This is a continuation of my previous post reflecting on the experience I had last week attending the 2008 United States Open. I’m writing it more for posterity’s sake than anything else…
With my ticket to Monday’s action in hand my dad and I headed home. Upon returning to our car we both had a number of text messages from people expressing their amazement/exasperation/jealousy. We made a quick stop at home before heading over to church and found out that Tiger and Rocco were teeing off at 9:00 the next morning. Dad had to pick up Mom at the airport in Irvine at noon, but they didn’t have to be at the port in Long Beach for their cruise until 5:00 pm.
That meant Dad could go.
We briefly searched for tickets available on the internet. We’d found out from Christie that there weren’t any tickets being made available to the general public, and only those who had bought four-day passes to the whole tournament were given tickets to the playoff. Later that night when we got home from church we found some tickets for sale on craigslist, and made contact with one guy who was selling tickets, but the next morning when we called him he didn’t pick up. We drove down to La Jolla and parked the car in a lot close to the golf course a little before 9:00 am. We walked towards the course, looking for anyone who might be selling tickets. No luck. We walked by the entrance and still couldn’t find anyone. We continued walking for about a hundred yards. By this point it was past 9:00. Dad suggested that I just head in to the tournament. They’d already teed off, and it didn’t make sense for me to miss it. He’d keep looking for a while, and if he found a ticket he’d meet me inside, and if not he’d just head up to Irvine. I reluctantly agreed. I turned and headed towards the entrance to the course, praying in my head the kind of prayer where I knew there were a million other more important issues in the world that needed prayer, but nonetheless telling God that it would be really cool if somehow Dad was able to find a ticket. Silly, I know.
While walking through the area between the entrance to the course and the place where they checked tickets I encountered a elderly, wealthy looking woman. Here is the conversation we had to the best of my memory. Her words are in italics:
“Do you need a ticket?” Looks and sees my tickets attached to my belt loop. “Oh, no you don’t, you’ve already got one.”
“Well actually how much are you selling them for?”
“I own the pro shop here and I’m giving them away for free.”
“Oh my gosh, well my dad is out there trying to find a ticket, I’d love to be able to give him one, can I have one?”
She opened her wallet, revealing about 20 tickets, and pulled one out. “Just tell your Dad that I own the pro shop here and we’ll be open tomorrow. And don’t sell it!”
“Ma’am, you have my word that I won’t sell this ticket, thank you so much.”
With ticket in hand I sprinted out the gates towards the direction my dad had walked. I wasn’t entirely sure he had continued that way, since before we parted ways he had talked about going to the other entrance to look for tickets, so I figured I’d run as fast as I could for two minutes in this direction, and if I didn’t see him I’d turn around and sprint back to where we’d parked and hope to catch him before he left. After running for about 30 seconds I looked up and saw him running towards me!
Me: Hey, I got a ticket!
Dad: What? Where’d you get it from?
Me: A lady I ran into gave it to me for free, she said she owned the pro shop.
Dad: I just bought a ticket for $60!
We were both a little bit bummed that money had to be spent unnecessarily, but were nonetheless very happy that we both had tickets, and we headed into the tournament. On our way in we found a group of guys looking for tickets, and we were able to give them our extra ticket. We walked through the gates, had our tickets scanned, and we were in. We high fived each other. “We made it!” I said as we walked towards the course. I’m sure I would have had a good time watching Tiger and Rocco by myself, but I can hardly express how glad I was that my dad was able to make it in there with me. It made the whole experience so much better.
So there we were, on the grounds for this historic 18-hole match up. There was Tiger Woods, an athlete who has dominated his sport like none other of this generation. He can’t be called the Michael Jordan of golf. Not even MJ dominated like Tiger. On the other hand there was Rocco, the jovial Pennsylvania-born Italian. He was 45, and was vying to become the oldest U.S. Open champ in history. But he was ranked 157th in the world. He didn’t have a prayer, he was going to be totally over matched. This was going to be Tiger’s victory lap around Torrey Pines, and I was excited simply to be there to witness it. It would have been silly to even hope for a close match. Here is Rick Reilly’s video-essay preview:
We jogged down the first fairway in an attempt to catch up to the Hurricane and the June Bug who were on the second hole. We saw on a scoreboard that Tiger was already up by one, having parred the first hole (something he was unable to do during the four days of the tournament). Unlike Sunday, the morning June gloom had lifted somewhat, so jogging down the first hole we were able to look out over the cliffs and see the ocean. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day.
