The Kingpins of Cowtown

David Feherty's wild rides

Bowling fans, please indulge me a post about my other sports obsession: golf.

If you've watched any PGA tournaments on CBS in the last 8 years or so, than surely you've come to love David Feherty, the quick-witted Irishman whose on-course reporting keeps viewers from slipping into comas.

Well, Feherty is also an admitted basketcase who loves booze and bicycles, not necessarily in that order. And in the current edition of D Magazine, he tells how he got hit by a truck while riding in Big D.

As usual, he lays bare his life and skewers his foibles. It's a great read. And I, for one, am glad Feherty is upright and back on the course. Even my wife thinks he's hilarious, which makes it easier to justify watching six hours of golf on the weekends.

Rocco rules again?

Don't look now, but fan fave Rocco Mediate is leading the British Open at -1. With no Tiger in the field, this could be Rocco's big moment. At least I hope so.

And Greg Norman is only one stroke back at even par. Old-guy golfers rule! 

Colonial's pitch man striking out so far

Phil Mickelson said when he won Fort Worth's Crowne Plaza Invitational at Colonial that he thought it would be great preparation for the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines.

Not so much. ... Not yet.

Midway through his opening round in San Diego, paired with Tiger and Adam Scott, Phil's at +3 and has found the going very rough. (Actually, he duffed a ball in the rough just a minute ago.) And we know you're all buff now, but we're not vibing the farmer's tan, Phil.

But it's only Day 1, and a Nationwide Tour guy named Justin Hicks is leading. That ain't gonna stick.

Go, Phil. Cowtown and Crowne Plaza are rootin' for ya.

The worst thing about being me ...

and not Rod Pampling, is that he's probably playing a practice round for this weekend's Memorial tourament, and I'm back in my office by the crapper on a rainy day in Fort Worth.

Oh, and he made a half million dollars last weekend at Colonial.

I did not.

Sometimes, second fiddle is just fine

Watching Phil MIckelson make the winning birdie on 18 Sunday, I'm sure Rod Pampling felt like he got punched in the kidneys.

As his twin, even I felt a twinge.

But he's a classy guy, and didn't show the slightest hint of disappointment when he was riding to and from the interview room with his 3-year-old son on his lap. Kids have a way of putting things in perspective.

So does a $536,800 second place check.

Rod, if you ever need a look-alike, I work cheap.

On the final hole, I had a Colonial member say to me: "Hey, you look like Pampling's younger, thinner brother." He had been drinking, but so what.

It made my week.

Who let this moron in the winner's circle?

And I'm not talking about the guy who jumped into Crampton's Lake after Phil sank his putt on 18.

There was a reporter (or someone posing as a reporter) who ran up to Mickelson shouting, "Did you use the ol' Billy Baroo on that last shot!!!"

Mickelson, taken aback, smiled and asked: "Why are you shouting." Then he did his best to answer the question and ignore the goofball.

Plaid jackets come with privileges

Not only does Phil Mickelson have a hot wife, catalog-cute kids and a killer tan, now he's got two plaid jackets, a champions' ring, a nifty Texas belt buckle, a giant check worth $1.098 million, and ... drumroll, please ... 1 million Priority Club Points from Crowne Plaza!!!

We'll leave the light on for ya, Phil.

Oops, wrong hotel.

A final four for the ages

I walked inside the ropes on the final four holes Sunday with Mickelson and Pampling, and I have to say it was an amazing hour for a golf fan.

I was greenside when Mickelson made a clutch par save on 15 to stay close. Then held my breath as Hot Rod answered with a par save from a deep bunker on 16.

Pampling hit into a creek on 17 -- maybe he was possessed by my golf swing; he is my evil twin, after all.

But then he escaped from the trees and a plugged lie in the bunker to save bogey. I loved the way Pampling kept blowing on his fingers like a riverboat gambler before he hit those shots. (He's officially one of my favorite players now, no matter who he looks like.)

And then, of course, Mickelson did his Houdini act on 18 from under the trees and sunk the winning putt. It doesn't get much more dramatic than that.

I spoke to a Colonial member on the green after the trophy presentation, and he was still shaking his head: "There's no way he makes that shot. ... We're over there all the time, and you just can't make it outta there. The space between the trees is like this," he said, holding his hands about a foot apart.

"I ordered another drink getting ready for the playoff."

Guess he can use it to toast to a fantastic finish.

Overheard near the 17th green

"C'mon Phyllis, hit the ball!"

Bet that guy felt like an idiot on 18, when Mickelson hit an otherworldly shot from the trees and sunk the putt.

The rock stars you meet at Colonial

Chris Burney is best known as gonzo guitarist for Denton's Grammy-nominated rock band Bowling For Soup.

But he's also a big-time golfer and fan. He was in the massive gallery watching Phil Mickelson on Sunday, which also happened to be Burney's 39th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Big Guy. Rock on.

P.S. I bowled with Bowling for Soup awhile back for a story, and the irony is that none of them are great bowlers (or golfers). Burney and the boys would say beer drinking is by far their best sport -- which makes them feel right at home at Colonial.