Safe to say, it probably played on an endless mental loop for a while. Standing directly behind Garcia in the damp chill at Carnoustie last July, I had time to think that Sergio had finally won a major championship as the ball rolled toward the hole. It looked that good.

And then, the way golf does, the hole moved out of the way and a gasp could be heard across Scotland and beyond.

An hour later, a disbelieving Padraig Harrington was kissing the Claret Jug and Garcia was blaming fate, luck, the grounds crew, the flagstick and seemingly everything else as the disappointment poured out of him, effectively dumping gasoline on his own pyre.

Garcia came across as childish and churlish but, given the moment, he was broken-hearted. With more time to absorb the disappointment, I'd like to think Sergio would have been more diplomatic.

There is a touch of Seve Ballesteros about Garcia, both the bright and the dark. Sergio isn't the artist his fellow Spaniard was but he has his own set of immense skills, including the priceless ability to hit fairways and greens.

While golf goes on without Tiger Woods for a while, this British Open at Royal Birkdale could be Sergio's moment. That would be a good thing, not just for him but for the sport as well.

There are some things you can't teach and sparkle is one of them.

Kenny Perry is the 47-year old feel-good story of this PGA Tour season, running down his dream of playing in the Ryder Cup in his home state of Kentucky. He's mapped an unconventional path, bypassing the U.S. and British Opens, and has played to his strengths.

But Perry doesn't sparkle. He's as nice as they come, a guy you'd probably love to call your friend.

Sergio sparkles. Since his hop, skip and a jump moment in the 1999 PGA Championship, Sergio has been a star. He has won seven tour events, probably fewer than expected, but no one anticipated Tiger swallowing up as many trophies as he has.

When Garcia won The Players Championship in May, it was an enormous victory. It wasn't a major championship, but it was a major moment for him. Sergio forced a playoff with Paul Goydos by holing one of those rattlesnake putts that have tormented him.

The U.S. Open at Torrey Pines could have been a lost cause for Garcia, who got off to a miserable start. Rather than tank it after an opening 76, Garcia kept grinding and wound up tied for 18th. It was a small thing but telling, nonetheless.

Sergio has played 35 professional major championships without winning, but he's flirted many times. He has second-place finishes in the British (2007) and the PGA (1999), a tie for the third in the U.S. Open (2005) and a tie for fourth in the Masters (2004).

Garcia is 28 now, young by most standards but you wonder if he's old by golf standards. He's been playing majors for a decade now and has the scars to prove it.

In his last three British Open starts, Garcia has not finished outside the top five. He has the gift of imagination, which is like a 15 {+t}{+h} club when dealing with the wind, the weather and the peculiar challenges of links golf.

Sergio also has a history with the Open Championship, so far, an unfulfilled history.

But, perhaps, not for long.

It's that feeling, out of nowhere, that comes as you're lining up a putt, letting you know that all you have to do is get the ball rolling and the hole will get in the way.

It's the thump of a well-played bunker shot.

It's nine holes late in the day, when the sun is sinking and the shadows are stretching, showing every bump and roll in a golden light that makes you stop and look around.

It's the Golf Channel on in the corner of the bar.

It's calling your shot and pulling it off.

It's the eighth hole at Grandfather, the third at Linville and the 14th at Balsam Mountain, paintings with a flagstick in the middle.

It's your Saturday morning game, with a little money on the line and no haggling about the teams.

It's the guys who look like they can't play a lick then spend their days around par, not needing swing coaches, just having a knack for getting the ball in the hole.

It's calling your own penalties.

It's a kid with his bag slung over his shoulder, cap pulled low, hoofing it down a fairway.

It's nipping a wedge just right, having it bounce once and cozy up to the hole the way Sergio does it.

It's a bowl of peanuts and a cold beer at the end of the day, when stories can be embellished, if only a little.

It's the warm feel of a turtleneck in December, the first greening of the grass in March, the thrill of hitting it a club longer in July and greens as fast as the kitchen floor in October.

It's the suntan marks left by your golf socks and shoes.

It's Harbour Town in April, Quail Hollow in May and Pinehurst any time.

It's having the sun behind you and catching a tee shot square, having a moment to admire it as it's framed against the sky.

It's the small but sudden thrill of finding a new Titleist, even if you already have a bagful.

It's the clutch in your throat the first time you see St. Andrews and the never-ending thrill of Amen Corner.

It's the belief that the magic you've found in a new driver will last forever.

It's the scent of salt air, the faint taste of pine pollen on your lips and the glimpse of a gator in a lowcountry lagoon.

It's standing over a 5-footer that doesn't matter to anyone but you and being thankful for the feeling.

It's Tiger on the tee, Mickelson with a wedge in his hand, Nicklaus on the property.

