Does anybody know what the heck is going on out there in the drizzle and the gloom and the mud that’s sloshing around like gravy? Certainly not Ian Poulter (on the cut mark at +4), unwrapping five new 3-woods in the locker room before heading to the range.
He broke his favourite 3-wood in practice. “I don’t know what day it is. Or how long I’ve been here. Or how many rounds I’ve got left to play. Or anything,” Poulter said laughing. “It’s been carnage this week. You just have to laugh, really, and get on with it. It is what it is. You just gotta suck it up.” Just as he said that, the voice of Lee Westwood (-2) came from behind a locker. “You’ve been living in the States for too long, Poults,” Westwood said, poking fun at his Ryder Cup teammate’s Americanisms.
Downstairs, the corridor that runs through the clubhouse was crammed with caddies waiting to see if their man had made the cut, or stuffing golf clubs into travel bags for those that hadn’t. A glum Boo Weekley (+11) was trudging off out of the exit carrying his own bag.
“Pardon me, gents,” he drawled, polite as always, as he shuffled on his way, closely followed by Jeev Milka Singh, who was still as jovial as ever, despite finishing 11-over par, saying cheerio as he wandered off.
Padraig Harrington’s manager was re-arranging the flight home for Harrington (+12) and his family, but struggling to get his Blackberry to work (wheel trouble). “Dealing with the uncertainties has been the biggest headache this week,” he said. “You know, holding flights and constantly re-arranging plans.”
A cheery Sergio Garcia (even par) was engaged in a spot of football banter (he’s a Real Madrid fan) with a group of caddies that included Billy Foster (carrying for Westwood) and Mike ‘Fluff’ Cowan (bagman for Jim Furyk, +1). “We’ll see who’ll win the Champions’ League next year,” Garcia bragged, “now that we’ve got Kaka and Ronaldo.”
Paul Casey’s caddie, Craig Donnelly, meanwhile, was clearly looking forward to getting the hell outta town after what has been a disastrous championship for the highly fancied Casey (+10).
“It’s been a long, frustrating waiting game this week,” Donnelly said. “Our car-parking area was changed over night. And no one told us. Then we had to queue up with the public. Then they changed our tee times. And we got the wrong side of the draw with the weather. But that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Hey, we got the right side of the draw when Paul won in Houston. See you at the Open,” he said.
Out in the players’ car park, Vijay Singh was ambling along with his caddie, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers (his own, not his caddies’). Judging by the pained expression on his face, he was sucking on what could only have been lemons. Back in the media centre, I checked Singh’s score just to discover the cause of his misery and by how many shots he had missed the cut.
But wait, Singh has actually made the cut on the mark at +4. Ah, wait a second – a bogey, bogey finish. That’s going to ruin his dinner. Two more rounds in the swamp, then, with no chance to win. Just what Singh would have wanted.