MAMARONECK, NEW YORK | Tony from Queens should be here.
Jimmy from the Bronx, too.
And Carmine, Jenny and the guys from Wall Street who are on the Winged Foot waiting list, which is reportedly years long, all of them are missed at this U.S. Open, which began too quietly this morning with Brandon Wu’s tee shot at 6:50 a.m.
U.S. Opens are always special in a bootcamp kind of way. But they’re especially good in New York because, well, it’s New York.
Start spreading the news and all that comes with playing the national championship close enough to smell the pizza slices cooking and hear the cabbies honking.
It’s all missing this year.
No one to pick on Sergio. No one to “booyah” Bryson DeChambeau’s tee shots. No one to bellow their love for Tigah.
And Phil, he has to go alone this time, all pasta and no sauce.
It’s a necessary sacrifice, obviously, and a familiar one as professional golf rolls into its fourth pandemic-impacted month. But it changes the tone of this U.S. Open. Everyone in the field has gotten accustomed to every day looking like a Monday but it still changes the championship.
It’s strange to walk around Winged Foot, understanding what’s at stake, while feeling like it’s almost unfinished.
For the fortunate few inside the USGA’s U.S. Open bubble, it’s like being part of a party but there’s no music. Where thousands would typically be swarming, crowding the stone paths around the clubhouse and leaning on the ropes that still frame the practice areas and holes, it’s essentially empty.
Remember the giant hospitality structure Mickelson bounced his fateful tee shot off of on the 18th hole here in 2006? It’s not there. Hit the same tee shot this year and Mickelson could play his second up the left side of the trees in an adjacent fairway on the East Course and try to get up and down for par. If only…
The flower beds aren’t getting trampled. The clubhouse lunchroom is largely vacant. And if you’re looking for a proper pretzel, you may have to go into Manhattan because there are no concession stands at Winged Foot this week.
That doesn’t make this U.S. Open any different than the Charles Schwab Challenge or the Travelers Championship or the PGA Championship played in San Francisco last month. What makes it different is New York being quiet.
“When I think of the fans in New York I just think of the volume, the noise is louder than anywhere,” Webb Simpson said. “Boston tries to compete a little bit, but here it’s just louder. I think people aren’t afraid to kind of speak their mind when you hit a bad shot and that’s part of it.”
New Yorkers speaking their minds?
Really?
It’s part of the, uh, charm of the place.
Remember when the fans loudly counted each time García regripped his club before hitting a shot at the 2002 U.S. Open at Bethpage Black? It was as amusing as it was annoying.
That same week, Golf Digest distributed 25,000 campaign buttons with a slogan imploring New Yawkers to “Be Nice To Monty,” a gesture welcomed by frequent heckling magnet Colin Montgomerie.
When Nick Faldo was playing a U.S. Open here, a fan held up a sign that read “Loved You In Star Wars,” a reference to Faldo’s resemblance to Harrison Ford.
They chanted “Give Phil water” when Mickelson reached the sun-baked seventh green at Shinnecock Hills that had become unplayable in the 2004 U.S. Open. It was like Mickelson had his own raspy cheering section.
Whether it’s FedEx Cup playoff events or the PGA Championship on Long Island last spring, where fans split ranks between Brooks Koepka and Dustin Johnson, tournament golf here comes with its own unique soundtrack. At least, it always has before.
Does it matter that no spectators are allowed at Winged Foot?
It does.
Rory McIlroy has been up front about his struggles adjusting to playing without galleries. It’s probably like actors going through a dress rehearsal then having the curtain go up in front of a live audience.
Part of winning a major championship is coping with all that comes with it. That includes the people watching from grandstands and hillsides, squatting in the front row and standing on tiptoes five deep but just a few yards from where someone is hitting a shot that might impact golf’s history.
It can be claustrophobic and suffocating if they let it. It’s a learned skill, like chipping and putting, but it can’t be practiced alone.
Rory McIlroy has been up front about his struggles adjusting to playing without galleries. It’s probably like actors going through a dress rehearsal then having the curtain go up in front of a live audience.
It’s just different.
This U.S. Open is set up to be a beauty. Winged Foot was created for events like this as the membership knows. Mike Davis, chief executive officer of the USGA, said Wednesday that his group looks for ways to make the course easier, not harder, which says all that needs to be said about what awaits.
The players have said all the right things about the rough, the greens and everything in between but that was before they were handed a pencil, a scorecard and the toughest test of this strange golf year.
This U.S. Open has everything it needs to be special.
Except Tony, Jenny, Carmine and their friends.