What the talking heads talk about on the first day of the U.S. Open when they’re not talking about players playing because players aren’t playing because of the weather:
They talk about the golf course (on which nobody much is playing). They say the obvious play on the 519-yard par-4 15th is to hit it into the hillock left of the fairway about 300 yards out. Obviously. Five hundred nineteen yards. Par four.
They talk about the soaking rain, which softened the greens. They still ran fast, but they were “receptive” to good iron shots today that might have run off the back in practice rounds the previous couple days. Ask Andrew Landry, in between the rain delays.
They say stuff like this: “Does the swing make the shot or does the shot make the swing? I think the shot makes the swing. Bryson (DeChambeau) is an example of that.”
What people watching the U.S. Open on their television sets do when the U.S. Open isn’t on television because of the weather:
They look up stuff, like an explanation from the United States Golf Association why a solo round can’t be counted for handicap purposes. This, here, is the explanation, from the USGA’s Website: “Primarily, to support a key tenet of the USGA Handicap System: peer review. Knowing golfers rely on the integrity of the system to produce an accurate view of playing ability, this change helps golfers form a better basis to support or dispute scores that have been posted to a player’s scoring record.” As if we’d cheat.
They look up Andrew Landry, the unlikely leader. According to the crack Grey Goatee Research Group, he’s 28, 5-foot-7, ranked 624th in the world, a Texan; he was sticking it close to pins when he was on the course.
They wield their remote to watch “Preacher” on their television sets because their spouse advises they’d better catch up or the spouse will watch Episode 4 with or without them whether or not they saw Episodes 1, 2 or 3.
They read the “What happened to Tiger Woods?”piece in Sports Illustrated that they fully intended to read months ago. They learn nothing they don’t already think they know.
They go play golf, leaving the Open in the hands of the talking heads, if it’s not raining where they live, which would be someplace other than Oakmont, Pa., where it’s raining.