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.

A special vision of 9/11

It was one of those classic East Coast thunderstorms, full of sound, fury and buckets of rain.

Even before the pilot announced the delay, it was obvious we would be stuck for a long while on the tarmac at JFK airport in New York.

My plans would have to change. Who could guess within hours the world was about to change? 

It was Monday evening, Sept. 10, 2001. A day earlier, I had covered the men’s final of the U.S. Open tennis championships at Flushing Meadows, only a few miles from where our jet sat while the downpour continued.

Lleyton Hewitt, an Australian barely out of his teens, had crushed Pete Sampras. In the women’s final Saturday, then-dominant Venus Williams, 21, defeated younger sister Serena, still a few days from her 20th birthday.

A great Open, but now I was headed to another continent, Europe, for a few days of vacation in Italy followed by another sport, golf, the Ryder Cup at the Belfry in England. It all seemed so neat, so organized.

But the flight, to London’s Heathrow, was late. The flight to Florence, Italy, departed from another airport, Gatwick, to which I had to bus some 45 miles. It now was around noon in Britain. The next flight to Italy wouldn’t leave for hours.

The crowd in the waiting lounge moved toward one of the TV sets at the bar.

Jet-lagged and clueless, I asked someone what was happening. ”Oh,” he said unemotionally, “a plane hit a building in New York.”

What? I pushed through everyone to get a better look at a TV screen, a bit rude by British standards, dropping an occasional “Sorry,” just to show Americans had some manners.

The enormity of the disaster was becoming a reality. Flights throughout the U.S. had been halted. In Europe, some still were operating, My wife, a travel agent, had been in Rome and was aboard a train to Florence, unaware of the attacks.

This was 20 years ago, a lifetime technologically, before everyone from Katmandu to Kentucky had an iPhone. But there were cell phones, or as the Brits call them, mobile phones.

I had rented one for my wife in case of an emergency, never imagining the emergency would be an attack on the United States. I went to a pay phone in the terminal and connected to my wife as the train rolled.

The Ryder Cup, which used to be played in odd years, was postponed. Last autumn it was postponed again because of the Covid-19 outbreak, returning to the odd-year schedule, it will be held again in a couple weeks at Whistling Straits, north of Milwaukee.

A few times when I’ve been in New York for the Open, I’ve made a sobering visit to ground zero. There is a memorial fountain and the tattered, scorched remnant of an American flag pulled from the flames.

I made it to Italy the night of the attack on one of the last planes still permitted to fly, then on CNN watched as did millions of others all the news reports, depressed and frightened.

The next morning my wife and I shared a breakfast table in a plaza with an English couple, who expressed their condolences and asked whether America would respond.

Two decades later, there only are partial answers. I’m just grateful that on the afternoon of Sept. 10, 2001, I had the opportunity for one last look at the twin towers. The vision will stay forever.

Fans chant ‘Beat LA.’ Somehow Giants did

The Dodgers are the better team. They have to be. With all that high-price talent, the MVPs, the Cy Young Award winners, the seemingly endless streak of division championships

 But the Giants have the better record.  Against the rest of baseball. Against  L.A. Or at least that’s how it stood before Monday, when each team was to play an afternoon game on Labor Day, the traditional end of summer but also the traditional start of panic time.

 It was a telling weekend for the Giants, who in taking two of three from the Dodgers, including a somewhat nerve-wracking, 6-2 ,win Sunday evening in an ESPN special, showed they are more than merely the sum of their parts.

  This was what we had waited for in the town called Frisco—apologies, Herb Caen-- a roaring, dramatic matchup in spectacular weather and with historical tension.

  When someone said rivalry, this is what they meant, two clubs who have been going at it for decades, from one end of America  to the other.

  The glamour, wealth and—yes, arrogance—of Hollywood against the schizophrenia of Nor Cal. In L.A. the Giants are just another team. In the Bay Area, the Dodgers are an obsession, the enemy.

  The chant in Francisco isn’t “Go Giants” Rather it’s a rhythmic “Beat L.A.”

  And twice in three games that were packed with great hitting, erratic fielding—and every time Max Muncy or Justin Turner or Will Smith came to bat deep breaths—the Giants did just that,  beat L.A.

 One way or another now, the Giants will get to the post-season, if they retain the slim edge over the Dodgers as division champs; if not as a wild card.

 But beating L.A., the World Series champs and still right to this very moment the betting favorite to repeat, was an emotional triumph as well as an actual one.

