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FARMINGDALE, N.Y. — At the end of golf's holiest week — the four (or five) days of the national championship — the players, the ones in contention down the stretch, are completely worn out: shot nerves, heavy feet, aching head. You're more spent after a U.S. Open than after any of the other majors. The players, being well-trained in the fine art of public relations, will shake hands with state troopers and sign autographs for kids and answer questions from reporters, often meaningfully. But what they say is one thing, and what their faces say is something else.
Tiger's face, at 11:42 Monday morning, said it all. He was walking alone (always a rare and interesting site) to a little riser where he would answer questions from about a dozen writers. His head was straight up, but his chin was jutting and his cheeks were narrow. He was fuming, as annoyed as you will ever see him, off the course. There was a hint of perspiration on his face, commas of sweat on either side of his mouth. There was mud on his shoes and little flakes of grass on the cuffs of his black pants. When he answered questions, his hands were on his waist and his knees were bent. He still had his golf shoes on. He talked about how soft the course played, how different it was from the norm. That's where he's most comfortable, talking about technical things.
"You know," he said, "at some Opens sand wedges aren't holding."
There was a hint, just a hint, of a smile on his face. That thought was amusing to him, the idea that Bethpage Black played so soft when it was meant to be played hard. It was a wry sort of smile. What did it mean? Your guess is as good as anybody's, but here's one to consider: if this Open played like the USGA wanted it to, firm and fast, Tiger wins by three. A month of rain turned it into a Tour event. Tiger finished four shots out of a playoff.
Later, when Phil Mickelson emerged from the clubhouse, he did all the things we've come to expect from him. He showed up, once again, for a USGA prize-giving ceremony at which he wasn't the featured player. He signed a hundred autographs. He spoke openly and easily to reporters, about Amy and his tee shot on 17 and being in New York and all the rest. He's like a movie star, when in public. But earlier, at 1:03 Monday afternoon, shortly after coming off the course, he was sitting in a small upholstered chair in the scoring room in the Bethpage clubhouse, and he wasn't saying a word. There was a small TV about four feet in front of him, and for a long minute he stared at it impassively, his head not moving, and watched the NBC telecast of the golf.
Maybe 10 minutes later, David Duval climbed up the hill from the the 18th green, took his sleeping son in his arms, and crossed the red-brick back patio of the Bethpage clubhouse, on his way to the scoring room where Mickelson sat. Duval had on his orange-tinted wrap-arounds, just like he wore when he was the best player in the world, but by Monday at Bethpage Black he was a far different man: married, a father, with a slight paunch and more perspective. The New York fans were chanting his name — "DAY-vid, DAY-vid, DAY-vid" — and he raised his right arm in acknowledgement, staring straight ahead all the while.
The old stoic was keeping it together, or trying to. His son woke up. And at that moment, there seemed to be more emotion in Duval's face — for finishing in a three-way tie for second in the U.S. Open, for having a son in his arms, for fighting his way back into the game — than there was when he won the British Open in 2001.
And then there was the winner, Lucas Glover, your classic fairways-and-greens U.S. Open winner. It's hard to believe that he got to the U.S. Open trophy before Chad Campbell did, but there you are: golf's filled with surprises. Stoics win U.S. Opens. Yes, every once in a while a Payne Stewart will win, or a Fuzzy Zoeller, but U.S. Opens are pretty much for stoics. When Ken Venturi made his putt to win in 1964, he famously said to himself, "My God, I've won the Open." They all feel that, one way or the other. Some will say it and some will not, and at 1:18 p.m., in his exhaustion and elation, Lucas Glover pulled his Nike baseball camp almost down to the bridge of his nose, his eyes covered with his white hat's brim, and thought whatever he thought. Something along the lines of, "My God, I've won the Open."
And what of Ricky Barnes? He was the other U.S. Open winner this year. Yes, he frittered away a lead to finish in the threesome that finished two shots behind Glover, but make no mistake, Barnes was a winner on Monday. He got himself into next year's Masters. He got himself playing privileges for the 2010 PGA Tour. He got himself thinking he can make a living at this game, and maybe win, too. His bridesmaid partners, Duval and Mickelson, they already had all that, and much more.
You knew how Barnes felt about the week when you saw his face at the awards ceremony. There was only one silver medal for the runner-up, and three golfers who could make a claim to it. At the ceremony, Barnes said to the other members of his threesome, "The oldest should get it." And Mickelson, who has five runner-ups in U.S. Opens, said back, "I've got plenty — I'm good."
And Barnes let out such a hearty laugh, and his chin went north and his big white teeth sparkled despite the gray, dank day, and you could imagine what it was like to be Ricky Barnes, a former winner of the U.S. Amateur, at the moment. He was at a U.S. Open awards ceremony, and he was feeling like a winner. You have to applaud the guy, for having such a nice smile, and such good mental health.
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