We caught up to Tiger and Rocco in the second fairway and saw them both hit their approach shots, both of which led to pars. We knew that there was no way we’d be able to get a decent view of the par 3 3rd hole, so we went from the second hole to try and find a good place to watch the fourth. As we walked we heard the crowd roar. We found a woman who had a small TV-type thing that some spectators had and saw a replay of Rocco’s tee shot on 3 that came to rest about six inches from the hole. Had it gone in I would have been really sorry that we missed it. Rocco birdied the hole and Tiger bogeyed, so just like that Rocco had a one shot lead. We watched the par 4 4th from the side of the rough and then the green, and watched both players make par. The crowd was loud and enthusiastic. “If Rocco can keep this thing close,” I said to my dad. “He’s going to be the crowd favorite by the end of the day.” Crowds love underdogs.
The biggest difference between Sunday and Monday was that we brought little folding chairs with us to stand on. That enabled us to be several rows deep in the gallery and still see perfectly well. On Sunday we had to strain to see just about anything, but on Monday we were able to set up our little chairs behind the crowd and get far better views than we had on Sunday. The fifth hole ran parallel to the fourth, so we were easily able to watch their tee shots. It was really amazing getting to watch these two players do battle. Tiger, the best player of all time, and Rocco, the oft injured journeyman pro who was fast becoming the crowd favorite. History was happening right in front of us. On the later half of the front nine Tiger picked up some ground. Rocco bogeyed 5, then Tiger birdied 6 and 7 to take a two shot lead. They made the turn with the same score, Tiger posting an even par 35 with Rocco at a 2 over 37.
As we were walking across the 5th hole, my dad and I talked about who we were rooting for. One thing I enjoy about golf is that you really, in a way, root for everyone. You applaud good shots, regardless of who hits them. I said that I was approaching this event like I’d approached the most recent Super Bowl. In that game I didn’t have a strong rooting interest, but I was rooting for the Giants simply because I wanted to see a good game and I had more faith in the Patriots’ ability to come back in the end. In the same way, I was rooting for Rocco early on, because I knew that Tiger could make up ground easily. If Tiger got ahead on the other hand, things could get ugly quick. Dad said he was rooting for Tiger, because the great players of each generation are remembered for the majors that they win, and it would be neat to say that we were there when Tiger one one of his. A good point. Like I said, by the ninth hole Tiger was up two, and it was looking like he was going to put Rocco away.
At this point my dad said that if Tiger started to pull away he would have to consider leaving early. Mom was going to be waiting at the airport, and he didn’t want to make her wait too long, seeing as how they were getting ready to go on their anniversary trip. Him leaving would of course leave a decision for me, since he was my ride home, and he had my cell phone in his car (they weren’t allowed in the tournament). I respected my dad’s desire to honor my mom, but you wouldn’t have known it by my response: “Dad, this is the U.S. Open.” I knew they’d make the boat on time, and that she would understand.
By the back nine the crowds were absolutely enormous, and we knew we were going to have to pick and choose what holes we watched. We hustled around to try to get a good view of 10, where Rocco made bogey to fall three shots back. It was going to be Tiger in a rout. Then on the par 3 11th Tiger gave one back. We didn’t watch it because we were getting in position to watch the 12th hole. It was a 500 yard par 4 that was a pretty long walk from the 11th. We figured a lot of people wouldn’t walk all the way out there, and we were right. We were actually able to enjoy a few moments walking on the left side of 12 without a bunch of people around us. We stood by the fairway, but then eventually decided to head up to the green and take our place in the grandstand to ensure that we had a seat. From the grandstand we of course had a perfect view of their approach shots. Rocco crushed his approach 240 yards, placing it on the green and easily two putting for par. Tiger, on the other hand, made bogey. All of a sudden it was a one shot match. We had ourselves a ball game. We had positioned ourselves right next to the aisle in the grandstand, so as soon as they made their puts we quickly ran over to 13 and watched them tee off.
It bears mentioning that watching golf live is a lot of work. I’d say that my dad and I ran at least a mile or two during the course of the day in our pursuit of the best views. Often times when we were standing waiting for Tiger and Rocco to play through we were discussing our next move. I appreciate the fact that my dad is 53 years old and can quite easily keep up with me running around the golf course. Truth be told I was often the one having trouble keeping up with him! Running around the course allowed us to see a lot more, and it allowed us to have much better views that we otherwise would have. In a sense, just running through the course like that, looking at the course map, and plotting out our moves was somewhat of a bonding experience. As I sit here typing it reminds me in a small way of our family’s vacation to Europe in 2005. My dad and I spent a lot of time reading maps and planning train trips for the family, and for me just working with him on that was one of the coolest parts of the whole trip. Ok, back to the golf.
