Dan's Papers - June 27, 2008 - A Big Crowd At The Bar At Bobby Van's

Did you happen to see on television the final round of the U. S. Open last Monday? I was working at the office proofreading the paper around 5:30 when the word went around that some golfer named Rocco Mediate, who is ranked maybe 2,112 in the world, had come up from nowhere and was just six holes away from beating the greatest golfer in the world, Tiger Woods, for the championship.

"He's a stroke ahead," somebody said.

One of the big things still waiting to be invented in America is the ability to drop what you are doing at work, where there are no TVs, and just gather around some other device somewhere in the building for 20 minutes or so to see history-in-the-making going on somewhere in the world.

I know, I know, this is not history in the making. But what was happening at that moment was one of those great sports moments that comes along maybe twice a year. It might have been the last inning of the seventh game of the World Series, with the score tied. Or it could be a third string quarterback being called in after the first two get injured in the Super Bowl. You wished you had been there. Or at least seen it.

Well, I wanted to see this.

It takes about 10 minutes for a pro to play one hole of golf. Ten times six holes meant an hour. If I wanted to be somewhere to see the last hole, I'd have to get to a tavern with a TV over a bar in half an hour.

I still had work to do, but I wasn't getting much done.

"He's still ahead," my source told me. "Now it's five holes to go."

"How do you know this?"

He was a graphic artist laying out ads on his computer. In the corner, there was a scorecard with some writing under it. The writing would change with each shot. "Mediate hits his drive down the center," it would read.

I stood behind him looking over his shoulder. "You sure we can't get video of this?" I asked. We tried ESPN. We tried Golf Magazine. Once again I was learning this had not been invented yet.

I did a little more work, and then, when I learned that there were just two holes to go and this guy Mediate was still ahead, I ran out of the door and jogged down the street to Bobby Van's. There was a huge crowd there at the bar, some sitting, some standing. Everybody was staring upward at God, which was a TV high up on the wall behind the bartender. Gus from the Candy Kitchen next door was there. There were a few other locals I knew. There were a lot of other people I didn't know. The place was packed.

The picture on the screen was of this guy Mediate, walking down the fairway. It was worse than I thought. He was overweight, in his mid-40s, very Italian looking. He looked like somebody who owned a restaurant in Queens and played golf on Sundays. Maybe he did own a restaurant in Queens and play golf on Sundays. He was everyman.

The picture switched to Woods, handsome and athletic, tall and lean, the greatest golfer of all time, also walking up the fairway to the green. We all know what he looks like.

On the green, Mediate was 20 feet from the hole and Woods was six feet from the hole. They were both there in two. It was the 18th hole and Mediate was still ahead by one. If he sank it, he would win. But it was a very long putt. He missed. The crowd in Bobby Van's groaned. The crowd in every sports bar in America groaned. Then Woods sank his putt. He was down in three and was now tied with Mediate, setting up a sudden-death playoff.

Or was he? Mediate still had a two-foot putt to sink. If he missed it, Woods would win and that would be it. It was a short putt. Very easy. But Mediate lined it up, tapped it, and for a moment it looked like he might blow it by the right, but at the last moment, it went in. There'd be a sudden-death. First player to win a hole would win.

It occurred to me at that moment that what I had seen was Mediate choking. I hoped it wasn't true. But I did mention it to a guy standing next to me there in the back row at the bar. He nodded.

On the next tee, Woods, with that wonderful whipping stroke of his, hit his drive about 325 yards down the right side of the fairway. He'd have a shot to the green.

And that brought this to the crux of the matter. This was, indeed, the very first time I had a chance to see Mediate actually hit a long ball off a tee. I was astonished. You know how people who do not play the game well sometimes have an awkward or odd swing? Well, so does Mediate. It consists of him standing up to the ball, and then constantly rocking the clubhead back and forth, back and forth, pendulum fashion, each time taking it a little bit back further until finally, he takes it way back and then whacks it. Works for him.

But not this time. You didn't see the emotional results of this on Mediate's face, like you might with some other golfer who expected a great deal of himself. It was more like Mediate was expecting it. The ball went up, drifted off to the left, way off to the left, and then landed in a far corner of a sandtrap.

From that moment on, it was sort of over. Woods hit his second shot to within 10 feet of the cup. Mediate hit his second shot into the crowd on the left, and it wound up against a wooden retaining wall.

And that was all she wrote. This was duffer golf. For 72 holes over four days, Mediate had played even with the greatest golfer in the world. Oh, if he could only have done that for 73, and then maybe just a little better for that 73rd. But he didn't.