The best Father's Day ever - part II

Part of the fun at the U.S. Open was playing the golf games sponsored by Lexus and American Express.

Teddy and Grover did the driving test. I did the putt analyzer. That was easy. I missed.

Then I went to the swing analyzer, which the boys had already done. On the category "contact," my number was 137.

"The average pro's score is 133," the pro said.

I felt as if I'd won the U.S. Open.

We miscalculted that Phil and Bubba would arrive at No. 9 granstand at 9:30. They arrived at 9:00, same as us. The grandstand was packed. There was no space along the ropes. So we just stayed there, first in line, and listened intently.

We could tell by the roar that Phil had landed his tee shot on the par-3 on the green. Then Bubba hit the green to nice applause.

Michelson putted first. The crowd crescendoed "ooooooooh" then decrescendoes "aaaaaaaah." He missed, but the crowd loudly cheered his par putt.

Bubba had a shorter birdie putt, and we heard him make it.

Suddenly, there was a tsunami of people pouring down the grandstand steps. We got in.

Among others, we watched Jim Furyk, Miguel Angel Jimenez and Collin Montgomery. Furyk landed in the right front bunker and made bogey. Jimenez landed in the left front bunker and made bogey.

Montgomery made the lone birdie we witnessed all day. He landed his tee shot on a narrow point of green between the two bunkers and stopped the ball within eight feet.

Wherever we watched, the crowd cheered every made putt, including double and triple bogey. Some of the players looked at us sideways.

"They must think we're the dumbest fans or the best fans," I thought.

In his post-tourney interview, champ Jordan Spieth said Northwest fans are "Awesome."

We moved at about 12:30 to the 5th green, where I could park my powered scooter in the grandstand and where Tiger would arrive at about 2:30.

The green was crazy. Any ball that landed over the flag or on the right side of the green rolled down a slope to the right and left a first putt of 60 feet or more uphill.

Every player we saw hit that shot, including 15-year-old amateur Cole Hammer, made bogey or worse. They all were so worried about the ball coming back at them that they putted it 20-40 feet down the opposite slope.

We cheered when Ernie Else putted up the hill. It was the right stroke. The ball passed by the right of the hole and then stopped two feet left. An assured tap-in par.

Ernie acknowledged us. Then he missed the par putt, dropped his head and drooped his shoulders. We applauded and cheered anyway for the best effort we'd seen from that spot.

We finally saw Tiger at 2:10, left of our position and right of the 4th fairway, in some really tall grass. He went to the 5th tee at 3-over.

By then it seemed like half of the crowd was following Tiger, accompanied by Louis Oosthuizen and Ricky Fowler.

All three hit perfect tee shots, and all three landed their approaches on the left side of the green. Tiger was at 35 feet, Fowler at about 40, with Oosthuizen at about 20 feet.

Tiger stalked the putt, looking at it from all sides. A few people cried out quietly: "Com'n Tiger."

Then there was a complete hush. Tiger tapped the ball down the slope.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes" the crowd crescendoed. The ball slowed down about half way, and the crowd decrescendoed "Aaaaaah." Then it crossed a little hump and sped on directly at the hole. The cheering started again, then the ball turned left at the hole. "Aaaaaaah."

Tiger tapped in for par and walked off the green to probably the quietest crowd he'd ever heard in his life.

I was into the U.S. Open and fabulous Chambers Bay by then. I asked the boys if they'd mind finishing the day at the 18th and watch Tiger once more. I didn't have to ask twice.

We found a spot along the ropes, west of the grandstand, in line with Chambers Basement. This sand trap is so deep it has a ladder for the players.

Tiger arrived at about 7:30. All he needed was 290 yards, with the wind, to reach the 615-yard par-5 on his second shot. We turned left to see him swing but couldn't find the ball in the clouds. We turned toward the green to watch it land.

Then Teddy, who was listening to a broadcast, shouted: "He topped it! There it is!"

We all looked downward, a little left and watched the ball roll into Chambers Basement.

"Aaaaaaaah," we groaned.

Tiger was so (you know what) that he walked down the steps with his club in both hands, took a swing, hit the ball out of the hole about 50 yards, and we cheered.

"That's what he should have been doing all along," one of the fans along the rope said.

"Yeah," another said. "He thinks too much."

We walked away disappointed by Tiger's plus-10 score.

As went passed through the midway to catch the bus back to the car, a dour Tiger was being interviewed on a TV monitor as big as a 1950s drive-in movie screen.

"The good news is I kicked Ricky Fowler's (butt)," he said with a smile.

We all laughed. We had seen Ricky shoot part of his plus-11.

I was still excited as we walked to the car. I suggested to my sons that if I had the money I would stay for another day. They said the same.

When we got home at 1 a.m, the wives said, "You should have stayed."

Pat and Sabrina had watched the TV all day looking for us. Sabrina made three framed collages of pictures Teddy had been emailing to her. She presented them to us when we walked in.

Yes, this was my Best Father's Day ever.