Maginnes recalls his unique experience at Bethpage in '02

text size

Lyons/Getty Images

John Maginnes played all four rounds at the U.S. Open when it was held at Bethpage Black in 2002.

The best players in the world are not immune to first tee jitters. Some days are worse than others. When you have played four or five weeks in a row, though, the butterflies don't flutter quite as fast on a Thursday morning.

Maginnes column archive
React in the FanZone
U.S. Open coverage

Heading into the 2002 U.S. Open at Bethpage Black, I had played five of the last six weeks so I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't nervous. I was also trying to convince myself that the U.S. Open was just another week, it wasn't cold and raining and I could hold my hands still long enough to tee up my ball.

In an effort to speed up play for the first two rounds the USGA decided to have players tee off Nos. 1 and 10 that year rather than have everyone go off the first like they had for the past century. It was a curious decision since the 10th tee is about as far from the clubhouse as you can get and still be in Bethpage State Park. That is where I found myself in the dawn hours that damp Thursday morning.

I found myself wet and stiff, as well. Going from the driving range to the shuttle and all the way out to the tee meant that I hadn't made a swing for a half an hour before I was called to hit my first shot. Not that it was going to make much difference -- in the practice rounds I had been unable to reach the 10th fairway with any of the dozen drives that I hit. Now as the flag went up on the U.S. Open proper there was a slight, damp breeze blowing back into our faces and chilling us to the bone. There was no way in hell, or on Long Island, that I was going to reach the 10th fairway.

The two kids that I was playing with didn't seem nearly as concerned as I was. One of them had just finished his junior year at Arizona and would go on to win the U.S. Amateur later that year. Ricky Barnes, a PGA TOUR rookie this year, wasn't going to have any trouble bombing his drive the 255 yards to the fairway. Neither was Lucas Glover, the recent Clemson graduate who hits drives that look like they should get FAA clearance. The fact that they had less body fat combined than I have in my chin(s) didn't make the situation any easier to bear.

When they called my name I managed to get the ball on the tee without mishap. As I made a couple of cleansing practice swings behind the ball my caddy, Barry Williams, asked from a safe distance, "What are you thinking?"

"I think that I am going to have to get on this thing to get it to the fairway," I said nervously.

"Try to hit it up the walkway," he said so that no one else could hear.

As he walked away he added, "nice and smooth," which I am pretty sure to this day was a joke. Amazingly, I made solid contact and my ball pushed through the heavy sea breeze right at the middle of the fairway. The people around the tee applauded; there was a chorus of "nice shot" and "good ball." As the ball started toward earth Barry started begging for it to "fade a little." In the air it was just left of the walkway carved through the thick rough for players to walk to the fairway.

His encouragement and my best effort were not enough. The ball was swallowed by the damp rye rough about five steps short of the fairway and a half step from the walkway. There was nothing to do from there but wedge it safely in the fairway and take my medicine. With more than a touch of irony as he walked off the first tee Barry said, "Nice drive," and he was right. Welcome to the U.S. Open at Bethpage Black, edition one.

The second edition promises to be kinder if not gentler. The USGA has generously brought the fairway at the 10h back toward the tee some 20 yards which won't make the hole easy, but it will make it playable. As a side note, I did make par on No. 10 that Friday. A perfect drive just short of the fairway. A lob wedge into the fairway and a 4-iron to 20 feet.

With all due respect to Winged Foot, Oakmont and Shinnecock, Bethpage was easily the hardest of the U.S. Open venues that I have played or covered. Not only was the rough the thickest I have ever seen before or since but even with all the rain by Sunday the greens were rolling somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 on the Stimpmeter. Bethpage Black is relentless from start to finish.

Some golf courses, like the Stadium at TPC Sawgrass, are visually intimidating. Others, like Winged Foot and Oakmont, are daunting by reputation and still more are simply spectacular like Pebble Beach. Bethpage Black is none of those. It is not beautiful or scenic. It is a bring-your-lunch-pail-and-go-to-work kind of place. It is a strap-on-the-gloves-and-take-your-licks golf course. Most players this week will get knocked out in the first round. By Friday night there will be a small group of players around par who have a chance to win the U.S. Open. The rest will be licking their wounds.

In 2002 I opened with a 79 and was one of the many victims. For whatever reason, though, the stars aligned for me on Friday and I was one of just four players to break 70. The 69 that I shot still left me way off the pace but I had earned a tee time on Saturday. Leaving the golf course late Friday night I realized that I was going to have to play the golf course two more times. I don't think I slept too well that night.

The U.S. Open is a challenge anywhere but when you add in the New York fans and the sense of ownership that they bring to this venue, it all comes together beautifully. On the 17th hole, a long par 3 on Sunday, I hit a beautiful 3-iron that just carried the bunker onto the front of the green. The hole location was in the middle on a ridge. It looked as if my ball might stop on the top level within 15 feet of the hole but as it teetered on a ridge the entire left grandstand rose to its collective feet. As my ball started over the crest and down the slope that would take it 60 feet away they sang in unison, "nah, nah, nah, nah ... hey, hey, hey....good-bye." They added a ballet-like wave en mass just for good measure.

All I could do was laugh and finally swallow the wings of the butterflies that had been trying to escape my stomach since Thursday morning.

John Maginnes is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. His views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.