  Maybe the Dodgers didn’t think so, but the Giants did. Look at Sunday’s pitchers. The Dodgers started Walker Buehler, who may win the National League Cy Young Award. The Giants tried almost everybody who could throw a baseball.

 It was a mismatch.  It was a surprise. It was baseball.

  Was it Yogi Berra who once said, “In baseball  you don’t know nothing”? The grammar isn’t as important as the message.

 The Giants, who were to play at Denver, Monday, where their one-game lead may be stolen, were as enthralled with the series against the Dodgers as their fans at Oracle Park.

  “This is what we’re used to over the years.,” said All-Star shortstop Brandon Crawford, “winning and big crowds. “

  And turning what had been a laughter—the Giants were ahead, 6-2 going into the top of the ninth—into an all-too-typical hang on victory.  

  Albert Pujols hit a two-run homer, the next batter singled and, well, the Giants survived.

  “I thought it was appropriate,” said Giants manager Gabe Kapler, able to speak freely after the final out. “Baseball is theater. These fans (some 40,000-of them) appreciate an exciting moment.”

  What they don’t appreciate is blowing a game.

But with good old, (relatively speaking) Brandon Belt homering,  Steven Duggar tripling and Crawford and LaMonte Wade Jr. getting doubles, they didn’t lose.
  Now the rest of the season.

 “Looking at things on paper, you know you have your work cut out for you,” said Kapler

   “Getting through this game and seeing we’re tough enough to manage a situation like that (numerous pitchers) will give us confidence — not just for the next time we play the Dodgers, whenever that time comes, but also for the Colorado and Chicago series coming up.”

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end

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?

Someday, there won’t be another Serena

Another great one is all but finished. If this isn’t the end of Serena Williams’ career, you can see it from here.

That brings us to the observation by Red Smith about the memories and possibilities that endear us to sport. “I told myself not to worry,” Smith wrote in his last column ever. “Someday, there would be another Joe DiMaggio.”

There would not, but there would be a Willie Mays and a Hank Aaron and a Roberto Clemente. Different from the great DiMaggio, but also the same, superb athletes who made their mark.

That we identify with the present, especially when our games and our stars are almost inescapable on television, is normal. But sport has a past and certainly a future.

There won’t be another Serena, whose serve and fire made her appealing and occasionally appalling, uninhibited and — in the biggest matches — unrelenting.

In many minds and hearts, she’s irreplaceable.

The uniform is our link in team sports. Laundry, if you will. Giants fans abhorred Reggie Smith when he was with the Dodgers. Their opinions changed when he joined the Giants. 

In tennis and golf, your guys and ladies are always yours — even when they step away, intentionally or not.

Depending on how you define the word, by years or by notable individuals, this has been a spectacular era for tennis. Pete Sampras, Andy Murray and the Big Three of Roger Federer, Rafa Nadal, and Novak Djokovic in the men’s game, Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert, Lindsay Davenport and then Venus and Serena Williams for the women.

Now almost without warning, except for the presence of Djokovic, the era has closed. Some are long gone. Others are falling victim to time and injury.

Serena withdrew from the coming U.S. Open because of a sore hamstring. After Nadal withdrew because of a bad foot. After Federer withdrew because of knee surgery.

Federer just turned 40, Serena will be 40 in September. There is another generation moving in, while the previous one moves on — sport emulating life itself.

We’ve heard it, and we’ve lived it: Youth will be served, although none of those young women possesses the explosive serve of Serena Williams.

She built her success, the 23 Grand Slams. She built her fan base. When she was on court, Serena was on a cloud. Her fans seemed to plead more than cheer. “Come on Serena,” they would whine.

Now she’s going, not coming. There’s no announcement of termination, and none should be expected. Tennis players always believe there will be another game, another set.

“After careful consideration and following the advice of my doctors and medical team, I have decided to withdraw from the U.S. Open to allow my body to heal completely from a torn hamstring,” Serena wrote on Instagram.

When you’re a few weeks from your 40th birthday, bodies rarely heal completely or even incompletely. As the years grow, so do the ailments. “Your body’s like a bar of soap — it just keeps wearing down,” said the ballplayer Dick Allen.

DiMaggio, his legs aching, retired from baseball after the 1951 season, aware he couldn’t perform to the high standards he had established and knowing a kid named Mickey Mantle would take over centerfield for the Yankees.

But who takes over Centre Court at Wimbledon in place of Serena? Or Center Court at Flushing Meadows? Other players will fill the openings, but they won’t fill the bill.

Red Smith knew full well there wouldn’t be another DiMaggio. We know there won’t be another Serena. You can say we were lucky to have the one we did.

