Enjoy the read and also listen to The Golf Pilgrim podcast from Winged Foot West here... https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/the-golf-pilgrim/id1743914901?i=1000670769065
According to Ben Hogan, the 10th hole at Winged Foot West was a "three-iron" into someone's bedroom.
To take his analogy, I was the equivalent of being in the cellar – 15 feet or so down on the left of the green at the side of a big bunker.
My caddie stood several yards left and short of the flag and said: "Pitch your ball here and it will roll down to the flag."
Sure, I have seen such a shot played on TV but I am a mid-handicap golfer who didn't have a flop shot in the armoury.
Until now. With as full a backswing as my old bones could muster, I swished, saw the ball fly 20 feet upwards, hit the designated spot and creep down to the pin, landing four feet short.
I nailed the speedy downhill putt for one of the best pars of my life.
If you can't be inspired by Winged Foot, you don't have golf in your heart. It has been home to six US Opens; the most recent one, in 2020, was played without spectators because of the Covid pandemic.
However, our wonderful hosts for the day were there to watch Bryson Dechambeau win his first major..
Living just five minutes from the club, they were asked to be among the volunteers to help out during the most surreal championship ever played.
Being their guests four years later, we were treated as members for a day at a club home to two beautiful courses – the West and East.
As it was on the 2020 www.top100golfcourses.com World Top 100 list, we were playing the West.
So, after changing on the second floor of the exquisitely traditional locker room and dabbling in the extensively stocked pro's shop, it was off to the huge putting green and classy driving range to hone our game.
We need not have worried too much about nerves from the first tee. It is a Winged Foot tradition that the casual player has two shots in honour of former member David Mulligan.
I took full advantage, knocking my ball down the fairway after the first one had pulled into the rough.
It is still a heck of a way to a steep, undulating green, extended in the recent Gil Hanse renovations.
Hanse and his partner Jim Wagner returned to original designer A.W. Tillinghast's work in bunkering and greens while giving the course more air to breathe by cutting down some trees.
Detail is seen as so crucial that there is a SubAir system to suck excess water out of the greens and giant fans to make sure they don't burn.
While the course is different since the Mickelson and Colin Montgomerie meltdowns in 2006, it has made Winged Foot West no less formidable – with cloying rough awaiting those who slip away from the tightest fairways we have seen on our American travels.
During the 1959 US Open, Billy Casper laid up at the long par-three third during all four rounds and won because of his consecutive pars there.
Today's equipment means players can hit the ball much further, but I was comfortable taking out a driver to reach the green.
Winged Foot West has a reputation for being exceptionally difficult, but we found that sensible placement and keeping over-ambition in check was critical to a decent score.
And there are opportunities – such as the fifth hole, a relatively short par-five bending around an avenue of trees inside a big bunker on the right.
In common with many, the green is tilted towards a sand trap, but a shot down the left could yield a birdie opportunity.
Mrs W and I were on the coattails of our splendidly convivial hosts for most of the round, but their expertise in negotiating the course, especially the greens, meant an away win was always unlikely.
I was loose on my approaches, so I found myself in too many traps, but the sand was so wonderfully consistent that I could extricate myself.
The best save of my day came on the seventh – a par-three aptly named Babe-In-The-Woods.
Fortunately, I didn't fall into the right bunker where defending US Open Johnny Miller was stuck for four shots but I can attest that the left is deep enough.
Nevertheless, my trusty 58-degree wedge found the putting surface and I closed out my par.
The eighth is a majestic stroke-index one, par-four, around beckoning trees on the left and will be remembered for Mrs W's fantastic shot out of a bunker – on the adjacent hole.
Her second hit had flown across the path to the right into deep sand, but despite being blocked out by trees, she somehow managed to advance the ball about 80 yards back onto the fairway.
The straight par-five ninth has the beautiful backdrop of the clubhouse and has more bunkers around its green than any on the West. It was surprisingly straightforward if played sensibly. Pars rained like confetti.
At halfway, it is tradition to pick up supplies at the clubhouse bar or indulge in the ginger nut cookies on the bar and cover them in peanut butter. I would never have dreamed of such a combo, but now I am hooked.
Indeed, they were the key ingredient to ignite my game on the back nine, which, in my opinion, had the more memorable holes.
The double dogleg, par-five 12th, is where Bobby Jones eagled on his way to winning the 1929 Open, and while I can't claim such glory, I will remember a seven-iron out of sand from about 150 yards which found the green.
We had enjoyed a lovely round, and our host was hitting some cracking shots, going a long way to sealing our fate on the 13th, at 201 yards, the longest par-three, by handsomely finding the target from the tee.
I can see why many Winged Foot members count the par-four 15th as their favourite, with its fairway meandering down to a brook unseen from the tee.
By this time, my amiable caddie was synched with my game and advised a conservative approach, yielding a pleasurable five.
The par-five 16th did offer a glint of light for the Brits as drives flew the brook and kept away from the trees lining the left-turning fairway.
It feels like an anomaly because it is only 436 yards from the white tees and a mere 383 from the golds, which were being used by Mrs W and her host.
I missed my chance for birdie but par left us just one down as we moved to the 17th.
Well-well is the name of the penultimate hole, but my language could have been stronger. Given the state of our game, I tried to be muscular rather than brainy and failed hopelessly.
Thus, as our host slammed gloriously down the middle, my ball faded into a bunker. I attempted a ludicrous five-iron thwack and crashed into the lip. My eight-iron follow-up found the next trap.
Mrs W struggled similarly and never has a match been yielded more meekly.
"Wherever you drive here, Phil Mickelson would have swapped you," remarked our host as we moved to the 18th tee.
This dogleg par-four seemed innocuous to me. I headed for a distant fairway bunker and undramatically found grass. Mickelson hit way left into a hospitality tent.
I struck a three-wood down the right-hand side and was in light rough. Mickelson tried a massive cut around a tree, hit a branch and advanced the ball only 25 yards.
My third was a straightforward chip onto the back of the green. Mickelson heaved an eight-iron and the ball plugged in the left-hand bunker.
My putt ran towards the hole, but sadly, there was no par finish. Mickelson struck out of a fried egg across the green into rough.
I tapped in for a five, having enjoyed our round enormously. Mickelson chipped past the hole, meaning he missed a play-off with Geoff Ogilvy.
After a splendid lunch and conversation, our hosts showed us around the displays recounting Winged Foot's fabulous history.
In one glass case is a replica of the US Open trophy, the only major Mickelson never won. Suffice it to say, we basked in our day at this great club more than he did 18 years previously.
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