It was the summer of 1999. The time for the U.S. Open had finally arrived. The site that year was Pinehurst, North Carolina, a short distance from where I was living. I had access to a house in Pinehurst, so I signed up to be a volunteer. I was hoping to work on the golf course … perhaps as a marshall or a sign bearer or a driving range attendant… something that would get me close to the action.
My assignment?
Drive a van from the eency weency Southern Pines airport to the bustling town of Pinehurst. Not exactly the choicest of jobs, but the perks were nice. I was given a pass to get on the course to watch the tournament whenever I was not driving the shuttle. I also got a nice shirt and hat out of the deal.
I started driving the shuttle the Saturday before the week of the tournament. I would hang out at the Southern Pines airport and see if anyone needed a lift to town. That first Saturday, players and coaches began to arrive in their private jets.
The first one to arrive was Payne Stewart. As it turned out, Payne Stewart won the U.S. Open that week by one stroke in one of the most dramatic fashions ever. Tragically, Payne Stewart died a few months later when his Lear jet lost its cabin pressure en route to a golf tournament. Everyone on board lost consciousness and the jet eventually ran out of fuel and plunged into the ground in South Dakota.
One of my eeriest memories is staring out over the tarmac at Payne Stewart getting off his Lear jet. Stewart had style, no doubt about it. I just looked at that jet and smiled. Little did I know then that Stewart would die in that Lear jet four months later. By the way, I asked Payne if he needed a ride to town. He declined. He already had a ride.
I was on the course on championship Sunday. The crowds were large, and there was a misty rain. The ending was going to be close and the atmosphere was electric. Tiger was in the hunt. Mickelson was in the hunt. There were about five players who had a chance to win it.
I was tired from walking the course so much that week, and my socks were getting soaked. I made a fateful decision. I decided to go back to the house to watch the finish on NBC. What a mistake.
My friends said they wanted to go sit in the grandstands on the 18th green and watch the finish. I declined and returned to the house. I got to dry out my feet, and my friends got to witness history in person.
Incidentally, the organizers of Pinehurst invited me back to volunteer again for 2005 Open. I no longer have access to a house there, so I declined. With my luck, this year's open will probably end up being the most exciting golf event in history.
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