Bubba Watson walks down the sixth hole as spectators watch just outside the club property.
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DETROIT – The phrase has been used endlessly in pop culture. It’s quiet … too quiet.
It’s hard to tell where he was born, probably in a 1930s western movie, but it’s the most appropriate way to describe the scene this week at the Detroit Golf Club. It’s so quiet it could be … too silent. Without the silent murmurs of fans, the constant hum of concessions and hospitality tents, and even the all too common calls of “Mashed Potatoes”, any sound, light or exceptional, is amplified in the PGA Tour these days.
Friday was cut the day, both for the players on the field and for a local lawn care company with customers along the 7th hole. In fact, we have seen many players tackle the approximately 90 decibels emitted by lawnmowers, just like you and us at the local muni. Hours later, a child offered his best imitation with a plastic lawn mower. It buzzed, buzzed, and buzzed, but Brian Harman, well within earshot, made his three feet even. Unfazed.
That 7th hole was the loudest place on Friday. Wonderful houses flank the entire hole. The type with backyard pools, terraces and outdoor TVs. All the comforts Only those TVs are better off in mute mode this week. It is impossible to say whether Rory Sabbatini’s shabby approach was influenced by the coverage of the Golf Channel from the nearest courtyard, but he certainly felt it.
A few moments earlier, a bang echoed in the first nine. Tom Hoge had raised a half-full bottle of water on the garbage can 15 feet away. It did not work. They probably didn’t hear it on the back nine, but they certainly could have. The clang temporarily held Tony Finau’s group on the eighth Tee.
The biggest competition of the seventh hole was the twelfth tee, in which a group of 10 had elevated views thanks to a five-foot scaffold. Watch some Golf Tour there and it’s hard to imagine doing anything else on a sunny day in July. These are the best players in the world, after all, and homeowners and their guests enjoyed watching them fight on the long par-3 11th.
A group of 10 spectators used the scaffolding to enjoy a splendid view of the eleventh green and twelfth tees.
Sean Zak
“You know, you guys shouldn’t be here,” said Aaron Baddeley jokingly. “They said there were no fans.”
The jovial nature of Baddeley was typical of the Tour professionals who arrived on Friday afternoon 12, but not all of them. One of the house owners had whispered Cameron Tringale’s shirt so softly while he was over his ball. She liked the appearance. Did you hear exactly what he said? He heard enough to get out of the shot while his cart asked to bring the volume down to zero. Tringale had just bogged down on the 11th, but he reset himself calmly and uncorked a 330-yard bomb.
So far we have seen this scenario play on most stops on the PGA Tour. While the host’s slopes are generally lined with some fencing and signage, golf enthusiasts at the Fort Worth and Connecticut events took fencing as inspiration to build their seats a little higher. At some level, players must appreciate it.
But what about those actually on site? About two hundred lucky volunteers help the tournament staff this week, but they have to be careful. Twigs and leaves become difficult small landmines whenever a player is nearby. They will tell you that being on the spot is beautiful. See everything and hear many things, but it implies to be seen is be heard.
Despite the loudest generator on the pitch behind the seventh green, it apparently didn’t stop Luke List from hearing a weak conversation between two volunteers on Thursday afternoon. According to one of them, little more than a whisper had annoyed List, who was missing a 7 foot per bird. When he expressed his displeasure en route to the eighth T, it was ironic, of course. Usually it is the volunteers who ask for complete silence.
