I continued
to not bet this weekend. I thought that I was going to find it very difficult
for some time. Given that Matthew Fitzpatrick, someone I like very much was
playing well, and Kuchar, who I tipped on Friday (Wednesday really) was looking
fairly imperious, I was starting to get quite annoyed. Day was also throwing
his chances away left, right but not really centre, and this would have sent me
spiralling around in disappointment. Thankfully I am empathetic enough to be
able to put myself in the shoes that I may have been in, had I had a bet.
I would not
have backed Fitzpatrick. As much as I love the 21 year old Sheffieldian, he
would not have topped my list. Since the Masters his form has read woefully,
and he missed the cut in Sweden last year. I
fancied Westwood a bit, but the way he left me feeling the week before, I
wouldn’t have gone near him. I don’t even know who I would have backed in the
end, so, you know, whatever.
I would,
however have picked Kuchar, and Jason Day at the Memorial. It’s possible I
would have had sizeable lumps on each of them, given their short prices at the
beginning of the tournament. Both were well positioned after the first day. Kuch
performed on day two and Day didn’t. Day three was woeful with little ground
made by anyone, and then a weather delay (booooore) with Day finishing just
before with a shocking double bogey, and Kuch finishing after the delay with a
bogey, bringing the field closer together.
There were
twenty something players within five shots of the lead, and as coverage started
on Sunday, all hell was set to break loose. Mickelson was coming through the
field, as was Mcilroy. Day unfortunately decided to go backwards. Feeling as
though I had had a bet, this started to make me feel prickly. Coupled with the
poor quality of the coverage, I started to feel a bit agitated. It was
suggested that if I find the coverage frustrating that I don’t watch it, which
was met with a burning look. Kuchar then started to cruise. He was sharing the
lead with three others at one point, and one by one they all fell apart. DJ bottled in classic style and his putting
started to desert him again. This was somewhat surprising as I had only
recently remarked to father that I felt this could finally be DJ’s week. The US
Open beckons and it is time for a confidence boost, DJ choked last year and
needs to get over that. Perhaps next week will be his. Gary Woodland’s short
game wasn’t up to the pressure, and he got wooden over everything, and I
imagine he’d have rather been a tree. Then Kuch dropped one, and was back in a
tie for 1st, with William Mcgirt. Mcgirt has never won the PGA, or
the Web.com, and should not have provided any threat to 7 time winner, course
expert Kuchar.
Then there
was another buggering weather delay. The rules say that the players have to
come off the course for at least an hour before the situation can be assessed
again, which meant that I was resigned to reflecting on my decision to not bet
this week. And to the washing up. And to getting hungry. And general boredom. I
was starting to regret not having a bet on Kuchar. I would currently be
counting my many millions, and wondering how to correctly thank the man for the
winnings. Perhaps I would write to him. He doesn’t appear to have twitter,
which means that a more heartfelt display of affection would be necessary. I
have previously mused on commissioning flags to celebrate, but this wouldn’t be
enough for Kuchar. I would have to open a wing of a hospital, and name it in
his honour. Realistically I would have hardly been able to afford a memorial
(see what I did there) bench on the local golf course, but one can dream. Thai
food on the way, crockery drying on the rack, the golf resumed.
For some
reason, even though this happens every year, the quality of the coverage when
resuming from a weather delay is the wrong side of good. It’s unprecedentedly
disjointed. No one seems to have any clue about what’s going on, and before I
knew it, Kuchar was taking his fourth from the middle of the fairway. He would
have to knock this in to make par. He did not. He made double. Form nowhere. He
was in the fairway bunker off the tee. No problem. Experienced pros know to
take their medicine, get out of the bunker and hope to make par, but settle for
bogey. Kuch’s first did not make it out of the bunker, and now it seemed my
heart was tied to his fate. He would be ok however, as there was a par 5 next,
which he would pick apart with precision tee to green action and solid putting.
Laying up in a strong position, Kuch looked set to attack the final par 5. He
knocked it over the back. The wind was well up and there was nothing that could
have been done about it. He then knifed the shot out of the rough, over to the
other side of the green.
This was not
good. This is something that I am disappointed about when I do, so I cannot
imagine how he had felt. Kuch was choking. I was choking. A beansprout had
become stuck in my throat, which is why my eyes were watering. Kuch then made
bogey, to cement his fate. I was crushed. How could he have come so close so
many times recently, have a grip on the title, and let it slip? Has he really
lost his killer instinct, or is he simply saving it? I hope for the latter, but
err to the former. Kuch is a world class act, and even though 7 wins on the PGA
is a lot, and more than 80 top ten finishes if phenomenal, there is a note of
under-performance in his history. He is in the midst of some of the best form
anyone has ever heard of, but this could be the end of it. Circumstances outside
of his control could be blamed for his failure to win before this week, but now
there is no doubt that it was in his grasp, and he let it go. I then decided to
be quite smug about not having had a bet this week. Had I backed Kuch, and had
he just done that, I would have found the golf course in which Kuchar’s bench
would have been, and would have razed it to the ground. I would have turned it
in to wasteland. Towering infernos would have been spotted from the
International Space Station, and flights all around the globe would have been
grounded as my wrath was felt throughout the stratosphere. I would have been in
a murderous rage, which would likely not have subsided any time shortly. When
Curran and Mcgirt started the play off, I would have opted for Curran. He has
shown some form in recent weeks, whereas Mcgirt has not been on my radar. I
would have used excessive force and lumped impressively on the 29 year old with
all my worth. This would have led to further losses and further rage.
The UN would
have had to call an emergency peace committee to stop me, and even then I would
not have been happy. Had I bet this week, I think I would be typing this in my
own head, in a strait jacket and a padded cell, whilst the butterflies
fluttered through my eyes, and I burnt them to crisps with my fiery hatred.
Thankfully, a promise made not to bet has allowed me to keep my somewhat tenuous
grip on sanity, for this week at least. Luckily, Kuchar is not out next week.
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