The Kingpins of Cowtown

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.

Being inside the ropes is a surreal feeling ...

... particularly with my look-alike leading the tournament. It's as if I'm watching myself play golf -- with the exception of the monster drives in the fairway, the snazzy clothes and the birdie putts.

I'm an outside the ropes kind a guy. If you've been reading this blog the last four days you know that. But I  must confess it is pretty cool walking a few feet away from the players and being able to crouch down by the green and see the break in the putts.

It was also surreal getting a taste of what it would be like to have thousands of people watch me play golf. Come to think of it. That's my worst nightmare. Along with being trapped in the gorilla habitat at the Fort Worth Zoo -- naked.

Overheard in the 5th fairway

"It's like looking into the sun..."

-- Brooke Bowers, a Shot Linker with a wicked pair of binoculars, said Sunday when scoping out Stephen Ames' and his freakishly gleaming choppers.

He hasn't had much to smile about today, but damn his tan and teeth are lookin' fine.

Rod's ringing up birdies

You'll never guess what started Rod Pampling's run of birdies. OK, I'll tell you.

A cell phone ring.

That's right. As he was lining up to putt on No. 6, a cell phone went off right behind me (I swear it wasn't mine!) He backed off, stared daggers in my direction, and then said "cell phones off, please."

Then he sunk a 48-footer.

Maybe someone should cough in his backswing next time...

Rooting for Rod: What a lonely feeling

I met the three guys who are rooting for Rod Pamping. ... Nice fellas.

Whatever happened to pulling for the underdog?

Don't look now, but my doppleganger has a two-stroke lead after making birdie on 3 of the last 4 holes. And you'll never guess who's been walking inside the ropes with him.

That's right, your friendly neighborhood Kingpin. If he wins this thing, I am so going to be in those Crowne Plaza look-alike commercials next year.

Squeeze, Please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All sense of decorum has been lost out at 13. Two of my fellow S-T scribes have just arrived back at the media tent, and they are emotionally shaken. Apparently, they were victims of a drive-by gas attack.

Near the 14th fairway, a very drunk fan ripped one right down the middle, and I'm not talking about his drive. Course officials had warned us it would be windy out here, but we were unprepared for this kind of hazardous weather.

The least he could've done was yell FORE! And where was the marshal to hold up the "Squeeze Please" sign?!?

Geez, it's a jungle out here.

Rod Pampling is my evil twin

You can bet that I'll be stealing that winner's check and signing autographs if Hot Rod wins today.

An ode to Hogan

Jonathon Espinosa, 14, paid tribute to the greats of golf Sunday with his old-school hat. He plays every weekend, and is a member of the First Tee Foundation. He says not only does this stylish lid remind of him of players like Ben Hogan, but it also "blocks out everything" when you play.

Maybe Phil Mickelson should try one today.

Arriving in style

Hey, it is Sunday at Colonial ....

Souvenir Sunday at Colonial

Prices are being slashed in the PGA Superstore Tent. They've gone from Are You Out of Your Freakin' Mind to Utterly Ridiculous.

By 6 p.m., you might find a shirt you can afford.

Overheard in the bleachers at the 9th green

"Uh, uh, OOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

The players who went out early were getting greedy, taking dead aim at the front pin on 9, only a few paces onto the green. At least six had taken a swim by 9:30 a.m.

Anybody need a parking space ... cheap?

One of the many perks of being a past Colonial champion -- in addition to the always elegant plaid jacket -- is a free parking space right near the clubhouse door.

I happen to know of at least one that's empty today. Sorry, Rory.

Olin Browne's is available, too. He was leaving as Phil Mickelson was pulling in at 11:30.

One more funny moment from the parking lot:

Phil pulled his GMC Yukon into his spot and was corralled immediately for an interview. His caddy, "Bones," was getting the bag out of the back and accidentally set off the car alarm.

It interrupted the interview, but it also sent out the signal to Colonial that man of the hour had arrived.

My moment of zen

The masses following Mickelson had rushed to the green at the par-3 16th, but I found a quiet spot under a tree on the rockwall between 15 and 16. I took a deep breath, soaked in a breeze and let my feet dangle over the water as Phil hit his tee shot.

