![]() So I was thrilled to get a hug from Ryan that said, “It’s so nice to see you.” I apologized profusely for the amount of crap in my golf bag, which included weeks-old snacks, someone else’s water bottle, two foam Nathan‘s hot dogs I had procured during my travels, a couple fistfuls of used balls and other accouterments. In fact, I don’t give out hugs to just anyone anymore, as I prefer full eye contact and firm handshakes at the end of a round, unless we really are friends. I am a sucker for a good hug, having been on the wrong end of fake hugs for the entirety of my career. I squealed in delight when I found my credential nestled in the mess of my bag and scurried over to give a hug to Ryan, a guy I’ve known of for years but had never met. I was very much head-down, ass-up, pilfering through my golf bag in search of my credential when I saw Ryan’s head bobbing around in search of me. I considered it a damned miracle that my belongings and I had made it in time to play in the Monday pro-am, as I had spent the night in Charlotte (with a free hotel room and transportation, courtesy of American Airlines) and was rebooked on a different flight from the one for which my bags were tagged. Having just finished four days of PGA Tour Live commentary at the John Deere Classic, I caught a flight to Charlotte, only to discover my connecting flight was a jumbled mess of your standard fare of overworked airport workers, crews that were stuck in other parts of the country and a predictable anger in the sky, resulting in thunderstorms and canceled flights. It was a sight for sore eyes, as I had just busted my ass getting from the Detroit airport after a disconcerting 12 hours without my babies. I popped the trunk of my rental car and pulled out my golf club carrier. ![]() I sweet-talked my way into the players’ lot and texted my caddie for the week, Ryan French, to tell him I was pulling up. ![]() My credential was nowhere to be found, but having played for 20 years in what is now the Dana Open, it’s safe to say I have a good rapport with a number of staff and volunteers at the event outside Toledo, Ohio. It was Monday, just before noon, when I screeched onto the property at Highland Meadows Golf Club, my hair still wet from the quick shower I had squeezed in after checking into my Airbnb for the week. ![]()
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