"LET THE RAT KILLING BEGIN"

By Doug McAllister

Now that the 2010 U.S. Open is on the books, let's, as my friend Rooster Cogburn would say, "Let the rat killing begin!"

As it pertains to golf, now is the time everyone — whether informed or not — starts to dissect what happened. It wasn't enough to witness the event on television or in person or through informed new stories. Now we have to endure writers from every station taking the thing apart from every possible angle and, then, telling us what really happened!

For example, a rather well-known golf blogger has begun a crusade against commentator Johnny Miller regarding his astute observations during the event. I won't dignify the blog with a repetition of allegations here. Suffice it to say that Miller said absolutely nothing about which to write negatively. End of statement!

And then there is the inevitable evaluation about Tiger's supposed breakdown. Why is it so difficult to simply look at Tiger as just another golfer and recognize that he might have an off day or be subject to nerves just like any other golfer — whether professional or not?

Phil's performance will be scrutinized ad nauseam, as will Ernie's.

And very few will give Graeme McDowell the credit he deserves.

Just like the galleries running to the next hole at last week's U.S Open, golf writers will also frantically race to the next venue: The Open Championship at St. Andrews. The speculation will begin about whether Tiger can tear that great course apart — just like he supposedly did the last time he won an Open there.

Kinda makes you sick doesn't it?

Once again, and this is a hobby horse that I will continue to frantically ride, golf is far larger and grander than any one golfer and whether Tiger does this or that or something else is entirely immaterial to the game. Yep. I said it. The game is light years beyond the outcome of the latest tournament or the current performance of today's "greatest golfer." The game is the frantic struggle of the teen who, just taking up the game, is dealing with the demons of the golf that she is freshly discovering. The game is the sixty year old, struggling with arthritic hands, wondering whether larger grips might help or Aleve (as propounded by several touring professionals) or whether the beloved game is slipping from those aching hands for good. The game is the solitary golfer who, just wanting some prime solitude, slips onto the Country Club at dusk, knowing that two, maybe three holes will be all that he will get and knowing that that's enough for today.

In other words, golf, in its purity, was never about the public spectacle. Sadly, that just the grubby, commercialized face that we have been conditioned to see. It has always been about the personal battle of every individual golfer on the globe to shave just one more stroke from the card.

So whether Tiger imploded or Phil fell apart or Ernie bounced back and forth like a...you get the picture! Because none of these outcomes or how they happened will affect your personal golf battle in the least.

Remember that! And continue teeing them up and working overtime to hit them — hopefully long and straight!