It was one of those Priceless moments ...

until my pen fell in the creek.

The seedier signs of life at Colonial

There's something to be said for knowing your audience, and these signs suggest there's a wild side to Colonial fans.

-- A prop plane that nearly buzzed the MetLife blimp was pulling a sign that read: "Baby Dolls Free Admission W/ Ticket." Later, I saw another for "The Men's Club: No Cover"

-- In somebody's yard across from the clubhouse, there's a homemade sign that reads: "Park & Crawl. $30" That's a mark-up from Thursday when it was $25. Can you say $35 on Sunday?

Random act of kindness: Phil edition

In the midst of his fabulous back 9 Saturday, Phil Mickelson took a second and gave Noah Peters a memory that will last a lifetime.

After making birdie from the fairway bunker on No. 14 -- a phenomenal shot that cozied up close to the flag -- Phil flipped his Callaway to Noah, a 9-year-old from Burleson who had just arrived at Colonial for the first time a few hours earlier.

"He's a lefty, too," proud papa Mark said of Noah. "Maybe you'll give some kid a ball someday."

Noah, sporting a kool-aid mustache, smiled wide.

If you believe in karma, then you probably know that Mickelson birdied the next hole and retook the lead. 

(P.S. The woman in the photo is a Phil foot soldier who was so excited for Noah that she wanted to get her picture taken with him.)

Random act of kindness: Patron edition

Late in the afternoon Saturday, a generous woman noticed a weary volunteer letting people cross the 18th fairway. She asked if he was allowed to have a beer. He didn't say no, so she gave him her nearly untouched Bud in the flashy silver aluminum bottle.

It was sweet. I suppose she could've been flirting with him -- there's a lot of that going on out here -- but at $5.50 a Bud, I think she was just being nice. 

Sizzlin' burgers and sweet potato fries

Lots of average and overpriced food to be had at Colonial -- just like any pro sports venue, really.

But among the ordinary culinary choices, there are a couple of tasty treats -- like the sweet potato fries in the margarita tent along 10. They're only 3 bucks, and they're pretty freakin' awesome. Thanks to the Arlington High orchestra kids, who are cookin' them up right.

And that great smell that's wafting into the stands at No. 13 is the burgers that Chris Chamberlain and his fellow Lamar H.S. Volleyball parents are flippin' all day in the blazin' heat. I bellied up to the grill to interview Chris, principal at Miller Elementary in Arlington, who estimated he'll sweat off about five pounds during the day and flip 500-600 burgers (at $6 a pop).

What's his secret? "Hold your breath and squint," joked Chamberlain, who added "I think my days as a carnivore are numbered. I never want to cook out again."

It's all for a good cause, though. His daughter's on the Lamar volleyball team, and the coach estimated they'll raise more than $10,000 this week. (Chamberlain deserves at least a few of those $9.50, 16-ounce margaritas as payment.) 

Stylin' on the Veranda at 13

Colonial can be a bit of a fashion show, with the styles running from trampy to tres chic.

Sally Row and her hubby, Max, were lookin' mighty fine sitting on the Veranda at the par-3 13th. As you might have guessed, Sally started thinking of her outfit about two days ago, and Max? "About 10 minutes before we left the house," Sally said.

"But she did make me take my shorts to the cleaners," Max added.

Sally's ensemble included a pewter and pu-pu mustard colored sun dress, with perfectly accented pewter bracelet, both from Spoiled Pink, a cute shop on Camp Bowie, Sally said.

The fabulously fringy hat is from DSW, purchased a couple of years ago. Sally jazzed it up with the scarf and Ray Bans.

And completing her head-to-toe style: shoes with dainty little pompons from Steinmart, one of my favorite places to shop.

Max joked that the little dangling balls reminded him of something you'd find in a lowrider car. Add some fuzzy dice earrings and we're golden.

Cowtown caddies rule

James Edmonson is a two-time club champion at Colonial, which makes him an ace in the hole for his buddy and PGA pro Ryan Palmer.

