Lady?”

He wasn’t serious.

But Bernard Darwin, the London Times golf writer, in the 1920s and ‘30s, was serious when he wrote about St. George’s, “The sun shines on the waters of Pegwell Bay and lighting up the white cliffs in the distance; this is nearly my idea of heaven as it is to be attained on any earthly links.”

Others may have disagreed. Once, outside St. George’s there was a sign, “No dogs, no women.” Ladies now are able to play although only by themselves.

Wonder what James Bond would say?In the old cartoons, Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, the message scrolled on the screen. “The end,” it said, and so it was time to leave.

If only it could be that clear in sports.

If only Roger Federer and his fans wouldn’t have to endure the disappointment and doubt.

If only we wouldn’t be wondering whether one of the great careers in tennis was headed to a finish.

Which it certainly seemed to be Wednesday, when Federer was defeated — in truth, overwhelmed — 6-3, 7-6 (4), 6-0, by Hubert Hurkacz of Poland, who except to tennis purists probably is as obscure as Federer is famous.

Or was obscure until his Wimbledon quarterfinal rout of Federer.

What a sad, jarring few days for two of the game’s stars. Venus Williams, age 41, couldn’t win a game in the final set she played. Federer, age 39 (a week away from 40), also couldn’t win a game the final set he played.

It’s not supposed to be that way. Or is it? The world, we were told poetically by T.S. Eliot, ends with a whimper. An appropriate description of Federer’s play the last game or the last set.

Chris Clarey wrote in the New York Times that Federer was “shanking forehands and misjudging volleys.” Roger Federer, eight-time Wimbledon singles champion, so graceful and mobile, shanking and misjudging?

This could not be. But it was.

Like Willie Mays in the season he was with the Mets, dropping flies and striking out, Federer was a victim of time as much as he was of the opposing players.

He’s not going to retire. Tennis is his life as well as his profession. “The goal is to play, of course,” he said.

But even he was uncertain about a return to Wimbledon in 2022. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really know. I’ve got to regroup.”

What he does know, what we all know, is that age is the ultimate winner in every sport.

Our games are for the young, as Federer was when at 19 he knocked off Pete Sampras at Wimbledon in 2001. As is Hurkacz at 24 when he knocked off Federer. 

The days keep moving, the forehands keep flying. Don’t look over your shoulder. Everyone may be gaining on you.

Federer had a decent tournament, all things considered. Until the third game against Hurkacz.

Roger underwent a knee operation a year ago and weeks of rehabilitation. That he even was able to advance to the quarters this Wimbledon could be considered a victory. 

Unfortunately, there was that third game, Hurkacz pitching the shutout as it were, only the third incurred by Federer in 429 Grand Slam matches.

“The last few games,” Federer admitted in his media conference, “obviously you can feel that you’re not coming back from it.

“I’m not used to that kind of situation, obviously, very much, especially not here.”  

Yet assuming he returns to Wimbledon — and the guess is he will, if only to revise the last impression; who wants to remember Roger getting skunked? — he may have to get used to it.

The older you get, the younger — and stronger — are the people on the other side of the net.

Of course, young or old, how many tennis players were as brilliant or elegant as Federer, the 20 Wimbledon titles, the 103 ATP singles wins?

Although he is Swiss, Federer came to be idolized by the British fans, probably because of his classy style as well as his success at their tournament.

“I’m actually very happy I made it as far as I did here,” he said diplomatically, “and I actually was able to play at the level that I did after everything I went through.”

What he went through in that final game was awful. For him and his many fans.

For the A’s, the story always is the ballpark they lack

So, how’s that new A’s ballpark coming along? You know, at Howard Terminal. Or is Howard Cosell?  It’s supposed to be ready by 2029. In Las Vegas, if not in Oakland.

They used to call San Francisco “the city that knows how,” but that was long ago before the homeless were camping out in the parks. Oakland might be described as the city that knows how to lose sports franchises. No, that’s not quite accurate.

The Warriors left because the team owner wanted the prestige of a San Francisco location — yes, even with dirty streets it has charm. The Raiders left because they wanted a town with money. And the A’s will be leaving because, as you’ve noted, from the bickering and pettiness, there’s no way a new stadium ever will be constructed in Oakland.

I feel sorry for the A’s. The baseball they play, and through the season it has ranked among the game’s best, invariably becomes less important than the other factors — from the time of Charles Finley to this very moment.

Instead of dwelling on Matt Olson, who will be in the All-Star Game home run contest, or Sean Manaea or Chris Bassitt, we’re always writing about the small payroll and the large financial problems. About the disappointing attendance and the generally clueless way the city treats the A’s and their fans.

We know the reality. As in the rest of the Bay Area, citizens who adhere to the NIMBY philosophy — as re-emphasized when, goodness gracious, the A’s suggested a stadium on the property of Merritt College, you’d have thought the team wanted to dam up the Oakland Estuary.

