Almost famous

I'm not a big golf guy. I admit it. Golf is a thinking man's game, and I appreciate that as long as there's a good bit of action. But not when it's something like golf, which seems to have a ready-set-walk mentality.

Golf, however, is my Dad's game of choice, and while I was home for Father's Day this past weekend, Dad and I spent some quality time watching the U.S. Open together. He knows a lot about the game, knowledge he passes on to me so if nothing else, I can sound links-savvy in front of my friends.

For reasons alluded to by FLS in another post, the U.S. Open is my favorite major because of its steadfast commitment to barfing on the players' blouses. I take great pleasure in watching the world's most prolific golfers struggle to make ridiculous 10-over cuts. Torrey Pines may not have the rap sheet of, say, Bethpage Black, but it's a difficult course nonetheless.

And yet, the 2008 U.S. Open was about more than watching golf on a lazy weekend, more than making rich athletes look silly, more than helping me sound like I know I'm talking about. With one exciting Sunday finish and one exhilarating Monday playoff, it became a showcase for the two best breeds of athlete.

Tiger Woods is a transcendent talent who's won major after major in an effort to choke the parity out of golf for good. Eldrick is a tireless perfectionist, a cold-blooded killer who could look at the color of your tennis shoes and, if they were different from his, use it as motivation to beat the living hell out of you. People looking for the "next Michael Jordan" have been looking in the wrong sport. In terms of clutch play, work ethic and sheer will to dominate all opponents, the next Michael Jordan is currently playing golf.

Rocco Mediate is none of that. He's never won a major. He's never signed a $40 million endorsement deal. He's not particularly athletic (at least in a physical sense). No, Rocco's the guy trading friendly barbs with tournament galleries, the guy who could talk you to death at the bar while paying for most of the rounds. He plays for love of the game, and while accusing Tiger of not "loving" golf would be absolutely ludicrous, they certainly love it in different ways.

Rocco's got nothing to lose, and he played like it all weekend. Tiger's never lost a 54-hole lead at a major tournament, but that stat was on life support for much of the back nine Sunday and the entire playoff Monday. Like great clutch players do, Tiger shrugged off a knee injury and a one-stroke deficit on the 18th hole both days to come out on top, but watching someone as carefree as Rocco Mediate go toe-to-toe with someone as careful as Tiger Woods is something that can hook even a lukewarm golf viewer.

I wish I could have watched the final round with my Dad, because not only is he the reason I watch golf, he also instilled some of those Rocco and Tiger qualities in me. I'm not sure if that's what this post is ultimately about, but as Rocco and Tiger showed us, sometimes it's nice to not be so sure of the ending.