T.J.'s Take: Another year of memories from the Open

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One trip to the Open Championship makes for a lifetime of memories. Last week's trip to Royal Birkdale happened to be my 10th.

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Here's a list of things I'll remember most about my time at Royal Birkdale:

• The wind. It was ferocious. Trust me when I tell you that the moving pictures you see on television did the wind at Royal Birkdale no justice -- or the remarkable scores the players were able to post in those conditions, for that matter.

• Dedicated fans like you wouldn't believe. The majors always draw a monstrous crowd, but with all due respect to the three majors in the U.S., it's a wee bit different on this side of the pond.

Last Tuesday night I ventured into town with some friends to grab a couple of pints. A friendly man who was born and raised in Southport noticed our American accents and invited us to join him for a drink. We talked all kinds of sports, from soccer to football to baseball to basketball and back to golf.

The main item that stuck with me from that conversation was when my new friend stressed that for him, sports is a way of life -- not a business.

There was quick evidence of that when I left the media center on Thursday afternoon to grab a bite to eat. Bundled up in my raingear and shielded by my umbrella, I made my way over to the "Breakfast/Luncheon Pavilion." It basically consists of five or six concession stands with items ranging from the ever popular fish 'n chips (a personal favorite), pizza, burgers ... you get the idea.

Just in front of these concession counters was a large field filled with picnic tables, adjacent to the first tee.

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Wind? Rain? The apocalypse wouldn't stop these fans.

With the wind whipping and the rain driving sideways, it was quite the sight to see virtually every table occupied by people with a fresh beer or wine in one hand, and a plate of wet and soggy "chips" (French fries) in the other.

Most other places, you'd be looking for cover. But not at the Open Championship. These people were eating it up both figuratively and literally.

• For the third year in a row, my colleagues and I rented a house close by the course. In all, there were seven of us staying at this small palace. One of the occupants was Brian Katrek, whose name you might recognize from XM and the PGA TOUR Radio Network, as well as the FedEx Opening Shot on PGATOUR.COM.

Brian and I collaborated on the PGA TOUR Radio Network podcasts each day last week and I'm still wondering how we were able to knock those podcasts out so fast. Brian is a pro's pro, but he's also a comedian.

By my count, of the five podcasts we did together at the Open, only one required more than one take. If you remember, there were a number of obscure names near the top of the leaderboard after 54 holes. One of those names was England's Simon Wakefield, who was alone in fourth at the time.

The way the podcast works is this -- Brian gets the listener caught up on all the day's happenings and then tosses it over to me for a little insight. The focus of Saturday's podcast was heavy on Greg Norman. The "show" was going along just fine and Brian was being his usual professional self, tossing up underhand softballs for me to knock out of the park. But then, I was the victim of a vicious Katrek curveball.

"So, we have Greg Norman at the top, defending champion Padraig Harrington just two shots back and now I'm looking at a guy in fourth place who I have never heard of in my life and know nothing about," Katrek said. "T.J., tell me something about Simon Wakefield."

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T.J. Auclair is now the authority on British golfer Simon Wakefield, who, unfortunately, shot 9 over in his final round at Royal Birkdale to tie for 19th.

Thanks a lot, bro.

Luckily the podcast is taped, because we both busted out in laughter. I retreated back to my desk for a couple of minutes to gather a few facts and came back as the biggest expert on Simon Wakefield this side of his parents.

• It wasn't just the podcast. Katrek also has an impeccable impersonation of the voice of BBC lead golf announcer, Peter Alliss. In a deep British accent, Katrek had me and the rest of the house literally crying, giving Alliss-like commentary on everything from the golf to the food to the weather.

The impression was something like this (and if you've never heard of Alliss, imagine that thick accent while reading): "Oh dear ... It's such a shame. The lads have traveled all this way to Royal Birkdale and they've been greeted with nothing but wind and rain. Hopefully it won't put a damper on their gallivanting about town when the day's play is over ... Out to No. 14."

Maybe you just had to be there if you didn't find that funny. Or, maybe it's just because I gave you the G-rated version, which was far different from Katrek's actual shtick.

• There were several other moments we experienced and some just aren't fit for print. But I'll leave you with this last short story, which was one of my all-time Open Championship favorites:

On Saturday night, our group was in the living room of our beautiful rented home. The room is lovely -- white carpets, white couches, nice, big, high-def television.

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Take note Mark Spoor: Welsh golfer Bradley Dredge demonstrates the correct way to drink a pint of Guinness.

As we're congregating in there, we take turns making runs to the kitchen for pints of Guinness. All but one of us -- as I recall -- had a glass for our beer. Without naming names ... oh, who cares? PGATOUR.COM Coordinating Producer Mark Spoor cracked open his pint can while sitting on the couch.

Mark's outfit that night consisted of a black shirt and black shorts -- same color as the Guinness. Anyway, being that these Guinness pint cans have a draught system inside them -- pretty cool if you ask me -- you need to pour the beer into the glass as soon as the can opens, otherwise it overflows and goes all over the place.

Mark didn't have a glass. What he did have was a small lapse of common sense. As the beer overflowed, the rest of us yelled, "Mark! Let it spill on your shirt! Let it spill on your shirt!"

The thinking here was that the black Guinness would go better on Mark's black shirt than on the white couch and white carpet. Mark either didn't agree with us on that point, or maybe he's just colorblind. Either way, rather than let it spill on him, Mark held the Guinness at an arm's length, reminiscent of how a person would hold a puppy that decides instead of cuddling, it's time to urinate.

We laughed up a storm as spots of Guinness on the white carpet followed Mark out of the living room as he dashed into the kitchen for a towel.

Thankfully, the mess got cleaned, but it was one stunt Mr. Spoor won't be living down for a long time to come.