At No. 13, Edmonson won the caddy race after dropping Palmer's bag, getting in a runner's stance and outsprinting Jason Bohn's caddy to the green.

A few minutes later, Palmer sunk his putt for bird.

Tiger's here! Virtually, anyway

Who needs real golf? You can play Tiger Woods Golf in the Margaritaville tent. And if you're a veteran, you can play Wi golf in the USO chalet near the 15th fairway.

Oh, baby these ladies are shady

These lovely ladies found a shady spot along the 10th fairway to do some people watching.

Pretty smart for an 8-month-old, huh?

Colonial leaning toward the Leftys

Don't look now, Phil, but another lefty is right on your heels. Mike Weir is five under on the front nine this morning.

The Cleavage Invitational at Colonial: an update

After a very buttoned-up start Thursday, there were ample opportunities to see some decolletage Friday afternoon, when Colonial felt more like South Beach than Cowtown.

Best viewing areas (not for golf) are The Champions Club patio, Margaritaville and of course No. 13.

Can't wait to see what Saturday afternoon will bring.

An officially tough job

Don't bother John Mutch Jr. He's on the job from dusk till dawn at Colonial this week, always at the ready to deliver an official ruling.

Like on Friday, when Tim Clark's ball went into the water on No. 15. Clark dropped his ball, but it was still close to the rockwall so he called for a ruling. Clark didn't get any breaks from Mutch, a PGA Tour rules official, who decided that although Clark's stance was still inside the hazard line; the ball wasn't. The rule states that the player isn't entitled to another drop.

Tough luck, Timmy! Hit it where it lies.

If you watch golf on TV, you'll see Mutch and his ruling class brethren come into the picture usually when a PGA pro is in trouble. In the woods, near a sprinkler head, etc.

Mutch, who is in his ninth year on tour, was thumbing through the 555-page rule book when I stopped to bug him Friday near the 16th hole. "This is our office for week," said Mutch, who was dressed very officially in a blue buttoned-down shirt, PGA hat and sunglasses.

The life of a PGA rules officials isn't an easy one.  Mutch says he's on the road 30 weeks a year. And he goes to Rules School every year. But he does get to play some of the great courses on tour, like Augusta.

Bet nobody cheats in his foursome.

Hats off to a Colonial first-timer

I love a kid with a funky lid.

As I was making my way past the putting greens Saturday morning, there was 9-year-old Austin Emery in his Golf Fanatic hat, complete with ball and 19th hole flag on top.

Austin was pretty stoked about attending his first pro golf tournament with his dad, Jess, who got him the hat. They play golf together quite a bit in Justin, where Austin is already making a name for himself with nearly 200-yard drives.

Next stop, the PGA Tour.

Heading for home, 8.5 mpg at a time

Colonial has made a big push to Go Green this year, from the more visible recycling program to the cool kayak valet parking on the Trinity River.

But I guess Cadillac didn't get the memo. The courtesy cars that are shuttling VIPs back and forth to the course (including me!) are getting about 8.5 miles per gallon, according to my friendly driver. She said that it's partly because she has to drive "like a soccer mom." And partly because she's making about 80 round trips back and forth to Colonial from a lot by Amon Carter Stadium.

Word is the players get Cadillac Escalade hybrids to use for the week. I bet those babies, which aren't even available to public yet, get at least 15 mpg.

An ace in the hole

Some dude named Dustin Johnson just made a hole in one on 13, the Party Hole, and moved to even par. Might be the difference between making some coin and going home early.

He's made the cut in about half the tournaments he's played in this year -- and has earned nearly half a million dollars.

Don't you wish you were a PGA player, too.

I am the Baby Walrus: koo, koo, ka whew!

My favorite moment of irony Friday came on the 15th tee.

Kevin Stadler, who should've been flagged for unnecessary club abuse, had just made an ugly bogey on 14 when he dropped his putter and dragged his drenched, pear-shaped body to the next teebox, muttering all the way.

