By Kim_J. Harmon

L

isten, I’m NOT going to sit here and tell you that I DIDN’T get some sort of perverse (and disturbing) pleasure in seeing a guy like Mark Calcavecchia roll his tee shot on No. 2 into a fairway bunker or seeing two guys – TWO GUYS – in the same threesome drop their tee shots into the water on No. 17.

I did.

I did get pleasure in it.

I dump my tee shots in the bunker ALL THE TIME. I lose TWO BALLS in the water almost every round. It’s comforting (I think) to see some guy who has made millions on the PGA tour being just as fallible as me.

But –

And there’s ALWAYS a but.

But these guys still do stuff I can never HOPE to do. Never DREAM of HOPING to do. Never FANTASIZE about DREAMING of HOPING to do.

Like this one guy on No. 17.

The 17th at River Highlands is a beautiful 420-par 4, with water bracing the right side of the fairway and curling in enough that it has to be carried on the second shot to the green. Now, there are a series of bunkers along the left side of the fairway – the last about 280 yards off the tee and about 140 from the green.

If I’M in the bunker, I have NO PRAYER of reaching the green. I would have to dump out of the bunker about 15 yards and then grab an eight-iron and STILL hope to get one over the water. But this one guy (I think he was from Australia – not that THAT has anything to do with anything) took out whatever club he took out and scorched one out of the trap, over the water, and dropped it within 10 feet on the green.

That just IRKS me.

Then Tim Herron, on the 12th, pulls a ball out of the DEEP rough about 120 yards off the green and runs it about six feet past the hole (narrowly missing the birdie on the putt back). Now, I routinely roll my ball over and even THEN I wouldn’t have been able to get my ball out of that grass – we couldn’t even see Herron’s shins, for crying out loud!

Even though I had those perverse pleasures (how happy was I to see another guy – I think it was Kevin Johnson – chunk a greenside chip shot on No. 4?), I had to face up to a bitter reality that was unfaceuptooable (thanks to Mayor Quimby for that word).

These guys are MAGICIANS.

Chips shots out of deep rough, BOOMING drives that seem to get just the right bounce, impossible approach shots that DON’T bang off a wayward tree limb, and wicked putts on lightning-fast greens that would have the average golfer turning to jelly right in his Lovejoys.

It is amazing. Really.

On Thursday, I had a chance to see Charles Howell III tee off on No. 1 with Phil Blackmar and Emanuelle Canonica. Blackmar was a former GHO champ and all he did was bang a drive right, off the cart path. Canonica hit a nice drive with a draw that dropped into the little valley on the left side of the fairway.

And then came Howell. He is a former NCAA champ, I hear, hailing from Augusta, Georgia. If he weighs more than 160 pounds, I’d be surprised. But this good-looking young kid gets up there and CRUSHES a ball right down the heart of the fairway longer than any drive I had ever seen in person.

Amazing.

And so the next time (the first time?) I hit one of my drives 250 yards over water, I won’t be inclined to say, “Come on, how hard can this be?” That’s because I know – deep in my heart – that I will chunk my chip shot and then three putt for a triple bogey.