Doing time at Bethpage; an intrepid sportswriter takes to the links to preview this year's U.S. Open

Insight on the News, June 10, 2002 by Barker Davis

When the Black Course at Bethpage State Park welcomes the 102nd U.S. Open from June 13-16, it will become the first daily-fee public facility to host golf's national championship. Some would claim that Pebble Beach broke the municipal barrier long ago. But those are the same folks who think making a tee time a year in advance and taking a $300 wallet-whipping constitutes daily-fee golf.

At Bethpage, located near Farmingdale, N.Y., any Joe Hack with $31 ($36 on weekends) and an unhealthy dose of determination can jack it up on A.W. Tillinghast's black beauty--the course always has a certain number of tee times for walk-ups. Currently, six times from 8 a.m. to 9 a.m. are available on this first-come, first-serve basis. Sounds simple and fittingly democratic, right? The process actually is autocratic and rather sadistic.

Tuesday, April 30. It's 11 a.m. when you roll into the parking lot at Bethpage, the day's plans casually constructed. You and your pal, Bill, will sign up to play 18 holes on one of Bethpage's four lesser courses the following day. Immediately upon entering the lot, you notice two cars already are backed into spots in the walk-up area. You pull into the third space. While considering your options, two cars park in slots four and five.

You and Bill take a minute to read the walk-up instructions posted on a huge sign. You learn that at a random time between 4 p.m. and 9 p.m., a supervisor will come by and distribute numbered bracelets, one to each car. Early the following morning, another supervisor will come by, check that you haven't tampered with your bracelet, and issue tee-time tickets to everyone in the car (maximum of four).

You also learn that you are not to leave the car unattended at any time, or a ranger could come around and bump you off the line. For your convenience, a porta-john is stationed discreetly behind a stand of pines just a lob wedge from the parking lot. Your status as the third car should guarantee you a tee time at around 8:30 the following morning, a mere 21 hours in your immobile future.

It took more than a dozen years of lobbying to convince the United States Golf Association (USGA) to agree to bring its prized event to the Black Course. According to Hank Gola, a golf writer for the New York Daily News, the primary spokesman for the course was Metropolitan Golf Association Executive Director Jay Mottola. In 1990, Mottola played golf in Florida with USGA Executive Director David Fay and convinced him to give the Black Course a closer look. Fay instantly fell for the traditional gem, built in 1935 with Work Projects Administration men and money.

Fay pushed the Black Course through the proper USGA channels, and "Open Doctor" Rees Jones was called in to bring the somewhat neglected layout up to Open standards. In the spirit of the "People's Open," Jones waived his own fee but spent nearly $4 million restoring the course, paying particular attention to the track's profusion of bunkers. The result is a sleek 7,398-yard, par-71 beast that will provide the longest test in Open history when Tiger Woods and company arrive to do battle.

Wednesday, May 1. It's 4:56 a.m., and you realize the man shining the flashlight through your car window has come to distribute tee-time tickets, provided your picture ID and bracelet match his clipboard vitals. Satisfied that everyone is properly manacled, he pauses for effect and drops a little bomb with a self-satisfied smug:

"We had quite a bit of rain last night, so the superintendent still hasn't decided whether or not he's going to open the Black Course today. Don't worry, though. If we can't get you out on the Black, we'll get you out on the Blue Course."

The Blue Course? Is this guy kidding? You didn't sleep in your car, waste 21 hours of your life and listen to an eternity of unfiltered Marty for no stinkin' Blue Course. You decide that if these jokers close the Black Course and trot you out to the Blue Course over a few raindrops, you're going to chuck dignity to the dogs with a silent but stern protest--you'll show them a wet course by emptying your bladder on the first tee.

Some three hours later, sanity has returned, along with the news that the Black Course is open. Joy. After muddling through enough processing to make Ellis Island proud, you secure an 8:17 a.m. tee time. The range is closed of course. Shagging balls wouldn't do you much good anyway. You wander over to the starter's shack at precisely 7:57 a.m. to check in and suffer through several more minutes of self-important bluster.

Above the first tee of the Black Course is a warning sign, explaining that the layout is for "highly skilled players." As finally you are called to the tee box, you revel in the surprise in store for these superserious folks. That surprise is Bill.

Now, you won't find a better man than Bill. Or a more ardent student of the game. But the fact is, Bill only caught the golf bug two months ago. He's been studying Ben Hogan's Five Modern Lessons and beating balls on the range like a madman, but he hasn't actually played on a real course--ever.