Photography Courtesy of Senior PGA Championship
It was a Sunday full of surprises at Bellerive Country Club. The biggest surprise of all, of course, was Kohki Idoki, an unknown player from Japan who came from behind to win the Senior PGA Championship on his first ever trip to the United States.
Kenny Perry and Jay Haas, who played together in the final group, started the day at -10 and -8 respectively. They were in position to stage a two-man battle for the championship but then seemed genuinely surprised by just how badly they played on the back nine. They cringed and danced and grimaced with each approach shot that sailed past the green, each putt that just barely sneaked around the hole.
And then there was this hopeless blogger, covering a professional golf tournament for the first time. It was clear from the moment I arrived at Bellerive on Wednesday, when a friendly police officer simply wasn't convinced that I could possibly deserve to park in the media lot, that I was out of my element. Time and again, I obliviously strolled right past people who needed to scan my credential, at the security checkpoint out front or in line for the media dining. (And man, do those golf writers know how to eat.)
Out on the course, I quickly realized that all of the official-looking people blocking my view by holding their hands up in the air were silently requesting our silence. On the leader board, I was able to surmise that the red numbers were under par, while the black ones were over.
But I still wasn't quite sure where or whom to watch. There were so many players and so many holes (18!). I started out on the ninth green and watched a few players three-putt. After all, this was early in the morning, and the worst players go out first. Then I walked over to No. 6, because I had read that it was a tough Par 3. I'd even heard it described as "train-wreck city." Sadly, while I was watching, every player made par, some even saving it after hitting their tee shots into the bunker.
After some careful consideration over lunch, I decided on this fool-proof plan for the afternoon: I would follow the final group, Perry and local-favorite Haas (born in St. Louis; raised in Belleville, Ill.), for their entire round. And that's what I did, taking meticulous notes of each and every shot. It was a long way to walk, and the day was humid. By the back nine, I was drenched in sweat, even my notebook bordering on sticky. And at just about every hole, some path I needed to take was blocked off to let the players through first. When the gate reopened, I'd have to scurry along quickly to catch up.
Early in the round, it seemed like I had made a good decision. Perry made three birdies in the first five holes, to go to 13 under par, taking a commanding lead. (Though I also knew he was somewhat famous for coughing up such leads, having done so in the Masters a few years back.) Haas was also playing well early, going to 10 under. It was shaping up to be a two-man race.
But from there, they faltered. Both bogeyed that pesky sixth hole. Haas briefly gave his fans (and the course was full of them) a glimmer of hope with a birdie at No. 9, but he bogeyed No. 11, which he later described as an "easy hole." He made bogeys at Nos. 14 and 16, too.
Perry's day came unraveled at No. 13, a par three. He said his tee shot over the green, then chipped the ball back off in the other direction. It was painful to watch. When it was all said and done, he tapped in to make a double-bogey five.
Midway through the back nine, Idoki, a wisp of a man, 5-foot-5 and 136 pounds, took the lead. He played the final round at six under par, finishing the tournament at 11 under. Folks around me in the gallery were trying to figure out who he was, a futile effort. Even the golf know-it-alls had never heard of him before. Haas birdied the last two holes, but it was too little, too late. He and Perry finished tied for second at nine under.
As they approached the 18th green, I realized following the final group might have been a mistake. Idoki won, and I had seen him hit only one shot all day, his tee shot on the first hole.
In the interview room afterward, Haas was dejected, perhaps because this loss came so close to home. He and Perry had "stepped all in it" on the back nine, he said. In the final analysis, Haas hadn't hit good enough approach shots to set up short putts. And he couldn't sink the long ones. "I wish I wasn't so disappointed with second place," he said, "but I am."
Then it was Idoki's turn to take the microphone. He didn't speak English, so a nice woman was brought in to translate. In the newspaper, they called her a translator, which is a lie. I don't know what her occupation is, but it is clearly not translating. She spoke Japanese very well, but the English was an issue.
Journalists asked questions in English. Eager but uncomfortable, she struggled to understand them, eventually saying something to Idoki in Japanese. He would give a long answer, smiling, laughing, nearly crying. Then she would say a few broken English words.
It's hard to know how close what she told us was to what he meant, but some of the answers came out poetic, in spite of themselves. Is this his greatest accomplishment in golf? "He can't imagine any more." What were his expectations for the tournament? "He can't believe that he is the champion."
Wearing a belt buckle that said "Crazy," Idoki said he might not want to defend his title next year. He prefers to stay in Japan. If he does return, maybe the PGA will think to arrange a real translator. If he doesn't, then his first trip to America might be his last, even if he did win a major golf tournament on his vacation.
