The US PGA Championship
About The Oakland Hills South Course, 2008's US PGA venue:
The course is playing the players instead of the players playing the course.
I am glad to have brought this monster to its knees.
I don't want to make it a lady's course, but I don't want every hole to play like the last one I'm ever going to play.
About the tournament:
You always have butterflies in you stomach, but these butterflies are playing hockey.
Which one of you is going to be runner-up?
At one time I had fifteen clubs. When we left the fifth green, Nicklaus couldn't find his putter. He had put it in my bag. I told him I'd take the two-shot penalty if he didn't use the putter for the rest of the round.
Fairways and greens, Cuz.
I'm searching for the perfect swing. I'm searching for something that's not there. I tried twetny different things today and nobody else out there would have done that. This game is too tough. If I'd have known, I'd have taken up tennis or something. I have a chance. But if you're a betting guy don't bet on me.
I was scared to death of that rough. I was very fortunate when I did miss a fairway. I never thought I'd be glad to see a fairway bunker.
The knack for scoring can go at any moment. It can go while you're walking from the second green to the third tee. But it's like worrying about an atom bomb hitting you. You can't worry about it.
You can describe my round as having moments of ecstasy and stark raving terror. I looked like I knew what I was doing at times and at other times I looked like a twenty handicap player.
I knew I was going to make that putt. Why miss it after I'd gone to all that trouble to get there?
I've never to this day doubted that such luck could happen but having Gene's ball jump back through a fence and be found teed up could have resulted only from the hand of the Good Lord or one of those red-sweatered caddies roaming the course.
It was like a game of 'gotchas'. I stood over the ball and thought: "Who's going to grab me next?" I can't play that way. I'm not looking forward to going out tomorrow.
The hell with demonstrators. This big cop bothered me. He looks at one hole and says he doesn't like the look of the crowd on the left of the green. Could I knock the ball over to the right hand side?
I'm the kind of player who makes eye contact with fans during a round and with this hat I don't get distracted. It helps me with my concentration.
One of my attributes is that when I get ahead, I seldom fold . The trouble is I don't get in the lead often enough.
I scored well enough to win, but JD ran the tables on the greens. He made a hundred and fifty feet of putts. But I can't complain. I did the same thing the first three days.
Now that Arnold's become a member of the club, he's beginning to play like one.
I feel like a villain. They don't come any finer than Gene Littler. I almost wished that someone else was out there. He's someone I like and look up to. At this point in his career it would have meant an awful lot to him.
I was playing with a man I loathe playing with. There I was in a twosome with him, just me and him, for eighteen holes. There couldn't have been four words between us. He's getting old and his nerves are gone but I don't feel sorry for him because he shouldn't be out there.
When I drive into the rough, let me not blame the club - maybe I am the sinner and need more discipline. If, by pure luck, I make a hole in one, let me not boast but think of all the exercise I missed. And finally teach me that the way I play golf, I would be better of in church on Sunday.