They walked their four-plus miles around the No. 2 course Thursday morning, hitting between them 21 fairways, 26 greens, making eight birdies, two bogeys and one chip-in.

One made some eye contact with the gallery every now and again, the other looked stoically down the fairway and through the patrons.

One has a little cat and the other’s about to have a little person. Both came to town at the 11th hour and swear they’re no worse for the wear. Between them they have 24 tour victories and each is keen on snaring that first major championship.

Phil Mickelson and David Duval presented one of the best chapters of the first-round of the 1999 U.S. Open Thursday at Pinehurst. Grouped together at 7:30 a.m. and joined by the hard-swinging South American, Carlos Franco, Mickelson and Duval began their runs toward much-coveted titles with three-under 67s.

They began in a drizzle and continued through the far reaches of the course out on four and five in a steady rain. But by the time Mickelson rolled home a 15-footer for a saving par on the 18th green as the Village Chapel rang 12 bells, the sun was trying to seep through and it appeared Pinehurst had dodged its worst weather mortars.

Intact were Mickelson’s and Duval’s designs on this championship as well as No. 2’s reputation.

"The greens were a little more receptive," Duval said, "but instead of hitting a six-iron into 16 like I did in practice, today I hit a four-iron. So the conditions kind of evened out."

"The course played about as easy as it could," Mickleson opined. "It’s a tribute to its difficulty that there were really not a lot of low scores. We’re in for a long weekend if the greens dry out."

Duval and Mickelson each came to Pinehurst with assorted distractions, Duval’s due to a burned thumb and forefinger on his right hand and Mickelson’s because his wife is a projected two weeks from delivering the couple’s first child.

Duval wants to put the fingers issue behind him. "The hand’s fine," he says. "It’s now a non-issue."

But he still had to endure inquiring minds who wondered what he did with his time Friday through Tuesday while he was letting his fingers heal. "I unpacked, I worked out, I played with my cat, I watched TV," he said. "It sounds boring, I guess, but I rather enjoyed it."

Mickelson, though, would set the Open aside if he gets a message from Amy at home in Scottsdale, Ariz., that she’s going into labor. His caddie carries a beeper and a cellphone in the golf bag, and Amy has a code to punch in to reach her husband no matter where he is on the golf course. Mickelson, a licensed pilot, has the itinerary down to the minute for the return home, if necessary.

"I figure it’s about five hours, 15 minutes to the hospital," he says. "Four forty-five in the air, 10 minutes to the airport, probably 20 more before take-off. The plane’s standing by, my co- pilot’s ready to file."

For real? For real you’d bolt the back nine on Sunday if the Open title’s in sight?

"There’ll be plenty more U.S. Opens," Mickelson says. "My first child will come only once."

The golf games each exhibited Thursday were as contrasting as the personalities of the engaging Mickelson and the detached Duval. The former went from three-under through five to one-under through eight and back to three-under through 14. The latter was steadier with three birdies and no bogeys.

"That’s how I try to play. I try not to do those other kinds of things. I find it to be less stressful," Duval deadpanned, drawing a smattering of laughter in the media tent.

What’s serious is the challenge Pinehurst No. 2 could serve up this weekend if, as weather forecasters say, all or most of the rain is gone by Thursday night. Despite nearly an inch of rain between 5:45 and 7 p.m. Wednesday, every green was rolling just below or above an 11 on the Stimpmeter by Thursday morning—dead on the USGA’s goal regardless of waterfall.

They were soft Thursday, but still fast, giving Pinehurst maintenance officials another nugget of evidence that their 1996 conversion to Penn G-2 bent and USGA specified substructures was a success. The greens flushed themselves out without course officials using the Subair system that can suction excess water from the greens.

"This is the best test of golf I’ve played in a major championship," Mickelson said. "Other U.S. Open courses have taken the driver out of your hand, forced you to hit two and three and four-irons off the tee.

Others make the short game obsolete. Here with all the options around the greens, the short game is an integral part of the championship."

As are David Duval and Phil Mickelson—provided no one grabs another scalding teapot or has a baby anytime soon.

Lee Pace is a Chapel Hill golf writer and the author of "Pinehurst Stories—A Celebration of Great Golf and Good Times."