It's the little places with pickups in the parking lot, ragged grass, bumpy greens, worn-out golf carts, yellow range balls and a spirit all their own.

It's the way you practice your swing in the elevator riding down, the way you put an overlapping grip on the rake and the way you see golf holes where others just see fields along the highway.

It's the way tournament golf feels, even if it's just a little club event.

It's the feel of new grips and the shine of new irons.

It's playing with your father, your brother or your daughter.

It's listening to David Feherty, Johnny Miller and Nick Faldo explain the game as only they can.

It's the gentle creak of aging muscles in the evening, a good tired.

It's a birdie at the 18th to win the press.

It's having people who understand what's important, whether it's renovating a course or reinventing a local tournament.

It's going for a par-5 in two, trying to cut a corner and that instant when you wonder if the shot is as good as it looks.

It's golf.

And it's why we play.

Rocco Mediate didn't win the U.S. Open Monday at Torrey Pines, but he won the hearts.

Until his disappointing end on the 91th hole of a championship that was so close to being his, Mediate found out there's still plenty of game left in his 45-year-old body and he learned how it feels to play golf on a cloud.

Tiger Woods is a marvel. We figured that out years ago.

Mediate is just a Pittsburgh guy, who has a balky back and likes to talk.

Everywhere he went during the weekend and on Monday, cheers of “Rocco, Rocco, Rocco” could be heard around Torrey Pines. He had the time of his life.

A year ago when the Open was played at Oakmont Country Club, not far from where Mediate grew up, he didn't qualify. He played poker while others played golf.

For five often spectacular days at Torrey Pines, Mediate flirted with the biggest moment of his life and pushed Woods like few ever have.

“I'm disappointed a little that I didn't beat him,” Mediate said when it was over and Woods was posing with the trophy again. “I'm a little beat up.

“But I gave him the best I had and it was almost good enough. It wasn't quite good enough.”

Mediate said he didn't “want to get my butt handed to me” in the playoff, and he didn't.

He could have melted when he was three strokes behind Woods with eight holes remaining in the playoff but, instead, he made three consecutive birdies and flipped the advantage to himself.

For the second straight day, Mediate went to the 18th hole with a one-stroke lead over Woods. He made the mistake of hitting his tee shot into a fairway bunker Monday, not that he intended to go for the water-guarded par-5 green in two had he found the fairway.

Mediate had a 20-foot birdie putt to win the Open on the 18th green and thought to himself, “You've waited your whole life for this moment.” It gave him a thrill but not a victory.

When he absolutely had to make a birdie, he couldn't and it cost him. As Rocco kept saying, he forced Woods to do something – and, naturally, Tiger did. Mediate's career might be defined by this Open because it reminded us again of how good a guy he is and how capable a player he is when his back isn't forcing him to do television work or play professional poker.

“When he's healthy, he's a helluva player,” Woods said.

So is the man who beat him.

Mediate has seen enough that nothing Woods does surprises him anymore.

“It's like I say, ‘When I talk about golf, he doesn't count. He's not normal,'” Mediate said.

The trophy went to Woods.

But Rocco Mediate left with a smile on his face, too.

The U.S. Open is like a four-act play with an unscripted ending.

The dialogue is often a string of muttered obscenities spoken too softly for inquiring ears – like second-round leader Stuart Appleby walking off the fifth green after four-putting – with a little Tennessee Williams' angst for texture.

And, in the case of this U.S. Open, the staging is a brilliant combination of Pacific coastline, marine air and imagination.

For the first time in recent memory, the Open course, Torrey Pines South, has been set up to allow the potential for fun.

And, if you read between the bogeys on the scorecards, it has delivered the goods.

Having read through the 14 written points outlining the USGA's philosophy for its national championship, there is no commandment outlawing fun as if it's a 15 {+t}{+h} club.

This Open, which will reach a prime-time conclusion this evening (barring the dreaded notion of an 18-hole Monday playoff), has had a different feel from other Opens played recently. Oakmont, a splendid Open site, nevertheless offers all the fun of a migraine.

“It's awesome,” Geoff Ogilvy said of the set-up.

Flexibility has been built into the set-up like an elastic waistband.

Or like Phil Mickelson's ever-changing choice of clubs he carries. Lefty, who said he wouldn't use a driver this week unless it rained, must've counted the June gloom as drizzle because he put the big stick in the bag Saturday and hit it as crooked as he hit his 3-wood the first two days.

At least he carried four wedges. One for every shot he spun off the 13 {+t}{+h} green in making a nine.

In a seismic shift that might have some old-line USGA blue coats shuddering, some holes have been set up to encourage players to make birdies. The par-5 18 {+t}{+h} is a prime example, offering the hope that someone might win the Open today with a birdie at the last hole rather than inheriting it through someone else's failure.

