Two Green Swallows

Back to the Black for a second day of floundering professionals making all the hackers and executive course players feel like they have a chance. I was not disappointed.

The rowdy New Yorkers were back, as was the poor putting performance. After an aggregate of over four hours spent camping out at the greens of 15 and 17, the latter home of Saturday's best crowds, there was a total of two birdies. The first by George McNeill as I mentioned earlier, and the second by Ricky Barnes. As me and my two friends stood on the hill overlooking the 17th in the early afternoon we wanted nothing more than somebody to sink a terrific putt or hole one from the front bunkers, but we were to be disappointed. Only Barnes, whom we rooted against wholeheartedly for no other reason than he was killing the buzz of a keeping anyone close to him was up to the task.

After the disappointment of the green and the further anger presented by a $8 soggy panini, we headed back to the space where Saturday's magic happened, the space between the second green and third tee for the start of the fourth round.

The atmosphere was electric. Reminescent of a College Football game as the second green screamed at every spectator who returned with beer and chanted "Three Tee SUCKS!" in unison. The third tee, who I pledged my allegiance to, being all of 4 feet from the tee marker, was not to be outdone responded with a just as boisterous "Two Green Swallows!" (How vulgar! In a game of gentleman!) Every player coming off the second green was further greeted by the wave from the third tee grandstand all the way down to the hill alongside the second fairway. Fans who had either never heard of Nottinghamshire or were too drunk to pronounce the included syllables now counted one of its residents among their favorite golfers.

Lee Westwood (Todd Hamilton did too, so he doesn't feel left out when he googles his name and stumbles upon this blog) was all about the crowd, throwing his ball into the grandstand and encouraging a louder wave, even joining in when the grandstand jeered and booed the hill section for failing to keep up with their section of the wave. Even as the USGA was upset at the crowd of the day before, closing the alcohol stands a whole 15 minutes earlier (THE GAUL!!), and generally being a Buzz Killington, Westwood was all the crowd wanted, someone who embraced the antics and had with it, not the robot that generally populates the PGA tour (see: Lucas Glover).

When the horn sounded with Phil Mickelson ready to tee off "within spitting distance" of me as one friend of mine noted, and play was stopped for darkness that would have meant about 3-4 more holes for me, the disappointment was noticeable. The crowd was ready to erupt. But hey, at least we get to go back for another day of golf.