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Today's thread is about covering Majors in the New York City area - I've done a couple so here are my thoughts. First one is the 2009 US Open at Bethpage Black in Farmingdale. Look at a map and hey, it's only 35 miles or an hour to get there. Easy, peasy, right? . .. 1
Well, if you've ever been to NYC, you know you don't ever want to drive that distance, or have to park a car in midtown. The alternative is to stay out on Long Island, but I've always said staying in Long Island with NYC so close is like being the doorman at a . . . 2
whorehouse. So close, yet so far. So if you want to stay in midtown, you have to take transit and that means the Long Island Rail Road. The LIRR is pretty good, but relying on transit means making all sorts of connections. Once you get to Farmingdale, you need to get . . . 3
to the course and yes, there was a shuttle for all the fans to get to the course but it was predictably really busy and ran from 6 am to 10 pm. So, seemingly no problem. Predictably, I decided to stay in midtown, because that's where the fun and the all-night pubs . . 4
were and I had a great place to stay in Chelsea that was affordable, comfortable and close enough to walk to Penn Station for the daily LIRR ride. And then it started to rain apocalyptically during that 2009 US Open. Only about 30 minutes of play on the Thursday . . 5
before total washout. Friday and Saturday weren't much better, but they got some play in, but by Saturday night, we knew we would be here Monday and possibly Tuesday, especially if there was an 18 hole playoff. Lovely, more LIRR rides. The rain and mud was so bad . . 6
that I knew I wasn't bringing my golf shoes home. They were so nasty that I just hoped they got me through the tourney. So I would just leave them under my desk in the media center. On the Saturday, the weather held up until late, so play went until 8:30 or so. . . 7
After all the interviews and writing got done, it was 10:15 p.m. and I went out to the shuttle area. Crickets because the service had ended at 10 pm. A bunch of other writers were sharing a cab back to the train station but I was number 7 in a 5 person cab. By then . . .8
I'm thinking I have to do what the photographers do while uploading their reams of pics: sleep underneath their desk. They might not finish until 2 a.m. and the place starts humming again at 5 am so 3 hours of sleep under the desk was a regular thing for those guys . . 9
The thought of sleeping where my nasty shoes were wasn't particularly appealing - especially since I was really craving a beer at the pub just down from my Chelsea abode. And I'm standing the parking lot like a loser waiting for a bus that I knew would never come. . . 10
Thankfully, a kindly security guard came up to ask me what I needed and after hearing my sob story, told me to go talk to the Farmingdale police officer at the security gate. Maybe he could help. I go and talk to him and he does get a laugh about why I'm still in the dark . . 11
with nowhere to go. He offers me a ride to the train station because "I ain't doing anything other than going out to the turnpike to catch drunk drivers anyway so this will be different." I tell him the next train to NYC leaves at 40 past the hour, which by now was only . . .12
10 minutes away. He says no problem, he'll just turn on the sirens and gun it. We get there in about 7 minutes and because he had me in the back where perps usually sit, he had to come open the door for me as a stunned ticket taker wonders what the hell is happening . . 13
I thank the cop and get on the train and am amazed when the ticket taker comes back to my car and yells out: "I'm checking tickets now and I'm not coming back for the rest of the ride" - Interesting. Well, I have now discovered the Saturday Party Train!! I look around . . 14
and everybody is dressed to party. Long Island girls with big hair and little black dresses. Dudes wearing way too much cologne. And instantly, bottles of vodka and rum magically appear out of purses and backpacks. I am sitting in a booth with some lovely Long Island ladies . 15
and I'm a friendly Canadian so before I know it, I'm drinking Grey Goose and red Gatorade mixed together. It tastes way better than it sounds. Plus, the ladies were great company. Meanwhile, there's a commotion at the bathroom. Appears there is illicit activity . . 16
going on there. Many people enter. When they leave, they are either putting their clothes back on or wiping things off their face. Or both. It was a fantastic ride. My only regret: I have left my camera and computer back at the course, in a locker with a photographer . . . 17
buddy of mine because I knew I would be taking this damn train back at 6 a.m. (FYI, reason it is called the party train is because all the Long Islanders know the first train back home leaves at 5 am so if they leave LI at 10:40 or 11:40, they can just party until . . . 18
they can't and stagger home on the 5 am. I really should have taken that to see the carnage.) As it was, I took the 7 a.m. on Sunday and there were some leftover partiers returning. As for the tournament itself, it did end on Monday, with the unforgettable Lucas Glover . . 19
winning. I did leave that nasty pair of shoes at the course. Best of all, one of my reporter buddies, a Scottish fellow named Kenny Reid, was working on a book that included the 2009 US Open and he thought my story about the cop and the train was so good, he included . . 20
it in his book, published in Scotland. I have a copy as proof. I haven't made it back to Farmingdale since, and this thread has gone on too long, but I will be back tomorrow with the 2016 PGA Championship at Baltusrol in NJ. Farmingdale sucks but NJ is way worse . . 21 and END