As he and playing partner Ken Duke -- who double-bogeyed No. 13 -- were getting ready to hit, a cart piled high with garbage came barreling down the path. Marshals couldn't stop it.

Neither could the players, I guess.  Duke shot 4-over and missed the cut.

Stadler, aka The Baby Walrus, finished at +1. 

 

Happy hour at the Party Hole

Welcome to No. 13 at Colonial, the Land of Silicone, Cell Phones and Strategically Placed Sweat Beads.

I'm told that there's a golf hole here, but you'd be hard-pressed to find it through the throngs of semi-beautiful people standing at cocktail tables swiggin' Buds in aluminum bottles for $5.50 a pop. (That's about as much as a whole six-pack! Or 1.7 gallons of gas!!)

I actually heard one neanderthal say: "She's got a pair of cans on her!"

And I don't think he was talking about beer; they only sell bottles here.

Overheard at the 11th green

"He looks a lot fatter on TV..."

It's a cliche, but it's true: television adds 10 pounds. Some players benefit from that. Like Nick O'Hern.

He was standing sideways on the putting green Friday, and I'd swear his putter had more girth.

But for guys like Phil, Lumpy and Jason Gore -- the Jelly Roll Gang -- TV doesn't do them any favors. Hence the stylish all black outfit with tan shoulders for Phil today.   

Sabbatini may be going home early

Defending champ Rory Sabbatini -- Sabo to his friends -- may not be around for the weekend. He struggled both days, and finished at 4-over 144. That's probably not gonna cut it. Then again, he doesn't have far to go. He lives in Fort Worth now.

But hope sprung eternal Friday afternoon as Team Sabo -- led by wife Amy, watched him finish up.

After a brutal round, Rory made the shot of the day, holing out from 150 yards on No. 5 for eagle. And then he sunk a birdie on No. 9, his last hole (maybe of the tournament). "That made the whole day salvagable."

As Team Sabo was leaving the 9th green, Amy got a text message and laughed: 'These people are wanting tickets for the weekend ... we won't even be here. 'Find your own way in!' "

Christie Byrd, a faithful member of Team Sabo, aka Rory's Rowdy Roadies (that's her in the photo on the right), said there's still a chance to make the cut. "We'll be hoping for lots of wind this afternoon." She says Rory befriended her brother, Chris Meyers, when he was playing golf at Southlake Carroll. Chris is now playing on the Adams Tour.  "(Rory's) such a genuinely nice guy," she said. "He's done so much for my brother."

Some things are more important than making the cut.

Wetterich wets himself again

Poor Brett Wetterich is becoming this week's aquaman. He spun back his approach shot on 9 into the water and made bogey. Mr. Wet-terich dunked one on 13 and made triple bogey in the morning. He ended the day at 6-over 76. Guess where most of those extra shots came from.

Looks like he'll make the cut at -1, but better bring the scuba gear Saturday.

The Playmaker makes the Colonial scene

Dallas Cowboys Hall of Famer Michael Irvin is here! At the 19th hole, of course.

He and Kevin Kiley are doing their ESPN 103.3 radio show from the margarita tent just off the 10th fairway. But they're not talkin' golf at the moment. Michael had just gotten on the phone with the attorney for Pacman Jones, who is making headlines for the wrong reasons -- again.

I'd rather talk golf.

More Mickelson possibilities

It was pretty empty out here this morning, except for the throngs following Phil, who's got it to 7-under.

Here are a few more possiblities for Arnie's Army type monikers:

Philly's Fanatics: My favorite so far.

The Clydesdales: In honor Mickelson's distinctive lope. (John Senden's dad gave me that one.)

Phil's got size 13 clodhoppers, and he uses every inch of them.

Overheard near the 16th green

"Shouldn't you be in school today?"

Playing through the pain

Pro golfers, like bowlers, get a bad rap among athletes because theirs is not a contact sport. And that's totally fair.

But don't put that on Colonial volunteers, who know what it's like to play through injury. Consider Karen Felker, who keeps those Shot Link numbers coming from the 17th fairway despite hobbling around on crutches with a broken foot. You can't miss her; she's the one with the bright orange Texas Longhorn cast.

