Dustin Johnson is a happy man. The cancellation of today's final round of the AT&T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am gave Johnson a three-round win, his second on the PGA Tour.
My guess is the only people at Pebble whose happiness level ranks up there with Johnson's are the press,
who were spared the stresses and aggravations of a Monday finish like the one that took place at the 2000 AT&T.
In that year's weather-delayed event, Matt Gogel led on Monday morning by one shot over Vijay Singh and by five over Tiger Woods, who was going for his sixth consecutive win. As the golf writer for the Orlando Sentinel, I was chronicling the historic run by our biggest hometown golfer. His streak had gotten me to Hawaii and now Pebble, so I wasn't complaining too much about the Monday finish, a phrase that usually strikes the same chord in golf writers as do the words "emergency dental procedure."
Originally, I had planned on spending Monday in San Francisco, where my sister lived, before flying out Tuesday morning. The weather precipitated a change of plans, but after my initial disappointment, I was looking ahead to salvaging part of the day, especially after Gogel built a seven-stroke lead over Tiger with seven holes remaining. I was already planning a tidily written story about the end of the streak, and imagined myself in San Francisco in time for a relaxing dinner.
Apparently, I had forgotten to inform Gogel and Tiger of my plans. Gogel made a couple of bogeys, Tiger a couple of birdies, and as he stood over his second shot on the 15th hole, Tiger was four shots back.
I was having lunch with Alan Shipnuck of Sports Illustrated, Craig Bestrom of the San Jose Mercury News and T.R. Reinman of the San Diego Union-Tribune while watching on the monitor. We saw Tiger's wedge shot land to the right of the flagstick before spinning into the hole. When they say there's no cheering in the press room, they're right. There was grim silence as we all got up—meal unfinished—and headed for our laptops. At that point, none of us had any doubts Tiger would win, and the stories we had concocted in our heads were useless. Instead, we were all facing the same long day of chronicling yet another incredible feat by Tiger.
I not only had to write the game story, but had to put the whole thing in perspective for A1, the newspaper's front page. Later, I found out that there was an outcry back in Orlando because the CBS affiliate had not shown the tournament (opting for the usual fare of soap operas), which meant my front-page article carried added significance, a fact that I was glad not to have known at the time because I no doubt would have choked the way I did during my first chance at an A1 article—Payne Stewart's plane accident.
I finally got to my sister's at nearly midnight and instead of flying home, I spent the next day in her apartment writing a three-part feature on Tiger before heading down to Torrey Pines for the next event, where a media circus of hundreds chasing Tiger's streak descended on a space meant for a couple dozen.
Mercifully, Phil Mickelson won, and I was finally able to go home. But whenever I hear about a Monday finish, I can't help but flash to one of the longest days of my life.
