Sweet Sixteen? Not!

I have talked before about the mental aspect of Golf. Anyone who has gone out and played can attest to it. No where has this been more evident than at the Bridgestone Invitational last weekend. Mr. H. and Mr. W. squaring off on the final day of the tournament. Mr. H. has a three shot lead to start the day and is playing great golf. Then there is Mr. W. who has the reputation of making even the best players in the sport question their ability. Is that what happened? Did the officials enforcing the rules have an effect on them? I understand there are rules, and I get the fact that there are TV contracts that need to be honored. But saying that, what in the world were they thinking? It's championship day and they are the final pair. So we don't get to see the trophy presentations or hear why some thought they won and the other lost. Do we really care?

What you had here was a great ending to a great tournament that some would say was affected by the "Clock" Your kidding me right? Both players were playing good golf, one had come back from behind to catch the other, and then take the lead, only to lose it again a few holes later. Both had begun to struggle a bit and were finding it hard to stay in the short grass. I find it very encouraging when the professionals can't drive the ball straight. It gives me a glimmer of hope for my game! Of course the stakes are just a bit greater for them. And Sunday at Firestone was no exception. Two men, fighting the wind, the galleries, yes the clock, and the pressure of knowing (as always in this sport) that at any moment things can go bad!

Shortly after starting the back nine that is just what happened. Mr. H. seemed to be gaining momentum as Mr. W. had trouble off the tee. On the front nine Mr. W. was cruising, looking like he would run away with it. Not so fast. Now a glimmer of hope for Mr. H. Was someone finally going to turn the tables on Mr. Final round? He was out shooting him and had taken back the lead. Could it be happening? It is looking like it when they tee off on number sixteen. Both are reeling a bit but you just know in the back of your mind what can happen. Then it does, out of the rough comes the Tiger, out of the darkness, from 180 yards, over the water with an 8 iron? What? Who hits out of the long grass from that distance with a bleeping 8 iron? Nerves, not to mention Heuvos, of steel I tell you! No one else hits that shot, with that club. And what happens? Past the flag with some backspin. Back and to the right.......Back and to the right!

Inside a foot! Like a script from some Golf movie. This is where Mr. H. has to be thinking.... I'm up by one shot on the greatest player of all time. I am playing good golf, better than par. No bogeys, I can do this, I can win this thing. Just need one good shot. Just outside the bunker on the edge, 159 yards out, line it up, breath, and swiiing! The ball flies over the green into the nasty grass. Now is where the mental side of the game can creep into the brain. Now it's..... OK got the bad shot out of the way, 15-20 yards from the pin, flop shot ten feet from the pin, and roll down to the hole. Done this a million times. But wait, what if I catch it too clean, I'll take a swim. If I compensate to much, I won't get on the green. What to do? What to do? Concentrate.... never mind the millions watching..... never mind the guy in the red shirt standing over there just waiting to tap in that pitiful 10 inch shot.... never mind the official pushing us to hurry.... and don't for one minute think about the tournament being on the line!

The flop was just that. Caught too much ball and up it went, past the flag and SPLASH!! The gallery and the millions watching all gasped at once! What just happened? Now the brain must switch gears. No longer there is the confidence that had been with him all day, just minutes ago, bogey free golf for 15 holes on the last day. Now panic is lurking, making every decision tougher. Club selection, drop location, all still left to be decided. Right here, no back, no back some more to 100 yards or so. I can put it close from here? Yeah that's what I'll do. Don't look at the gallery, don't show any signs of weakness, just hit the ball! But there it is again, out of the corner of his eye, that red shirt, looking sixty feet tall! Stop, just hit the ball..... A nice easy wedge shot.... but the water, it seems much larger now, and the green is so small, what the? Doubt, urgency, embarrassment, how the tables had turned!

Over the green once more, not so far as the first time, but in the rough none the less. All turns quiet. You can hear the flag whipping in the wind, which is still sitting in the cup waiting for Mr. H. to find the green. At last it ends. Just a few more shots and in! The dreaded Snowman, (8). Mr. W. who has had a sandwich, a bottle of his own liquid refreshment, and has had time for a massage, ala AK at the open championship, steps up and taps in. What a difference a hole makes. From leading by one to down by three and tied for second. So many questions will be asked. Was it clock management that got in his head? Was it the immense pressure of the moment? Or was it his opponent who on the last day of a tournament can melt the ice in the veins of the best this sport has to offer? I am sure all of these will be fodder for those whose job is to ask. Now they will be paired together in the first round of the PGA tournament this Thursday. Makes you wonder, what they will talk about? What questions will be asked of them prior to their tee times? What will they be thinking as they finish the 15th hole on this day? One thing for sure in my mind is that when Mr. H. heads for the tee he will be saying to himself.... "Sweet Sixteen" Not! BigBlogAlphaDog