Is it Lance for the Niners — or Garoppolo?

Bill Walsh had a concise plan for the care, preparation and advancement of a young quarterback. The rookie year, with exception, he watches from the bench. The second year, he gets into the lineup in situations where he has a chance to succeed. The third year, he starts.

So neat and efficient, and with a guy named Joe Montana, effective. But Montana was a mere third-round pick, and it was a time, the early 1980s, when teams — if not fans — had a degree of patience.

Now they are impatient, especially with high draft picks, who through a lot of maneuvering and draft trades, end up at a place where — such as Trey Lance — they and the franchise are expected to succeed immediately.

Which, if not impossible, is unlikely. Meaning the 49ers early on probably will go with semi-reliable Jimmy Garoppolo, who unlike Lance has been the starter in several NFL games, one of those Super Bowl LIV.

Yes. Garoppolo and the Niners were defeated in that game. No, Niners GM John Lynch and head coach “Cool Kyle” Shanahan, do not perceive Garoppolo as the long-range choice. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have mortgaged so much to get the third pick in the 2021 draft.

But now it’s the short range, which is of immediate importance, and knowing the complexity of the game, and wary of having his rookie getting pummeled physically and mentally, Shanahan surely will go with Garoppolo.

Although he would never say as much. And that’s fine. Or why would we pay attention to what are exhibition games under a different label?

After Sunday’s game against the Chargers in Los Angeles, a 15-10 win, in which Lance was both good and bad—normal for a rookie in only his second game—Shanahan was asked if Garoppolo would be the starter when the NFL schedule began.

“No, I’m not making that announcement,” said the coach with a devilish grin. “Nice try though.”

Quarterback competition, genuine or imagined, is virtually the only thing that keeps training camp more than, well, training camp—players going through drills which only coaches love. “Run that one again, and stay away from the linebacker.”

The athletes get weary of the repetition and sometimes of getting pounded by the same teammates, which is why teams schedule workouts against someone else. 

Do you find it curious that the Chargers and 49ers faced each other in practice and then in a game that was little more than a practice?

I’ve found it curious that many fans want to watch practice, which can be boring except to the skilled eye.

No question Shanahan knows what is happening—or what isn’t. Kyle was the offensive coordinator for the Atlanta Falcons before being hired by the Niners, and Kyle’s father, Mike was offensive coordinator for the Niners under George Seifert, helping win a Super Bowl before becoming head coach at Denver and winning two Super Bowls.

With that background and experience, Shanahan has a good chance of making the right decision on the Niners quarterback—after keeping the rest of us involved and in a bit of suspense.

“Whatever Trey does,” Shanahan said about the kid he wanted in last April’s draft, “the eyes are going to be on him.”

They’ll also be on Shanahan. 

“In a season,” said Norv Turner, the longtime coach, “a good quarterback will win you two games you wouldn’t have won.”

The Niners won a lot of games with Montana and then Steve Young as their quarterbacks. 

Now they need to win with Trey Lance. Or Jimmy Garoppolo.

Great day for scoreboard watching—and Baysball

OAKLAND—There’s something good to be said about the Oakland Coliseum, which leaders of major league baseball wish still wasn’t home to the Athletics.

It has one of those massive, old-fashioned scoreboards, where the numbers are posted by hand and stay there until a change is needed.

Which is just perfect for Logan Webb.

He pitches for the team across the Bay, the San Francisco Giants,  where the home ballpark, Oracle, has everything except a scoreboard easy to see since it’s stuck under the archways in right field.

Webb was the starter Sunday when San Francisco, for the second straight day, would get a miracle win over Oakland, this one, 2-1. He didn’t get the decision, coming out after six, but he did get in his viewpoints.

 “We’re not supposed to look at the scoreboard,” he said of the pennant races, “but it’s human nature to see what’s happening.”

Especially with the Dodgers having moved up on the Giants. And the A’s trying gain on the Astros in the American League.

L.A. finally lost (phew) after nine straight wins and slipped to 2 ½ back of San Francisco. Houston also lost, so their lead over the A’s in the American League is 3 ½ games.

You know what befell the A’s.-- the Giants double whammy. Saturday, a two-out, two-run pinch hit home run in the ninth by Lamonte Wade Jr.  Sunday, a two-out, two-run, pinch hit home run in the eighth by Donovan Solano.

“It’d been a tough two days,” sighed Frankie Montas. He went seven innings for Oakland on Sun, not giving up a run.

