Day 112: Golf Ninja, Phil Mickelson, Wins First British Open.

I was sort of obsessed with the British Open this weekend. There was something about getting up and lounging around on the couch all morning watching this thing live that was very appealing. Probably because it was too hot to move on Saturday... and it was too cool this morning not to!

When any golf tournament is close, especially a major, it's so riveting because (like most sporting events) anything can happen. Just one missed fairway into the deep fescue, just one deep pot bunker, just one putt struck too firmly or just one gust of wind can knock a player down in an instant. Ask Tiger Woods or Lee Westwood or Hunter Mahan or Adam Scott—all of whom where in the hunt when the round started today.

They all had something to prove today. Tiger hasn't won a major since 2008 and he won The Open last in 2006. Adam Scott was desperate to quell the demons of 2012 when he blew a four shot lead with four holes to play, relinquishing the title to Ernie Els. Lee Westwood and Hunter Mahan were both still in search of their first major win.

But Muirfield Golf Links in East Lothian, Scotland had other ideas. The course was nothing short of brutal over the four days. Warm, sunny weather dried out the fairways and greens making drives, and unfortunately putts, never-ending. Some golfers seemed to handle it well, others did not. Heading in to the final round, Lee Westwood enjoyed a two-shot lead at three under, but both Tiger Woods and Hunter Mahan lurked two just shots back at -1. Phil Mickelson was tied for ninth at +2.

Who knew that the top of the leader board would become infected with a case of the yips today? By the ninth hole, Westwood had not hit one fairway off the tee and ended up with a +4 round for the day. And Tiger seemed to forget how to putt and settled for a +3 round... although he did remember how to swear, which the microphones picked up often. Phil Mickelson must have been wearing a hazmat suit because yips were nowhere to be found in his game today.

Mickelson started the day five shots off the lead. By the ninth hole, he had cut that deficit to three shots, birdying both par fives on the front. After bogeying the 10th hole, he put the pedal to the metal and quietly took full advantage of the problems the players behind him were having. He birdied four of the last six holes, including 17 and 18 to put the Championship out of reach and post a 66—the low score of the day. They were engraving his name on the Claret Jug before the final pairing had even finished.

Personally, I would've been happier with a multi-player sudden death, but that's mostly because I love sudden death in major golf championships, and also because I'm not the biggest Phil fan. Regardless, Congratulations Phil Mickelson on winning your first British Open!

Day 111: Oh Those British Open Bunkers!

Nothing strikes fear into me more than seeing my golf shot find its resting place in a big pile of sand. My confidence on the golf course on most days teeters between very little and almost none, and then you add in the stress of trying to get that little white ball out of the sand, all without ever letting your club touch the sand, and any shred of confidence that may have been present is now nowhere to be found. Yet... I continue to play.

So when I watch the professionals and their sand play, I often find myself in awe. And especially when it's British Open time. Those are some seriously effed up bunkers—evil, confidence-smashing, pot bunkers that would make me want to pick up my ball, call it a day and start drinking early. Yet, they continue to make incredible, acrobatic saves, which is why they get to do this as a day job and I don't.

One of my recent tee shots on a fairly easy par three landed in the green-side bunker. Now granted, it was scorching hot, I was hungry and exhausted, but it took me at least eight hacks to release that little ball from its sandy prison (and a lot of bad, bad words.) And then I see the shot Tiger Woods made in the second round yesterday and I just shake my head.

This year, at Muirfield in Scotland, it's almost impossible to keep yourself out of those villainous bunkers. With the rock hard fairways and greens, any ball that goes awry and manages to stay out of that knee high fescue, runs the risk of rolling and rolling and rolling and often funnels into one. I don't remember a tournament with so many bunker shots—and I've been studying them all so maybe I can learn a thing or two.

It does make me feel just a little better to see some players have problems...