Brian Bolter's Blog

Arnie or Jack? I would have taken Arnie. Phil or Tiger. I took Phil. For years. Until recently. And after this Father's Day ... never again.

Watching even pre-US Open coverage last week, the whiff of history was in the air. Golf at the highest level ... our national championship ... and the best golfer in the world would make his first appearance since a third (and many skeptics say could be the start of a career ending) knee surgery. Even passing golf fans caught wind of the historical elements at play along a spat of California coastline called Torrey Pines. Little did they know, even they would care who made a putt on the 91st hole come Monday afternoon.

My two year old and I settled onto the couch for the final round in prime time on Father's Day. He more interested in my interest ... but both at peace being witnesses to the drama. Well past his bath time and nudging past his bed time hour too ... Tiger did what only Tiger could do. Make a 12 foot putt on the last hole of the tournament for a come from behind tie in the US Open. I raced the little man upstairs, hurriedly slopped through his bath, threw his pj's on and whisked him downstairs to catch the sudden death playoff hole and eventual win. Only ... the Open plays a full 18 hole match ... the next day! We would wait. Christmas Eve like anticipation for me. Him ... not so much.

But when Tiger and Rocco Mediate took the course on Monday ... head to head ... 18 holes ... an affable journeyman golfer versus the world's best ... it was even better than I ever imagined it could be. Tiger ... wincing less in pain from the surgically tender knee. Rocco ... swimming in adrenaline and hope and underdog status. 18 holes wouldn't be enough. On the 19th hole ... the inevitable. Tiger won. We knew he would. The world knew he would. Vegas bookies knew he would. But we watched anyway.

When I catch the highlights with my son 30 years from now, I'll tell him how even then ... I felt like we were seeing the christening of a living legend. LIke grainey, black and white film of Hagen, Vardell, Arnie and Jack ... it may have been on a 42" plasma in technicolor ... but the feeling of history was the same. Mediate, Olgilvey, Westwood ... run of the mill golfers who gave Tiger a halfhearted fight that last round. Please. We would have turned the tv off by Saturday if it were just them in the hunt. But Tiger made it impossible to turn the tv off.

 The world's best at what he does in the prime of his career battling through unthinkable pain on Father's Day playing a game so many of us share with our little ones. I'll be able to feel the air and re-live that race upstairs for bathtime for decades to come. It's the 91st hole finish most of the world will remember. It's the opportunity to share a moment in history with my little one that I'll remember. That's an old school Father's Day. I'd still take Arnie over Jack. But count me a reformed Tiger-skeptic. He's come into his own over the years. And I've grown to appreciate the tangential benefits he brings to the game ... many of which he'll never know.