So, then the move was the harbor, the docks, Howard Terminal, functional stadium that seemed to fit in perfectly. Sorry, ship owners contend that stadium lights will affect the fish — just joking, I think.

Of late, an ad posted on the web page of the Oakland Times says the ballpark will cost Oakland taxpayers millions.

As you know, it all comes down to money. The A’s have paddled forward through the years with rosters of players who kept winning until those players became unaffordable — at least for the A‘s, if not other teams.

Billy Beane, the A’s GM for years, never whined about the payroll differential, although after one playoff loss some 20 years ago he was heard to sigh, “Another $50,000, we win that game.”

It’s a business, baseball, and players deserve what they are able to earn. As the A’s were outbid by other teams, Oakland management would tell us as soon as the new ballpark was built it could compete for its stars.

But the beat — and beatings — will go on. That ballpark is more myth than possibility. A’s president Dave Kaval tweeted, offhandedly we’re told, about the team shifting to Vegas. Hey, the Raiders did it.

The A’s were beaten 9-6 on Tuesday night by the Houston Astros, the team with the big bats and big bucks. A club can get by only so long on new kids and overachievers. Eventually, class and star power take control, as the Dodgers did in the World Series against Tampa Bay last year.

It is hardly surprising that the A’s current home, their home since they came to Oakland from Kansas City in 1968, is a negative.

The holiday series this past weekend against the Red Sox, the so-called “Reopening” without Covid-19 restrictions for the first time in a season and a half, drew only 61,000 for three games.

As we’ve been told repetitively, and correctly, the A’s need another ballpark. That it might be located far away from Oakland is the hard truth.

Venus wants more matches, not more questions

Venus Williams always was the quiet one, the protective one, the classic older sister. Serena Williams could give us some great comments as well as great tennis, but Venus was measured in her remarks.

We’ll never really know what she thinks about her slide from the top.

At age 41, what Venus wants is another match, not another question about growing old. However, she can’t have one without the other.

Serena is a five-part drama. She shouts at chair umpires, swears at linespeople and even unintentionally becomes the prima donna, as she did on Tuesday, when in her Wimbledon first-round match she slipped, injured a hamstring and was forced to withdraw.

A day later, almost unnoticed, in part because of her personality, in part because of the decline of her game, Venus was defeated — crushed actually — 7-5, 6-0, by the rising young Tunisian, Ons Jabeur.

Bageled in the second set, as the tennis people say about getting blanked. How depressing. At least to us, if not to Venus.

“She has nothing to prove,” was the observation that Chris Evert made on ESPN about Williams. Quite true, and quite historical. In an earlier era, it was Evert who dropped from the top — and when asked why she continued on tour said something like, there’s nothing wrong with being third.

Not at all, but these days, Venus Williams isn’t third. Or 13th. When she won her Wimbledon opener on Monday, it was the first time in a year she’s made it to the second round of a Grand Slam.

You rarely know what a great athlete is thinking as the end nears, especially in an individual sport such as tennis where there’s no GM or coach to push you out the door.

A champion tennis player may not hurt herself by continuing to compete, but she will hurt her fans. And her image.  

They were involved in different sports, but Willie Mays, Joe Namath and Johnny Unitas were almost embarrassments in their final seasons. You hated to suffer through games.

You wonder if it bothers the athlete as much as it does the people who watch him or her?

Indeed, it’s often a group of sportswriters or announcers — who never retire — calling on the athlete to step away.

Once I asked Joe Montana why he kept playing, “You can retire and return to your work,” he replied. “When I retire, it’s over.”

Besides, sports are what they know and where they made their living and reputation. You’ve heard athletes, football players particularly, say that nothing replaced the feeling of playing the game.

More athletes are staying longer, and please don’t pester them. Even when somewhat surprisingly, as was the situation with Venus for ESPN, they consent to talk. And not say much.

“I’ve done a thousand interviews,” Williams insisted, “and now only the truth comes out.”

Venus was a 14-year-old when in October 1994, at what then was called Oakland Coliseum Arena, she played her first pro match, defeating Shaun Stafford. There have been dozens of other victories, seven in Grand Slams, through the years. Also, as Venus noted, dozens of questions.

Which is why, as is the case with her tennis, she goes through a well-practiced routine, full of cliches such as “You can’t win them all.”

In the ESPN bit, when Chris McKendry asked, “What’s the key to your longevity?” Venus replied, “I’m tired of talking about it.”

Chris Evert interrupted and joked, “How’s your love life?” “I’m very single,” said Venus. “I might be available, actually.”

Evert added, “You and me both.”

Venus is very available as a player and apparently will be for some time, despite the losses and age.

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.