What's worse, Karen's mishap was caused by her Shot Link partner, Eric Tom. "He threw me out of the golf cart," she said.

I thought she was joking, but a contrite Tom confessed that he did, in fact, do the deed.

These "golfing buddies" were playing about five weeks ago at the Resort at Eagle Mountain Lake when one of Eric's playing partner asked him for a GPS reading on his ball. Eric made a sharp left and Karen "didn't make it."

She flew out of the cart and landed on her feet, unfortunately, because she sustained a hairline fracture. Doctors put a screw in her left foot, and she'll get her cast off next week, and then have to wear a boot for two. She's a got a granddaughter on the way in late June, so she's ready to be back at full speed.

When asked if she considered skipping the Colonial, she said resolutely: "No way."

As for Eric, a near-scratch golfer, he's still dealing with the emotional fallout. "I'm so guilt-ridden right now, my game is suffering."   

Puttinng the wet in Wetterich

If you're a pro golfer with "Wet" in your name, seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy that you'd hit the ball in the lake on the toughest water hole at Colonial.

That's just what Brett Wetterich did Friday morning, plunking one in the drink at the 13th hole. Then he 3-putted and limped away with a soggy triple bogey 6 at the par 3.

Even worse, the crowd had to watch the debacle stone cold sober. The drink tents at 13, aka The Party Hole, don't open till 11 a.m.

 

My Colonial wardrobe malfunction

Day 2 started with a mishap of epic proportions. (OK, maybe not epic.)

My fly broke.

What do you do when your following Phil on the back 9 and your front nine is exposed? I pulled my shirt down and double-timed it to the PGA Superstore tent, hoping to find a replacement pair of shorts. But the only shorts I could find were Greg Norman brand for 48 bucks.

The Shark barely even plays anymore; no way I'm paying 50 bucks for his shorts.

Anybody got a safety pin?

I'm off to join the Philistines

I've been trying to come up with a good nickname for the big crowds that follow Mickelson wherever he goes. So far, I just haven't come up with anything as catchy as Arnie's Army.

Here are some of my rejected suggestions so far:

Phil's Followers (Too David Koresh)

MIckelson's Mob (Too Tony Soprano)

The Philistines (Too biblical)

Phil 'n' the Blanks (A little too mean)

Lefty's Legion of Doom (OK, he hasn't earned superhero status yet.)

Any and all suggestions are greatly appreciated. I'm gonna try to catch up with the Philistines!

Just doesn't work, does it?

Now that's hot

Navy Commander Jeff Fujisaka was waiting with his Sharpie and Colonial Flag near the 18th green, collecting autographs -- in a flight suit.

When I asked him why he was in uniform at a golf tournament on a very hot day, he said: "I'm here in official capacity."

Which is? "We need some decoration for the officers' club."

I'm on the leaderboard!

All around Colonial, they've got supercool electronic scoreboards designed to give you an up-close-and-personal look at the players. I swear I got a glimpse of Charley Hoffman's nosehair on No. 8.

So why do they still have the old-fashioned scoreboards that have to be changed manually, I wondered?

"It's tradition," Mark Williams told me.

Along with his buddies, Mike and Dave, Mark mans the leaderboard behind the sixth tee, where they see some pretty long faces, because the pros have just come through the dreaded Horrible Horseshoe.  "They usually do look up at the board here," he said.

Mark, who grew up in Fort Worth but now lives in Bosier City, La., has been on the boards at Colonial for 10 years. "It's a family tradition now," he said. He and his brother make it a golf week. They play golf Monday and Tuesday, and then they take their posts at No. 6 for a fun, but grueling five days.

Is there a lot of pressure changing those numbers? I always wondered, so Mark said I could give it a try. I scaled the green iron ladder and helped Mike and Dave move Matt Goggin up the leaderboard. I'm glad to report, no screw-ups. And the view was awesome.

In an era where technological advances have brought us great advances like Shot Link and those digital scoreboards, I'm glad the old-fashioned board is still going strong at Colonial.