Mike Davis, the set director at the Open, has done a masterful job. He has achieved the difficult and delicate task of making the Open's inevitable pain more tolerable. He should consider it a compliment that no one has said this is the toughest Open test they have ever seen.

Still, bogeys have piled up like campaign promises. Ogilvy said one of the challenges is understanding that you can play well and still make bogeys.

He is reminded of a message he received two years ago from Judy Rankin, who told him that every year people open the paper on the Monday after the Open and they're surprised by how high the winning score was. The moral being you must keep grinding.

As it marches toward a conclusion, this Open has given us a variety of characters. It started with Kevin Streelman and Justin Hicks, two essentially unknown pros, who filled the annual role of first-day surprise. On cue, both exited the stage Friday afternoon.

We have seen the ghosts of Ernie Els and Davis Love III at Torrey Pines, reappearing on a stage that befits their legacies.

Rocco Mediate has turned a cameo into a leading role, Stuart Appleby looks perfect for the place with his surfer-dude style and at least two European players – Lee Westwood and the coolest cat of them all, Miguel Angel Jiminez – have taken up the quest to become the first European since Tony Jacklin in 1970 to win the Open.

Still, the stage belongs to Tiger Woods, as it seemingly always does. He's Olivier in golf spikes and he owns our attention.

The final act comes today. Raise the curtain.

The seemingly forever-young Davis Love III is 44 now, with a surgically repaired ankle that requires nightly ice bags and a career that is one more major moment away from being complete.

There is a chance – and the odds are admittedly long – that moment could come this weekend now that Love has played his way into the storyline of this U.S. Open at Torrey Pines.

There are those who long ago dispatched Davis to the place where falling stars gather dust while waiting for their careers to be reenergized by their 50 {+t}{+h} birthdays. The court of public opinion, at least among the cynics, has convicted Love of underachievement, a charge he doesn't totally deny.

He has won 19 PGA Tour events but only one in the past five years, a victory at Greensboro in 2006 against a field in which he was the biggest star.

Love, who was born in Charlotte, has a wonderful life in Sea Island, Ga., looks nice in the Polo outfits he models in magazines and has an artist's touch in his growing course-design business.

But he has reached that point where golf doesn't come with any more guarantees. Love sat home in April while the Masters went on without him, and it ached.

“If I win the U.S. Open, it doesn't make up for missing the Masters, it just means I'm in the Masters the next few years,” said Love.

Love has been left off the most recent Ryder Cup and Presidents Cup teams, another stinging disappointment to a guy's guy who loves the camaraderie perhaps more than the competition.

For what he thinks was the first time since his daughter, Lexie, was born 20 years ago, Love had to qualify to play in this U.S. Open, his automatic entry having expired because of a string of indifferent efforts. The fact that Love went 36 holes in Columbus, Ohio, to earn a spot here this week disputes the suggestion that his desire has waned.

Working his way around Torrey Pines Friday morning as the marine layer cast the place under a gray light, Love holed a couple of confidence-building par putts early in his round to calm the spirits. As his day went on, Love – dressed in red, white and blue – found a bit of his old magic making three straight birdies to produce a 2-under par 69 to go with his opening 72.

It made the tedious days of rehab last winter seem more worthwhile. Love, you may remember, stepped into a hole while playing a casual round last fall and required ankle surgery that kept him off the golf course for almost as long as it kept him off his snowboards.

He's a guy who doesn't always fit his image as a classic country club guy. He rides motorcycles, loves turkey hunting and watches hockey. Love said his mother, Penta, still doesn't fully believe he hurt his foot walking down a fairway.

Love has done the physical work to get back but quieting the noise between his ears has been the larger challenge, even before he stepped in a hole.

“Once you get physically healthy, then you have to get the brain healthy,” he said. “Very few people seem to be able to help you with that.”

Some things, Love knows, you have to do for yourself.

This U.S. Open weekend is one of them.

If you've ever wondered what you'd get if you put the three best golfers in the world together in the first round of the U.S. Open on a blue-gray Thursday morning along the clifftops at Torrey Pines, here's your answer:

You got Tiger Woods, the undisputed heavyweight champion of bombing and gouging, making a double bogey on his first hole back since knee surgery, chopping it in and out of the broccoli like the locals who play this muni when the USGA isn't in town.

You also got Tiger making another ordinary-looking double bogey on the 14th hole and three-putting the par-5 18th for a par that left him with a 1-over 72 that wasn't bad for a guy who's spent more time on the stationary bike than the golf course since April.