13 was a mammoth 614 yard (!) par 5 (this was the longest course in U.S. Open history) and we were able to position ourselves directly behind Rocco and Tiger to watch their tee shots. Getting that sort of view of a tee shot was pretty rare, so it was neat to see. Both players made birdie on 13, so it was still a one stroke match. Then Rocco birdied 14, it was all tied up with four holes to play.
I turned to my dad. “Dad, you’re not leaving.”
“I know, I can’t.”
There is no way you leave a U.S. Open playoff with four holes to play. No way.
15 was one of the most amazing holes we saw all day. It was a 478 yard par 4. Dad and I positioned ourselves to the right hand side of the green where we had a great view of their approach shots. We saw Rocco split the fairway with his drive. Then, judging by the reaction of the gallery in the fairway, we were able to figure out that Tiger had pushed his drive way right. Thanks to some people around us who had the little TV things we were able to find out that Tiger had hit his drive into the fairway bunker on the 9th hole. He’d pushed it that far to the right. We joked about how it was nice to see that pros did that too sometimes. Rocco had the clear advantage, playing from the middle of the fairway. He landed his ball about 20 feet past the hole, giving him a difficult downhill, heavily breaking birdie putt. Then came Tiger’s shot from the 9th hole fairway bunker. He had to hit it out of the sand, over the trees, and toward the green. There was no way he was going to put this thing anywhere close to the green. We weren’t able see him hit the ball (on account of the massive trees between us and him), but we did see the ball come in, land on the green, and spin back to land ten feet from the hole. That is why he is the best in the world. It was unbelievable. The gallery went nuts as both men approached the green. Italian-esque shouts of “‘Ey Rocco!” mixed with “You the man Tiger!” I think most of us were in disbelief at the shot that Tiger had just hit. What was even more unbelievable was that Rocco hit a beautiful putt to make birdie (by the way…watching someone make a great golf shot while standing in a huge gallery is very cool…people go nuts), while Tiger missed his. 15 holes in Rocco was in the lead. The 158th ranked player in the world had the number 1 player on the ropes. They both made par on 16, and then we were able to position ourselves right next to the green on 17. As we waited, my dad said, “You know, it’s funny how it just seems like Tiger is going to pull this thing out. I just have a feeling.” I agreed. Even though he was behind, I couldn’t imagine him not coming back and winning. It’s Tiger. That’s just what he does. Both players made par on 17, so it went to the final hole with Tiger down one. And of course, 18 was a par 5, the site of Tiger’s eagle on Saturday and his enormous birdie putt on Sunday that forced the playoff.
“It doesn’t get any better than this,” I said as we ran around to the right hand side of 18 in an attempt to find a place to watch what we thought was the final hole. Tiger, gimpy knee and all, was able to will one more drive down the fairway. He followed that up with a tremendous second shot that put him on the green in two, 45 feet from the left of the hole. We knew that walking any closer to the green would make it nearly impossible to see, so we watched from about 200 yards out as Rocco was able to get himself onto the green in three, himself about 15 fee to the left of the hole. “I sure hope they finish this thing here,” my dad said. “Because there is no way I can stay for a playoff.” I looked at my watch. He was right. I respect that about my dad. We were watching one of the greatest sporting events of all time, and he was still considering my mom and her needs. He’s a stand up guy. I hoped they’d finish it on that hole too…the last thing I wanted was for Dad to come to Sunday and Monday of the U.S. Open and not get to see a champion crowned.
As Tiger and Rocco walked to the green the place went absolutely nuts. It had been a battle for the ages. These two men had provided the 20,000+ spectators with an unbelievable day of golf. Rocco, the 45-year old with the creaking back had matched the greatest of all time shot for shot, and now strode to the 18th green with a one shot lead. Even though I knew it was foolish I had hoped for a close match. Boy, did we ever get it. Standing on our chairs we watched as Tiger hit his put. He pushed it by the hole by about three feet. That meant Rocco had a putt to win it all. 15 feet, downhill, breaking right to left. And he hit it just a little bit high. Tiger knocked in his three footer, and that meant playoff time.
Ever since my dad’s pronouncement about needing to leave if it went to a playoff I’d been debating with myself what I should do. He was, after all, my ride…and he had my cell phone. Getting home without him would certainly be a challenge. Plus, this was something that we’d done together. The last two days had been an incredible father/son experience, and in a sense I kind of wanted it to end at the same time for both of us. On the other hand, this was going to be a sudden death playoff. Dad started walking towards the exit and I walked with him as I contemplated my decision. He offered to give me $20 to help offset the cost of getting home on public transportation, which I gratefully accepted. Ultimately, the decision came down to the fact that it was difficult to imagine a scenario in which I would later be kicking myself for staying at the tournament, whereas it was easy to imagine being upset at myself for leaving and missing a great finish. So I gave my dad a hug, and we exchanged thank yous. One cool thing about the tournament stretching out to Monday was that I was able to buy tickets for one of the days, and he bought them for the other (and he bought food and t-shirts on Sunday)…we were both able to be thankful towards each other. I walked back down the 18th hole, sad that my time with my dad was over, but so grateful for what an amazing time it was.
