Stomach churn at the 17th

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PONTE VEDRA BEACH, Fla. -- There is a narrow strip of ground just above the railroad ties between water and fans that players traverse on their way to the 17th tee of the Stadium Course at TPC Sawgrass. The path snakes its way off the back left portion of the 16th green. The first priority is not to fall into the water.

John Maginnes

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Primer: All about the 17th

There is an intimacy and a sense of security not unlike walking up a hedge-lined walk to your front doorstep. You can't enjoy the beauty or the atmosphere, though, because you are walking the plank. You are about to knock on the door to have dinner with your new girlfriend's father. You know that he worked for the government and speaks nine languages fluently. She says that the scar on his neck is from an accident he had when he was a kid, but you're not so sure. You are afraid. Imagine making that walk and then realizing that you forgot to put clothes on after you had already rung the doorbell. That is what it feels like when you walk onto the 17th tee to hit to the island green.

What you can't tell from television is that the tee utilized tournament week pushes back into the gallery. You are surrounded on three sides by fans. You stand there pretending not to notice them, but they are close enough that you can hear their conversations. Unlike on most tees on TOUR where there is generally a wait, though, there is little conversation going on inside the ropes. Players huddle with their caddies and mumble about the wind. They keep their backs to the gallery and try to pretend like they are not the latest and most popular attraction at the zoo.

You avoid looking up as one of the guys in the group ahead of you tries to figure out how far the shot from the drop circle is going to play. You don't want to steal a glance and awaken the inevitable demons that have been stirring since you entered the back nine. As the anticipation grows, you try to ignore the crowd's reaction to the putts going in at the island green up ahead. You ask your caddy who tends the flower bed near that big tree on the tiny spot on land in the middle of the lake. Your caddy is from Philly and has absolutely no idea but you ask anyway. You both wonder about the cameraman stationed there each day. Where does he go to the bathroom?

Then the green clears and the stage you have been hiding from in plain sight is yours. When you grab the club, rarely more than a 9-iron, sometimes as little as a wedge, you attempt to take what the sports psychologists call a cleansing breath. But none of those turkeys have ever tried to take a breath with a gnawing rodent in their throat and the world watching.

You make a couple of practice swings and hope that you can feel the club in your hand. You tee the ball up, happy that your hand was steady enough to get it on the peg. It is not a hard swing. It is not a soft swing, either. Too little or too much spells disaster. Adrenaline must be swallowed, but of course you can't.

When contact is made the commentary starts immediately. The "experts" who have watched every shot that day from near the beverage tent behind the tee know immediately. The only one who knows before they do is you. You know when you have hit a bad shot. You know it, and as the ball sails helplessly, you are begging for the hand of God to nudge it safely to dry land. But fate is not that kind.

At the same time, if you have flushed that short iron on a string, you follow the ball with quick glances toward the speck of green, hoping that the distance is as good as the line and trajectory. The relief you feel when the ball stops on that gorgeous green carpet slightly more than a football field away is akin to seeing blue lights in your rearview mirror and then having them pass right by and claim another victim.

The only place a player feels more exposed than on the 17th tee is on that same green -- although by the time he gets there the damage, or the good work, has already been done. The 17th is the most exciting viewing in all of golf. For the players, though, it is a totally different experience. Even when you walk away from the hole with a 2 or a 3 you know that you have merely tip-toed past a sleeping monster. You may not be so lucky tomorrow.