Sister act

I'm always on the lookout for things that sparkle: beautiful eyes, a baby's smile or a freshly cleaned six-iron.

Krista Manning obliged and let me take a picture of her shiny chapeau right by the first green Thursday. That's Krista, a former OU golfer, with her sister Kimberly Bergen.

Raymie Jade also caught my gaze because, well, she's a toddler at a golf tournament. At 15 months old, she was a perfect little lady when the players were teeing off. ... And if she wasn't, Mom Rachel slipped a pink pacifier in her mouth just in time. Raymie was nice enough to offer me one of her Skittles. What a sweetie!

The Cleavage Invitational at Colonial

As the self-appointed, (overly) observant on-course cleavage reporter, I will be offering periodic updates on the decolletage in the Colonial galleries.

As of 2 p.m. Thursday, I'm sad to report that things are downright Puritanical.

Here's hoping we see scores -- and necklines -- plunging as we head toward the weekend.

The day after playing with Phil

Ran into Peter Hui, who was one of the ams in Phil's pro-am group yesterday. So, how was it playing with him?

"I'm still floating."

Johnson Wagner's winning

Isn't that a paint company?

Range roving and oggling

I was following the morning's glamour group of Jim Furyk, Justin Leonard and Anthony Kim, but I was so bored I veered off to check out the east end of the driving range just to keep from falling asleep.

As I watched Ted Purdy launch rocket drives into the atmosphere, a shaggy caddy who looked like Johnny Fever from WKRP came up to me and said, "Look at those legs."

To which I replied: "Thanks a lot, man."

Made my day. (My wife always said I've got killer calves.)

Free things I've found so far at Colonial

No. 3) Free views of the players teeing off on No. 2 and No. 4. Looks like someone trimmed the hedge just perfectly for freeloaders walking along Colonial Dr.

No. 2) Jet black hat, courtesy of Cadillac. Because that's the color you want to be wearing in 80-degree heat. They were giving them away right outside the Champions' Club, where the drinking doesn't officially begin till 10, but people were lining up before then. That's hard-core.

And the No. 1 Free Thing I've Found So Far:

Get your picture taken with Phil Mickelson!!!

At the Crowne Plaza Lobby near the fans' entrance, you can step in and have your photo taken and then Photoshopped into a lovely portrait of you and Mr. Mickelson by the 18th green. Looks real, huh. Except I'm taller. I had to resist trying to pick Phil's nose, or making an obscene gestures. One of the ladies in line with me said she was gonna give him a goose.

If you do get your picture taken with Phil, make sure and say hi to Michael Preston, who will be working all four days at the Free Phil Photo booth. Poor guy has listen to those Crowne Plaza Mickelson commercials running on a loop.

By Sunday, he'll be ready to kill Phil.

Opening shots at Colonial

And they're off!

-- My buddy Ben Curtis is back -- and wearing Cowboys colors this time around. Call him Cowboy Curtis. Last year he wore Texans' gear, giving some kinda lame excuse that the Cowboys wouldn't let him wear their stuff. Wonder what changed? I'll find out. Sure, it'll get him a few more fans in these parts, but he'll get no love from me. BTW, he's -2 through five holes.

-- I got dropped off at the clubhouse this morning in a cherry red Cadillac. Not bad, huh? But then I noticed the black one that said "Mr Hogan's Cadillac." Very cool, and a little eerie. Apparently, Marty Leonard -- of the famed Colonial/Fort Worth Leonards -- owns the Cadillac Broughton that Ben Hogan used to drive back and forth to Shady Oaks in his final years. A volunteer even told me Leonard found an ashtray full of cigarettes when she first acquired the Caddy from Hogan's sister. Hogan loved him some nicotine sticks.

The '70s era Cadillac is in front of the clubhouse every year, but this is the first time I noticed it. Pretty cool tribute, I think.

Playing with the Big Stallion

There was at least one pro-am group that created as big a stir as Mickelson's on Wednesday.

You guessed it: Black Stallion Zimmerman and his merry band of drunken hackers.

