I'm not normally one of those sadists who enjoys seeing the PGA Tour pros tortured, especially by unfair golf courses. But, I have to admit I was braying like a donkey on Ecstasy during Sunday's U.S. Open finale.

Maybe it's because all of Pinehurst No. 2's trickery is around the greens, but I loved seeing all those balls...trickle, trickle, trickle off the greens. "Will it hold? Will it stay? Oh, god there it goes!" The announcers acted like there may be a death in the family. Yow! There goes another one. It was like death by a thousand bee stings.

I've played those greens, I know what they were going through. I have to say, I was laughing as hard when I was doing the same thing this past year at No. 2, but then I'm incredibly secure in my manhood.

I didn't enjoy seeing Retief Goosen implode, or the fat guy, but I LOVED seeing Michael Campbell mop up the floor with Tiger Woods. Woods is so intense, with that arrogant glare and that cursing after misses, and it was a joy to see this journeyman from New Zealand, this Maori warrior, make history with an incredible round. With a Tiger on his tail, Campbell just got better and better. Nerves of steel, heart of gold, soul on fire. He's got the spirituality of a shaman, while Tiger is all talent and not much else. How do you say "choke" in Maori?

This was a championship by atttition -- all the dominoes fell except for one.

I wonder if they'll erect a statue to Campbell. Not likely. He ain't American and he ain't white. Too bad, he's my new favorite.

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