re: A friend's recount of the Waste Management Open from 10 years ago..

Oh, and the final worthy notable is that the “Thunderbirds” count the number of people in attendance at the Waste Management Phoenix Open thusly: they multiply the number of cars in the lots by 3.2. So that’s how they figure out those astronomical numbers you hear on television—like over 110,000 on a Friday. But that makes sense: who would want to stand there with a clicker and count to 110,000? Your thumb would fall off.

...

When I came in this morning, I knew I wanted to follow Ian Poulter and Phil Mickelson during their back nine because of something Poulter tweeted last night: ”Do you think I should rock the pink pants tomorrow with Big Phil, I’m sure the crowd at 16 will have something to say...do I dare, hell yes”

The only problem was, they were teeing off this afternoon, and I didn’t want to sit and wait. So I decided to follow Justin Rose, Rich Beem, and Nick O’Hern, who went off first thing.

By the time Rose and company finished, I’d have time to eat lunch and do some writing before going out to join Poulterand Mickelson, who would be playing with Ryan Palmer today. By the time Poulter and company reach the 16th the crowd should be well lubricated.

I caught up with Rose’s group on the 7, and I recognized Rose’s strut immediately. His shoulders swivel with each step, giving his gait a distinctive and confident look. I’ve already perfected the walk myself, should the opportunity ever present itself to use it someday.

All three players were at even-par, and if Kenny Perry’s statements were correct yesterday—saying that 16-under would probably win this event—this group needs to throw up three or four birdies to stay in contention.

A family sat to my right, the parents in chairs drinking their “adult drinks” and their two young boys both on their knees peering out at the green just below the rope line. As soon as Rose’s caddie set the bag down near the family while Justin looked over his upcoming putt, the caddie reached into the bag and threw one ball to each young lad. He threw them rather hard, come to think about it. Those two boys are future Baseball Hall of Fame catchers.

O’Hern had put his tee shot in the greenside bunker, and he was unable to get the ball up and in, leading to a disappointing bogey. But hey: at least I found another lefty on the tour, which is the equivalent of a Where’s Waldo out here. Beem and Rose made par, and we moved to the 8.

Justin creamed his tee shot, and an older gentleman standing next to me started mumbling, “That’s better...that’s better, Justin Rose.”

Is this guy married to that witch with the poisonous apples in Snow White? Rose had heard him and stared back at us as he sheathed his driver. Hey, Justin? It wasn’t me. But Mr. Witch didn’t discriminate: he mumbled at each player as they teed off. “Perfect! Perfect Beem! Fine, O’Hern. That’s fine.” He enunciated each sentence with a forceful spit onto the ground. Was he a baseball coach?

On the 8th, Beem had left himself a chip from just off the back-left of the green. I stood looking right down his line, and he was aimed a good 10 feet left of the hole. From where I stood, the line to the hole looked pretty damn straight. Where are you going with this, Beem?

Beem hit a solid chip, right on his intended line, and the ball didn’t move an inch to the right. He waved his arm, clarifying for all of us that yes, he thought the ball would move way right, and no, he’s not stupid. Rose, on the other hand, rolled in a long birdie putt from the front of the green.

But that wasn’t the end of it: Rose birdied 9, 10, and 11 too.

On 13, Rose got home in two and two-putted for birdie. At that moment, I started thinking that if Rose took the first round lead, he would definitely be in the interview room. That meant I could finally ask him a question I had wanted to ask since Turning Stone last year. Just before his pre-shot routine, he used this drill where he extenuated a downward movement with his body into the ball, which looked more or less like he was squatting as he neared the impact position. I had seen him do this even as recently as Riviera, but so far today I hadn’t seen him do it. Was his swing finally where he felt it needed to be? Was this confidence translating into more birdies today? As I walked, I started reviewing the way I wanted to ask the question in my head, just in case Justin paid the reporters a visit this afternoon.

Beem three-putted the 13 , only further proving my theory about his difficulties with green reading today.

After checking out the solar-paneled waste compactor on the 14th tee, I saw Rose blister another drive, sending his ball a good 30-40 yards past both Beem and O’Hern. Rose would say later that he’s using a new driver this week, and I guess it’s working like a charm. After I walked behind the green to watch Rose’s approach shot, I lost the ball in the air. A moment later, the ball landed and stopped 10 feet from the pin.

I jumped.

“Holy crap!” Then I noticed the older woman in front of me. “Oh, sorry.”

She was laughing. “No, that was a perfect reaction.”

From there, I moved behind the green up onto another steep slope that forms a natural grandstand for patrons, many of whom were lounging on their chairs with a perfect view of the green. Two older gentlemen were sitting on “Waste Management” cardboard chairs – that I suppose they received at the front gate. I had to admire the fact that they were actually using them, and had unfolded them correctly, because I had seen so many patrons fight to unfold these things like they were origami balls or Chinese finger-traps. Nobody could figure out how to unfold them so that the cardboard would a) support them and b) actually be comfortable. I saw one lady fight with hers for 10 minutes before I started walking in a different direction. I wonder if she a) succeeded in figuring it out or b) jammed the thing up her arse and took her chances on comfort.

Rose missed his birdie, and I rolled back onto the grass in agony, unknowingly getting dead brown grass stuck on the back of my shirt and hat.