Friday, September 24, 1999
Team USA putts itself into a serious deficit
at Ryder Cup
By Bill Lyon
Knight Ridder Newspapers
(KRT)
BROOKLINE, Mass. - America can't putt.
On the greens Friday the Yanks yanked it.
They lipped out.
They grazed more cups than a herd of cattle.
And, most of all, they left putt after putt after putt woefully,
abysmally short.
And you know what they say about leaving it short: Never up,
never in.
On the greens the Americans rarely gave the ball a chance.
Or, consequently, themselves.
There are a lot of reasons for leaving putts short - misreads,
faulty feel, lost touch - but usually the reason is nerves. The
gag factor.
And at the Ryder Cup, nerves and the management of them have
become important almost beyond reason. Alas, the Americans have
picked such a moment to come down with a serious case of the yips.
"The flat stick," moaned Tom Lehman.
In the opening two rounds of competition on Friday, in wind-kissed
sunshine, Team USA putted itself into a disheartening deficit.
The Americans are down 6-2. It is much worse than it looks. It
is not, however, irreversible.
The Americans, top-heavy favorites and prisoners now of their
own boasting, are under excruciating pressure to squelch the European
domination. But while their play was acceptable Friday, their
putting was weak and indecisive and unconfident.
And short, short, short.
Their consolation is that they're not dead yet, not with two
more days of play remaining. But the foreboding thought is that
their confidence has to be shaken - and their body language screams
that it is - and confidence is paramount in putting.
The Europeans, by the way, putted only OK. But then there were
times when they didn't have to putt at all. Every time you looked
around, it seemed, they were holing out from some unfathomable
place. Not just from a bunker, say. But off in the woods somewhere.
Or from the parking lot. Or the salad bar in the clubhouse dining
room.
And there was Jesper Parnivek, easily the player of the day,
holing out from the fairway, which isn't startling, but he did
it from 135 yards away, which is. With a 9-iron, for an eagle.
Not to be outdone, his playing partner, the very young and
very talented Spaniard, Sergio Garcia, contributed his own eagle.
He manufactured a neat little bump-and-run from half a football
field away for a fairly spectacular 3 on the 534-yard par-5 14th.
Of all the Americans to suffer on the putting surfaces, none
endured more self-inflicted agony than Phil Mickelson. In the
morning alternate-ball format, he and partner David Duval were
thumped by the Colin Montgomerie-Paul Lawrie pairing. In the afternoon
better-ball format, Mickelson missed two critical short putts
on the back nine.
He pulled a 4-footer wide left on the 16th with a truly sorry
stroke, and then at the 18th left a 6-footer below the hole with
a stroke that was mostly jab-and-hope.
"I don't know what to say," Mickelson sighed. "Low
and to the right, both of them. I needed to make them and I didn't."
His wife rushed to console him with an embrace as he made one
of those dead-man-walking trudges off the 18th green. He stayed
at the 18th to watch his teammates come in, and his wife buried
her head against his chest. It was a poignant scene of unconsolable
disappointment.
Mickelson and Jim Furyk combined to shoot 62 in the afternoon
round, which is 9-under. But Parnevik and Garcia shot their own
62. It was one of the more epic matches in recent Ryder Cup play.
Garcia, who only just got his driver's license, was irrepressible
and so aggressive that when he put a bunker shot within the shadow
of the pin, he smacked his club in disgust. He was peeved because
he didn't hole out. When you're 19, you expect to make everything.
"He might be 19 on his birth certificate, but he isn't
really," said Parnevik.
If you ever needed proof of how confounding and elusive the
game of golf is, look no farther than Duval. Three months ago,
he was the best player in the world. He was shooting a 59. Now,
he struggles to get the ball onto the green, let alone into the
cup.
At the 18th on Friday afternoon, desperately in need of a good
drive, he hit a tee ball in the general direction of Plymouth
Rock. Near the green, he chunked his chip. He looked absolutely
bewildered.
So, too, did Ben Crenshaw, the Team USA captain.
In eight matches his lads had produced one win and two ties.
"We just need to see a few more putts go in," he
said.
And then night fell.
So did the Americans. Hard.
(c) 1999, The Philadelphia Inquirer.
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