Which brings us to the four-hole playoff. This time, Harrington went to the Noose with a two-shot lead and did play it as a par-5—rescue club off the tee, iron layup, wedge on and two-putt to win. HAL-lelujah!
And you know what I say? Good. Any guy that brings his three-year-old son into the press conference just so he can play with the trophy is solid with me. At a hotel afterward, it was getting toward 11 p.m., and Harrington, trophy in hand, was still getting his picture taken in the lobby with any sloshed fan that wanted it. After all, 60 years between Irish major champions is a thirst that deserves slaking.
As for Garc�a, he was probably somewhere whining like he did on the 18th green after he lost, complaining about having to wait in the fairway on the 72nd hole, bad breaks, sun in his ears, etc. "I still don't see anything I did wrong," he moaned. "I hit every shot in the playoff perfect."
Anyway, after a day when the Noose hanged more people than Judge Roy Bean, there could be only one person on earth who was happier than me, and that was Van de Velde, who had to be standing on his couch, screaming at the TV, "You zee? You zee?!?"
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RIFFS OF REILLY
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