Skip to main content

Point of View: A Wonderful Day

What a beautiful day it was not to be going to the U.S. Open
By
Jack Graves

As I walked out under the trees and breeze and sun with O’en last Thursday morning, I remarked to him on what a beautiful day it was not to be going to the U.S. Open. 

Soon after, we saw my brother-in-law (you could tell he was a golfer from his faded pink pants) advancing behind a troika of golden dogs, like Apollo in his chariot. He too, I learned, was happy to be alive on that fine day, and happy also not to be going to the U.S. Open. We’ll watch the final round on Sunday, from about 4 p.m. on.

Denied inside-the-ropes access yet again, I’ve been telling people that, when it comes to seeing anything, “it will be like trying to take a photo of the ‘Mona Lisa’ in the Louvre.”

The last time I was at the Shinnecock Hills Golf Club for a competition round, in 2004, I had to buy a periscope made by the Mickelson Group — for $65, I think it was, and later that year wrote it of­f as an unreimbursed professional expense. It’s in my trunk as I write, and, unless Duane Bock’s guy, Kevin Kisner, is in the running on Sunday, it will probably stay there.

Snippiness aside, the U.S.G.A. treated me fraternally when I was there for the first practice rounds on Monday with my son-in-law even though, as usual, I didn’t arrive with my papers in order. The photo on the press pass was a good likeness, though the tennis racket I’d been holding had been edited out.

Tennis, not golf, is my game. I don’t have the temperament to do anything that takes that long except sleep. As a fellow tennis player said to me the other day, “You make a bad shot in tennis and it’s over and done with — in golf you’ve got five to 10 minutes to stew over it as you walk along.”

Some guys I know play both sports, and it’s always fascinated me that they do. My hat’s off to them. My center doesn’t hold, I’m excitable, I interrupt, I jump to conclusions. That used to be on my voice mail, in fact: “Hi, this is Jack Graves, the sports editor. I’m either jumping to conclusions, running off my mouth, or batting the breeze. Please leave a message.”

Anyway, that day, as I remarked to O’en this morning, was a wonderful day to be alive — a day I spent with him rather than at the U.S. Open, a day rendered all the more joyous and secure in the knowledge that North Korea is no longer a nuclear threat.

 

Your support for The East Hampton Star helps us deliver the news, arts, and community information you need. Whether you are an online subscriber, get the paper in the mail, delivered to your door in Manhattan, or are just passing through, every reader counts. We value you for being part of The Star family.

Your subscription to The Star does more than get you great arts, news, sports, and outdoors stories. It makes everything we do possible.