I didn’t even know what hole they were starting on. I’d heard 17, I’d heard 18, I’d heard 7. It was difficult to tell, because people had crowded about three different grandstands, hoping that the playoff would eventually reach that grandstand’s hole. I eventually was able to figure out that they were starting on 7, and made my way over. I thought about stopping and grabbing a bite to eat, because I was famished. We’d each eaten a couple of granola bars in the morning, but we hadn’t eaten anything since arriving at the course. We were too busy running around watching golf to discuss the possibility of stopping for food. I thought I had time, but then I heard the roar of the crowd indicating that tee shots had already been hit.
I scurried over and found a place on the left side of 7. Thankful, once again, for the presence of my folding chair, I was able to get a great view of the fairway and the green. Tiger was in the fairway, Rocco was in the fairway bunker. That was not good for Rocco. Then, Rocco yanked his second shot way left, hitting the grandstand that my dad and I had sat in on the previous day. Tiger put his second shot on the green, but he still had a substantial putt in front of him. Rocco was able to take a drop, giving him a difficult third shot (though he was much better off playing from the drop area than playing from in front of the grandstand. He landed the 40 yard shot near the front of the green and proceeded to roll past the hole about 15 feet. I’d managed to position myself right behind a rather opinionated fan with a pronounced surfer’s accent who was apparently quite upset that Rocco had been able to drop his ball where he did. I decided I would be wasting my breath if I attempted to explain the drop rule to him. Tiger hit a beautiful putt on his birdie attempt that stopped just inches shy of the cup. He dropped to his knees in exasperation, in disbelief that the putt had come up short. He tapped in for par. Rocco had one last chance.
It was a tough putt, especially with the U.S. Open on the line. He looked at it from every angle, took a few practice strokes and then struck the ball. Here’s the video of Tiger’s putt followed by Rocco’s.
He hit it just a touch high, and it rolled by the hole, coming to rest less than two feet away from it. The crowd groaned, and then erupted in applause for the new U.S. Open champion, and for the nobody that gave him the fight of his life. The two men embraced on the green, and the crowd continued to show their appreciation. I could hardly believe it was over. The feeling that my dad, and I’m sure countless others, had, that Tiger was going to come back and win this thing, proved to be right. We most certainly were going to have the privilege of being able to say that we were there for one of the greatest ever’s major championship victories.
I walked over to the concession stand, finally got some overpriced food, and made my way over to the 18th green for the trophy presentation. Unfortunately the P.A. system wasn’t working very well, so I wasn’t able to hear much of Tiger’s interview. I did hear him say that this was his greatest win ever.
His greatest win ever?
This man won the 1997 Masters by 12 shots. He lapped the field at the U.S. Open in 2000, winning by an unheard of 15 shots. He has won a total of 14 major championships. And he called this one his greatest. What an honor to be there to see it. And then, two days later, to learn that Tiger had played the entire week with a torn ACL and two stress fractures on his left leg just added to the mystique. It was one of the greatest, toughest, gutsiest performances in sports history. The crowd cheered him wildly, while also cheering his challenger. During a brief silent moment someone in the grandstand shouted, “Thanks for the memories, Rocco!”, and the crowd applauded. Thanks for the memories, indeed.
And with that, the 2008 U.S. Open came to a close. Some random USGA official came to the microphone and began thanking different people, and I decided it was time to figure out how I was going to get home. Tiger and Rocco had put on an epic show, the golf course was stunning, the weather was perfect, and for all but one of those holes, I had great company. It was truly one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I’ve written it all down here in hopes that years from now I can return to this and relive this amazing time, from Tiger’s putt on 18 on Sunday, to his ridiculous sand shot on 15 on Monday, to Rocco and his never-say-die spirit, to the smell of the grass, to the look of the course, to the hours of conversation with my dad, there was much that took place on Sunday and Monday that I don’t ever want to forget. In closing, I’ll post three more videos…one an interview with both Tiger and Rocco after their match, the second ESPN’s highlights of the playoff round, and the final video another wonderful video essay from Rick Reilly that appropriately toasts Rocco and his amazing, improbable performance in the United States Open Championship.
