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Black Magic Posted: Tuesday April 30, 2002 5:46 PM
Mostly, God bless the USGA, for finally bringing the U.S. Open to the people, to a real muni, golf's chophalla -- Bethpage Black on Long Island, N.Y. Pebble Beach? That ain't no muni! What muni that you know costs $350 to play? And let's face it, you'll probably never play Open courses like Winged Foot, Olympic or the Country Club, unless you suddenly grow a numeral after your name like, say, Gloucester Pennington IV. But if you're willing to sleep with the other members in your foursome, you can play Bethpage Black. For $31. Tomorrow. All you have to do is get in the "car line" at Bethpage. It's been going on for decades, and it's rougher than a sandpaper facial, but it's worth it. Here's what you do: Show up in the parking lot no sooner than 24 hours before tee-time tickets are handed out at 5 a.m. At least one of your group must be in the car at all times, and everybody has to be there when the tickets are distributed. No covering for buddies who couldn't get off work in time. People have tried standing a bag of clubs in the backseat, putting a windbreaker and a hat on it. Never flies. Once when Mickey Walsh, an operations supervisor of the course, was giving out the tickets to a carload, he noticed one guy was either dead or a mannequin. So Mickey said, "Sir, if you'd like to play the Black, please raise your hand." No hand, no ticket. The next week the same carload came back, dummy in tow. But this time, when Mickey asked, the dummy raised its hand! Turns out the guys had rigged a string to the dummy's arm. "You guys are too good," Mickey said with a laugh. Still didn't give them the fourth ticket. It's golf. It's camping. It's tail-waiting! People come in every kind of vehicle, even Winnebagos, and park in a designated area. One guy just stood in his parking place all night. He didn't own a car. Just him and his clubs, no lawn chair, no TV, no sleeping bag. Just stayed in his parking space all night. God bless him, too. Some guys try to park their car, go home for a decent night's sleep and then sneak back before five. That doesn't work either. They've come back to find their car wrapped in toilet paper. Except for mulligans, chops hate a cheat. Only 24 players in line make it onto the Black, and the six foursomes must tee off between 8 and 9 a.m. All other tee times, with the last one at 1 p.m., have to be reserved up to seven days in advance through a computerized phone system that's harder to crack than the Defense Department. When you finally get to the 1st tee, the drool trickling down your chin will tell you the wait was worth it. "We drove five hours, waited 11, played for five and then drove back in six," says Bob Ternes of Waynesboro, Pa. "And we'd do it again tomorrow." Could be because Bethpage Black is just about the most meticulously groomed grass this side of Cheech's glove compartment. It will be all you can do to keep from stripping to your Hanes and rolling around on the 1st tee box. But the Black is long, hard and has more bunkers than Kandahar. It may be the only course in the world with a huge sign on the 1st tee telling you to turn back: WARNING -- THE BLACK COURSE IS AN EXTREMELY DIFFICULT COURSE WHICH WE RECOMMEND ONLY FOR HIGHLY SKILLED GOLFERS. Of course, when it's finally time to stick the peg in, "you'll probably play like hell," says Frank Navarra, the starter. "They all do. They've been living in their car for the last 26 hours. They're stiff and sore, and they haven't slept. But, hey, they're on, right?" And during the Open next month, when Tiger shoots 63 on the Black, you'll have the inalienable right to sniff and say, "Big deal! Whaddya think he'd shoot if he had to spend the night in my damn Taurus?" Issue date: May 6, 2002 Don't miss The Life of Reilly (Total/SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, $22.95) -- a best-of compilation of Rick Reilly's columns and features, with a foreword written by Charles Barkley, available now at bookstores everywhere.
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