Take Kathleen Robinson’s opening round at Pine Needles on Thursday. She wishes someone would. Take it and bury it somewhere deep in the annals of USGA horror stories.
Kathleen Robinson is a nice young lady who thought she had paid her dues in the game of golf. Although she’s 35 and didn’t take up the game until she was 29, she had worked hard and dedicated herself to the point that she qualified for the Women’s Public Links Championship in 1998. She won the Evergreen Invitational that year and decided, “Hey, I like this game!” So, she took the leap of faith and declared herself a professional.
Robinson can obviously play a little golf. After all, she fought her way through qualifying for the 56th U.S. Women’s Open and brought her new game to town for the acid test.
Well, the acid won.
Robinson was introduced to the game by her boss while working overseas. He knew the game well enough to teach her the fundamentals and her natural talent took over from there. Hey, going from novice to playing in the U.S. Open in six years is no mean feat.
But under the heat of the Sandhills sun and the withering pressure of being in the first group off the back nine in the opening round of the Open, that natural talent took a sudden leave of absence.
A bogey on the 10th hole, her first, didn’t seem too worrisome after she had made pars on the next two holes. But then the big, bad, ugly bogeyman made his appearance, grabbed her by the throat and refused to let go. It was bogey on 13, double-bogey on 14, quadruple bogey on 15, doubles on 16 and 17 and, adding insult to injury, a brain-numbing triple bogey on 18.
That figured out to a half a century on her first nine and Robinson had to be wondering why she was putting herself through this agony and frustration.
To her credit, the Alexandria, Va., resident didn’t quit. She hung in, parred the first five holes on the second nine and posted a respectable 38 for a first round of 88.
Such is the nature of this game. It’s so beautiful. And it’s so cruel.
Paying a visit to the interview room in the media center this week is an international cultural experience. For an old Columbus County farm boy who learned to speak in a slur and monosyllables, it has been a “Say what?” experience.
A.J. (short for Anna-Jane) Eathorne went out early Thursday and posted a neat 67. That made the Canadian the first player to meet the press.
Say what? OK, A.J does speak English, but hers is the real kind. It might as well be Greek to me.
Then it’s Mi Hyun Kim’s turn in the hot seat. Hot dang.
Plucky Rhonda Glenn, manager of communications for the USGA, is an angel of mercy. She phrases the questions for Kim, who understands English but doesn’t trust herself to speak it, and brought an interpreter with her. I’m sure he did a great job, but it might as well have been Greek to me.
Then along came Se Ri Pak. The lady speaks impeccable English, which means I can’t understand a word she’s saying. Se Ri is poised, cool as the proverbial cucumber, and looks good up there on the dais. Thank God the USGA transcribes the interviews. In English.
Finally, just when I was ready to give up and trash that new $3,400 set of hearing aids I got especially for this Open, Cindy Figg-Currier saved the day by shooting another 67. Figg-Currier is from Michigan, which almost qualifies for foreign country status, but she lives in Austin, Texas. Hey, even I can understand Texan.
And so it goes, just another day at the International Women’s Open. Another day of broken dreams and broken English.
