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Byron Gone Gonzo 2: Golf Doesn't Care

 

I made an early arrival on day one of the Byron Nelson.  After months and weeks of preparation, the PGA tournament was on, players were already ripping drives, dropping putts, and doing their thing despite the spectacles.  Their's is a silly craft, requiring mental steadiness, technical swing execution, and emotional control.  If they get it right, they can cash some big checks, if they waver, others will cash the same big checks.  Golf doesn't care.

The TPC Craig Ranch in my hometown of McKinney, Texas was in ideal condition, despite the spectacles, the greens keeper here really knows how to make the grass happen, the wide fairways were spongy, the greens were true, the rough was rough.  The professionals were winning, low round on day one was 11 under from The South Korean Noh.  Several finished way under, low scores were had, a bird feast was underway, even the afternoon Texas winds didn't ruin the meal.  Most of the names weren't household--McCracken, McNealy, McNeill, McGirt, lots of Gee's--Griffin, Gerard, Gribble, Gainey, Garrigus, Gordon, Goya, Gomez, Grant, Garnett, Ghim, and a few that had made a name for themselves already--Day, Scheffler, Scott, Matsuyama, Kuchar, and my personal favorite--Schenk.  Overall, the South Korean players were showing up big with 3 in the top 15--Noh, Kim, Bae, Kang, and An were all 4 under or better.  Sweden's Richard Johnson shot high score of 80, but he hit a fantastic four iron from under a tree that lifted perfectly over another tree and landed on the 3rd green over 200 yards away.

Beyond the golf, the Byron is jammed with logos, booths, leaderboards, staff, camera crews, ropes, law enforcement, swag, and red pants.  The Salesmanship Club has been at it for 100 years, they strut around cooly, they stand with great posture, they have a glow, unapproachable, in charge, watching, scanning.  I saw one red pants dude pick up the tiniest piece of trash, forever gaining my admiration and respect, they were busy.  I had to bolt around 3 for my own afternoon tee time, but I'll be back for Friday.  The guys are digging in, the riff raff is on the outs, a mother of a weekend party is about to go down. 



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