A very tough two days, but for the city series that was and the team and baseball in general also a magnificent time;, crowds that  truly  were crowds, 44,000 for the A’s win Friday night, then in order, 36,000 Saturday and 30,000 on Sunday.

“This was fun,” said Jake McGee,  who got credit for a save Sunday. “Great baseball, sellout crowds”

Maybe not as much fun for the Athletics, having two games virtually stolen—as last year the A’s did the thievery—but perhaps they can appreciate the big picture; that baseball and Oakland remain perfect pas.

 A few months ago the commissioner, Robert Manfred, made more than veiled threats  about the game’s future—or lack of same--in the East Bay. Haven’t heard any comments from his office about the attendance for the A’s-Giants series.

The stands were full of the full-throated enjoyment that baseball brings., fans for both teams bellowing out rolling chants; “Let’s go Oakland,” matched by “Let’s go Giants.”

It’s been a while, probably not since the clubs faced off in the 1989 World Series, since there was such good-natured appreciation of what we had for too short a time.

For many the lasting impression of that World Series was the Loma Prieta earthquake, which destroyed freeways along with our dreams. The A‘s swept the Giants; sport, however, was overwhelmed by nature. In a prelude to that Series, the New York Times, referring to but not dwelling on the baseball hats that were half back and half green and gold, said the Series involved a region in love with itself.

That’s still the case. There’s respect between the organizations as well as competition. When Sergio Romo came in to pitch for the A’s Sunday it was quite easy to remember when he used to come in for the Giants. And for those who have forgotten, A’s manager Bob Melvin was a catcher for the Giants.

As someone once wrote, “That’s Baysball.” And it’s special.

Within months, golf and tennis lose their main men

The story was less a surprise than a disappointment. Roger Federer will undergo another knee operation.

The career of the most popular man in tennis may be finished. Only a few months after an accident surely put an end to the career of the most popular man in golf, Tiger Woods.

Two sports dependent on personalities losing their prime personalities, virtually at the same time. Ironic. Unfortunate.

They had slipped, but not from our memories. Or in the TV ratings. Federer won 20 Grand Slams, more than 100 tournaments. Tiger won 15 majors, 82 tournaments.

Woods is 45, Federer just 40. Once they were linked not only by greatness but by commerce, each wearing attire with the Nike logo until Federer switched two years ago to Uniqlo. Woods at times would attend Federer’s matches.

Now neither is able to play, and we are left with the question whether they’ll ever be able to play, other than in an exhibition.

We know that nothing, and no one, lasts forever. The history books and media guides are reminders. We grow up hearing and reading about legends, Babe Ruth, Bill Tilden, Johnny Unitas, maybe Rod Laver, who just turned 83 and is the last man to win the true Grand Slam, all four majors in a single calendar.

But there’s a special connection to those we’ve watched and cheered, if only silently, as they performed. Arnold Palmer may have made tournament golf the game it would become, but over most of the past 30 years Woods was the man.

Just as, starting in 2001 when he defeated Pete Sampras at Wimbledon, Federer was the man, as popular in Britain as any English player.

The late Bill Veeck, who owned the St. Louis Browns (he once ordered 3-foot-7 Eddie Gaedel sent up to bat) and understood how to get people in the park, said, “If you had to depend on baseball fans for support you’d be out of business by Mother’s Day.”

Veeck had a gimmick, a midget. Tennis and golf had figurative giants, players even somebody who didn’t know a bogey from a birdie or a double fault from the San Andreas Fault would recognize.

Roger Federer got you headlines and viewers — and ticket sales.

Sure, there are other top players, Novak Djokovic, the current world’s No. 1; Rafael Nadal, who along with Djokovic and Federer has 20 Slams. But they weren’t the same as Roger.

Federer didn’t mention the “R” word, retirement, but from what he told the New York Times in discussing what lays ahead, the future is hazy at best.

“I will be on crutches for many weeks and also out of the game for many months,” Federer said. “It’s going to be difficult of course in some ways, but at the same time I know it’s the right thing to do.

“Because I want to be running around later as well again, and I want to give myself a glimmer of hope also to return to the tour in some shape. I am realistic, don’t get me wrong. I know how difficult it is at this age right now to do another surgery and try it, but look, I want to be healthy.”

The health of tennis may be in question, not at the Slams but at tournaments such as the BNP Paribas at Indian Wells, where Federer usually was as entrant at an event he described as one of his favorites.

Change is a constant in sport, and there always are dozens of talented athletes capable of becoming a winner. Yet only a very few have the magic to make us care.

Tiger and Roger did, and now they’re not playing.

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.

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.