Turns out The Stallion is no porn star -- he's a developer and Colonial member -- but he was the self-annointed rock star Wednesday. His polka dot pants and pink shirt were so bright, people had to shade their eyes as he strode past. (Or were they simply averting their eyes because he was making such a fool of himself?)

It took their group three hours to play the front nine. PGA player John Senden seemed to be making the best of situation so ridiculous, even a professional golfer might have to laugh. I walked with Senden's dad, Jerry, a generous bloke from Queensland, and he said John was taking the fairway frat party in stride.

"He's totally relaxed. He's been laughin' all day," Jerry said. "But this is longest bloody nine I've ever seen."

Zimmerman was the ringleader, for sure, but his playing buddies were decked out in acid flashback pants, too, and swiggin' vodka at nearly the same rate.

I'll admit that Zimmerman's gang made me laugh. And in general, I think pro golfers are way too stuffy; they should all have to play a round with these jokers. But after six-plus hours in 90-degree heat, I think I'd be ready to push The Big Stallion into Crampton's Lake.

Better yet, he'd probably fall in.

Playing with Phil Mickelson

For the hackers playing Wednesday, the biggest fish they could possibly land was Phil Mickelson -- Mr. No 2 in the World, Mr. I'm the Star of those Funny Crowne Plaza Invitational Commercials, Mr. I Actually Smile at the Crowd and Live to Tell About It.

You know, that Phil Mickelson.

So I couldn't resist chatting up the entourages of the amateurs in Phil's pro-am group. Ed Faneui flew in from Boston to watch his son, Jesse, 27, play and was practically beaming on No. 16 when Jesse tapped in for par -- just like Phil.

"He was speechless when he found out last night that he'd be playing with Phil," Ed said, adding that his son is a 20 handicapper who could be a 14. So what was the best moment? "Hearing his name announced on the first tee." And watching Jesse and Phil joke around as they tromped up the fairways. "That's worth a million bucks," Ed said.

Cloris Hui said her husband, Peter, is a 17 handicap, and came all the way from Huntington Beach, Calif., to play in the Colonial pro-am. Playing with Mickelson was amazing, considering it is Peter's first pro-am ever, she said.

And when Brandon Baron found out he'd be playing with Phil, "he though it was a mistake," said his wife, Rachel. "He could sleep through a hurricane, but he couldn't sleep last night."

Even when Brandon air-mailed the green from the front bunker on 18, there were smiles all around from the amateurs and the pro. 

p.s That's Ed and Cloris in the photo at right.

Overheard on the 10th tee...

Too R-rated for this blog, but I'll give you a hint:

It rhymes with lock trucker.

(The crowd roared. So much for golf claps.)

Cute couple, part 1

I'm always intrigued by men who can persuade their wives or girlfriends to accompany them to a golf tournament.

I noticed Ron Woolf and Natasha Hawes first when they were perched in the bleachers at 18, and later and the par 3 eight hole. Both times I bothered them to tell me their story.

Ron, who lives in Bedford, has been coming to Colonial since he was in seventh grade. Wednesday was Natasha's first time. They were oh, so cute in their matching powder blue shirts (and mine made three; is that a trend?)

Ron works for Bell Helicopter, Natasha works for Abbott Labs, and they met coaching their kids' soccer teams. She's a beginning golfer, and he's a 20 handicapper. At first, they were a bit coy about the state of their relationship, but when I did my journalistic duty and dug deeper, Natasha allowed that they might be more than "friends."

At which point I realized I was intruding on their date and did my best Chuck Woolery, and said I'd be back in 2-and-2. Here's hoping they make a Love Connection. It wouldn't be the first at Colonial.

It's Pat. No, not that one. Pat Green!

Imagine being Pat Perez, professional golfer, teeing it up at the Colonial pro-am on Wednesday, and you are the least well-known Pat in your fivesome by a long shot.

Perez was way overshadowed by Pat Green, the country star/frat boy/kick-butt amateur golfer who also happens to live right here in Cowtown. When the crowds moved in for autographs, the motherlode flocked to Green, who could be mistake for a pro because he hits it almost as far.

Now if he could just putt.