Daily Log - Monday
MONDAY
8:30 AM
I have a funny feeling. I know what it is, but haven’t felt it since the first day of school in eighth grade. First Day Jitters would be a light way to put it.
It’s more like “First Day Crippling-Anxiety-To-The-Point-Of-Making-Myself-Sick.” As we leave the house, I envision a younger me, compelling my mom to pull over on the way to school so I can hurl. Keep it together, Jared.
8:59 AM
Spencer is in town for the day. My wife drops me off and we meet in the parking lot of the Renaissance Hotel to take the Media Shuttle to Southern Hills. Bill Haisten of the Tulsa World is walking across the parking lot, so we wait for him. Not 75 feet from the giant black motor coach, it begins to pull away. Bill isn’t thrilled. We’re just happy to be there.
9:30 AM
A half-hour later, the next available shuttle slowly comes alive. Our shuttle coordinator tells us and a handful of out-of-town media that the drive to Southern Hills will take about 30 minutes. I try not to audibly laugh. THIRTY MINUTES?! I could hitchhike to Southern Hills in half an hour.
9:56 AM
Sure enough, he knew what he was talking about. What is normally a quick 6.5-mile jaunt across town has been transformed into a 10-mile tour ordeal. We finally disembark the shuttle at the steps of the Media Center at Southern Hills Country Club. Having attended last year’s KitchenAid Senior PGA Championship as credentialed media, I thought I had an idea of what we were in for. I was wrong.
Before you can even enter the Media Center, you have to go through a TSA-style security checkpoint. Not just the first time. Every time. They scan your bag, run you through a metal detector and once they determine you’re not an agitator with a typewriter, you are granted permission to enter. You walk down an endless hallway with larger-than-life wraps of future PGA Championships and past PGA Champions on the walls until you step up to the registration desk. You try to act cool and collected like you belong, while they thumb through hundreds of white Manila folders to find your name. Yep, there it is. Each folder has a sticker on the front, with a desk assignment. Red Dirt Golf Collective is at workstation F2.
10:15 AM
Our wives have been waiting by the PGA Shops now for nearly half an hour, and they’ve already spent $82 on beer and water. But before we meet up, it’s time to check out one of the perks of being credentialed media - the dining room. We catch it near the end of breakfast service. Spencer opts for a bowl of melon (yuck) and a chocolate donut. I have a slice of mushroom quiche and a chocolate donut. Down the hatch. Time to get our steps in.
10:30 AM
There seems to be a bit of First Day overzealousness. Rather than allowing us to walk the road directly to our designated meeting place with our wives, we are instead directed into the course by a young security guard. Easy enough, we thought. Small detour, plus we’d get a glimpse of some golf. Doubling back across the outdoor tennis courts, up the back of the clubhouse grandstand and to the 10th tee, we can now cut across No. 1, through the parking lot and down to the meeting place.
Wrong again. The pathway between No. 10 and No. 1 is closed, so instead we are directed to cross No. 10 fairway, down the hill to No. 18 fairway, across No. 18 and No. 1, then back up the hill. We’ve been on the grounds for all of 45 minutes and my knees are already locking up.
A solid hour after our original meeting time, we find our wives in the shade of an oak tree by the bar.
11:15 AM
We finally emerge from the PGA Shops with bags full of shirts, hats, posters, pin flags, coffee mugs and trinkets. With more than 1,200 logoed items from nearly every major golf apparel brand (including a Greg Norman collection right inside the front door), it’s easy to have a bit of sensory overload. Finally, we decide it’s time to hit the course and watch some golf.
1:30 PM
We’ve walked most of the back nine. The girls got a glimpse of Colin Morikawa and Rory McIlroy. I’m pushing the stroller, which is as difficult to push through thick Bermuda rough as you’d imagine. After spraying a drive right and flushing the side of the brand new Premium Partner Village with a shiny Pro-V1, one unnamed international pro walked up and colorfully exclaimed to us, “the wind is a bit of a mind-f***!”
We’re trudging back up the hill. It’s time to go to work. And lunch is calling my name.
Baby’s first PGA Championship
2:10 PM
I see Sam Humphreys of the Sports Animal / Golf Oklahoma / The 73rd Hole Podcast in the Media Center and he reminds me that the only Oklahoma-born and bred professional in the field, Talor Gooch, is taking the interview stand in 20 minutes. We better head down there soon. No time for lunch.
2:30 PM
This time we ARE able to walk the road. Gooch is right on time, and offers some golden quotes about the golf course, the state of his game and getting a home crowd advantage in a major championship. I stay for Viktor Hovland’s interview, then head back to the Media Center to (hopefully) grab some food.
Oklahoman Talor Gooch meets with the media.
3:30 PM
“Hearty Afternoon Snacks” are being served in the Media Center. Having skipped lunch, I have a hot dog, a couple of chicken strips and a bowl of locally-grown strawberries and whipped cream. The Fore Play boys have taken over the lounge. Sounds like they had a pretty big day. After my late lunch, I head back to F2 and get to work.
5:30 PM
I need to find a quiet place to conduct an interview. Seeing that most of the radio booths are empty, I commandeer The Sports Animal’s booth and angle my laptop in such a way that my double chins aren’t so blatantly offensive. Life is an optical illusion.
6:00 PM
Interview done. Bags packed. I’m headed out to the shuttle. This time I don’t miss it. As we disembark at the Renaissance, I remember my wife dropped me off this morning. As some media members walk to their car and others head inside for a classic midwestern hotel happy hour, there I stand on the corner with my backpack. Just a schoolboy, waiting on his ride after a big first day.