Monday Practice Round

2010 US Women’s Open

Oakmont Country Club

Oakmont, PA

It took me awhile, but I finally found caddie registration. After the nearly mile-long walk from the caddie parking lot onto the Oakmont Country Club property, and after asking nearly a half-dozen USGA volunteers (none of whom knew anything about caddie registration), at 7:00 A.M., I found the building (on the far corner of the practice area) got myself registered and bought the 2010 Oakmont yardage book (I bought the George version, by the way).

Being a registered caddie means a few important things. Primarily, of course, one gains the right to go inside the ropes and pretty much anywhere on the golf course one desires or needs, as long as it doesn’t involve going into the clubhouse. Of probably equal, if not more importance, is that a registered caddie gains the privilege of having a cell phone on his or her person at all times. Otherwise strictly forbidden on the grounds. And finally, as a registered caddie, one can wander into the back room of the caddie building, remove one’s shirt and stretch out for a good 20-minute massage by a licensed and registered massage therapist.

I didn’t do the massage.

Our practice round was scheduled to commence at 8:06 A.M., and for a few minutes prior, Juli went down to the practice tee and ran through a few clubs in her bag as a warm up. I think that’s when it really hit me. We are in The Show. I don’t really remember who else was on the range – I think former UW Husky Paige McKenzie was out there, dressed head to toe in black (poor woman, she must have been roasted by the end of her practice round), but I can’t remember anyone else. Some of the Koreans, perhaps, one of them such a walking, gaudy billboard it was kind of hard not to stare in disbelief.

Once we stepped onto the practice tee, there was a subtle change in the atmosphere. We were in the fishbowl. While there weren’t many spectators there at that time in the morning, those there were intent on finding the identity of the attractive South American player was hitting shots on the tee; in short order, they knew because the USGA official running the practice tee came to me to ask me “what’s your boss’ name?” and within moments of telling him, her name was on the plaque behind her hitting area. “Murcia Ortiz.” Oddly enough, they never, ever put up my name when I’m hitting on the practice tee, even when I’m at Newcastle paying the exorbitant fee to hit off grass at the back of the range.

There are other ways one can tell that this is The Show. On a table in front of the practice tee master’s tent were numerous baskets of absolutely pristine, fresh, pearls. Titleist ProV1x and Callaway something-or-other. Juli and I giggled over which basket of balls to use (she chose the Titleists, of course) and away we went. Juli was stroking the ball quite nicely on the range and seemed very happy. She should be. Qualifying for the United States Open Championship is an amazing accomplishment in and of itself.

On the first tee, we were once again reminded where we were, as a USGA volunteer announced each player before she teed off and the small gathering of spectators applauded each one of them. It was great for the three college players on the tee box, perhaps as a bit of preparation for what it will be like on Thursday when the assembled throng will create a bit more clatter at the announcements.

Our foursome was made up of Juli, Azahara Munoz (“Atha” – Juli’s teammate at ASU up until last season when Aza graduated) and her caddie Dan Wilson, Lizette Salas, a USC Trojan, and another college player from a small college in Florida somewhere, who was being looped by a local caddie. There were way more than eight of us out there, though. While Aza and Dan were their own self-contained group, our group included Juli’s parents, Nancy and Rafael, Juli’s sports psychologist, Sandra, and Missy Farr-Kaye, Assistant Head Coach at Arizona State. Lisette’s group also contained a couple of extra folks (including her parents) as did the other young woman’s group.

I made the crack to Missy that Juli’s entourage was larger than any of the others I’d seen on the course so far that morning, and that nearly included Michelle Wie’s entourage (caddie, David Leadbetter, manager, other hangers-on). Miraculously, however, we all managed to move through the day at a somewhat brisk pace, though after about 13 holes, Aza and Dan peeled off and headed in.

I haven’t mentioned the heat, yet, have I? Allow me to spend a few moments on that particular subject. Or, perhaps more appropriately, allow me to allude to impolite language. It was #%&!#?(!# hot. I think the final temperature was around 94 degrees and when coupled with the humidity, the course was an absolute sauna. I didn’t need the massage. What I needed were the bananas and liquids that I’d consumed while on the course. The following day I talked to Dan Wilson (Aza’s caddie) and he mentioned that he’d gone back to his hotel after our round to take a nap, but was unable to do so because he got cramps in his feet and back.

And I hear that there’s more of the same on the way.

Monday’s practice round was my first experience caddying in a major event. I’ve carried someone’s bag for other low-level events – a Sacramento city tournament, a Sacramento County women’s tournament, that sort of thing. Nothing could’ve prepared me for our round on Monday. Not only the heat, but the “heat” - if you know what I mean. It only takes a moment to realize that there is a fair amount of pressure acting as someone’s caddie in a major event. The math becomes just a little bit more difficult, the review one gives each shot is just a little more intense, the examination of the lie of the ball…you get the point. I was nervous. And I didn’t want to transmit those nerves to Juli.

It wasn’t just me that was nervous out there.

After our round, I went down to the caddie house to have some lunch (chicken alfredo with penne pasta) and more liquids and plopped down on a chair at a table nearby another table full of professional caddies working on their yardage books. Shortly after I sat down, another group of caddies entered the eating area and it wasn’t more than 15 seconds before an argument broke out between one of the caddies who’d just entered and one at the table. What they were arguing over was silly – or in the grand scheme of things and outside of a championship setting, it would seem like nothing. In the heat of the day, in the heat of the event, however, it was obvious that it was very important for one caddy to make a point to the other about how he wanted his player treated.

And that was on a Monday. The real thing hasn’t even started yet.

Juli played very well Monday. From my position on the bag and generously allowing two putts per green, I would calculate that tee to green she would’ve posted a 4 or 5 over 75-76, much better than a couple of her playing partners. Yes, we hit hand-wedge out of the famous Church Pews on 3 and the notion that one would two-putt all of these greens is highly generous – especially if the length of the first putt exceeds 20 feet. But practice rounds are not for scoring, they’re for exploring and for setting a tone. We hit extra balls in places, hit from tee positions where there weren’t tee markers, and chipped and putted greens from every conceivable angle in order to get a feel for the speed, slope and downright mean-spiritedness of the table-tops.

When I say “we” hit the shots, I mean the royal “we” of course. Juli hit the shots. I just stood around handing her golf balls and putting the cover back on her putter and trying not to get in anyone’s way.

Practice rounds are also for the spectators to get pretty danged close to the players. The galleries seem to love Juli. I’m sure she is enjoying the adulation, for she is very patient about signing autographs, even for the scalp-hunters who hang out behind the practice tee, obviously professional signature collectors. I feel compelled to stand close by, waiting and mostly watching, but also, since I’m not a small guy, not smiling and acting as a sort of presence. I wouldn’t want someone to say or do something to upset my player. It would really piss me off to see Juli become upset or hurt and that would be a very bad thing for the offender.

And now we’re back to the story I told about those other two caddies in the caddie house. Aren’t we?

David Tan