In addition, you got local hero Phil Mickelson, the second-ranked player in the world, showing up without a driver in his bag, adding another curious page to his story. Forget that Torrey Pines is nearly as long as plebe year at West Point, Lefty went driver-less, played a scratchy nine holes then delighted his neighbors by shooting a 71 that looked better as the day went on.

Finally, you had Adam Scott, the clubhouse leader, tagging along like a third wheel despite cutting a dashing figure in his black and white argyle Burberry ensemble. Scott, No.3 in the world, shot 73, which wasn't bad considering he broke a bone above his right pinkie three weeks ago when it got in the way of a car door that was closing.

In other words, if you were expecting eagles soaring overheard and trumpets blaring, you instead got helicopters hovering over the Pacific Ocean, fighter jets screaming overhead on maneuvers and no decision in the great heavyweight pairing.

Perhaps too much was expected. This is, after all, the U.S. Open, which takes more than it gives.

The players seemed to get along nicely, though Torrey Pines' various demands didn't leave much time for chit-chat.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to know about Scott's injured hand.

“Well,” he said, “it's broken.”

Actually, just one bone but that's enough.

Woods was talking to himself by the time he left the first green, having picked a lousy time to make his first double bogey of the year.

“You couldn't ask for a worse start than I got off to,” Woods said. “I figured you were going to make bogeys out here. I just happened to make two on the first hole.”

The first official gallery gasp came at approximately 8:20 a.m. when Woods missed his bogey putt at No.1.

However, Woods made a beautiful birdie at the poster-pretty fourth hole, striping a 5-iron from a fairway bunker that came to rest 2 feet left of the hole and framed by the Pacific behind the green.

Tiger kept saving himself by holing key par putts in the middle of the round, but the double at No.14 and the pedestrian-looking three-putt par at No.18 left him frustrated.

Of more concern, perhaps, was the twinge he felt when he twisted into his tee shot at the 18th.

The grimace was apparent and, after hitting his shot, he walked to the back of the tee and pulled his white cap over his face, like a man trying to hide his pain.

“Didn't feel very good, no,” Woods said when asked about it after his round.

Was it still hurting?

“Um, hum,” he said.

Mickelson, meanwhile, sounded like a member of the chamber of commerce, complimenting the crowd for cheering for everyone. He was right. It wasn't as if Phil fans lined up on one side of the ropes with Tiger fans on the other and the Scott fans swooning somewhere in between.

There were, however, plenty of “homeboy” calls to Mickelson through the day and, from time to time, he would flash the Phil smile and give a little thumbs up. He's a master at the game.

It was Mickelson, not Woods, who looked rusty on the front nine when he started collecting fives on his scorecard like they were hotel points.

“I could say it was rust or I could say I hit a couple of dumb shots,” allowed Mickelson, who shot 33 coming in to feel better.

Then there was the matter of Phil's missing driver. He didn't accidentally leave it in his garage in nearby Rancho Santa Fe.

He figured he didn't need it, reasoning that he didn't need to hit any tee shots longer than 300 yards. So, of course, a strong 3-wood was plenty, proving he really does live in a different world than the rest of us.

“Nothing really surprises me with Phil,” Scott said. “He takes two drivers at Augusta (in 2006) and none here on the longest U.S. Open course in history. But he shot a pretty good score.”

Mickelson intends to play Torrey Pines the same way today, only with better results. That much, they all had in common.

No one keeps official records on this, but it's a fair assumption that this is the first U.S. Open played beside a nude beach.

For sure, it's the first Open at a course with a hang-gliding port located near one of the tees.

Then again, we are in Southern California. SoCal if you're from here.

Hang gliding will be discouraged this week while the Open is being played at Torrey Pines' South Course. The USGA tends to frown on birdies and fliers buzzing Phil Mickelson when he's putting.

“The hang-gliding port is closed,” Jim Hyler, vice president of the USGA, said with a smile.

As for sunbathing in the buff, well, the weather so far this week has discouraged that. It's been cloudy and cool, which isn't good for working on your all-over tan, but the so-called marine layer is expected to subside this weekend, which means there could be some interesting blimp shots on the telecast.

Let me take a moment here to mention the weather. It's been so chilly in the afternoons this week that security guards keeping watch over some of the cliffside holes have been wearing parkas and gloves.

It's expected to warm up this weekend, all the way up to 71 or 72 degrees if the sun pops through the low clouds that locals call June gloom. Sorry, I don't mean to rub it in while you're mopping sweat off your forehead at home.

A more intrepid reporter would have ventured down to Black's Beach – it has its own Web site that features a photo of sun-tanned posteriors – but it's a long trek and, well, I'm comfortable in my khakis, which would probably look out of place down among the, uh, free spirits.

I'll take the word of a friend that it's an interesting sight. Maybe if I sneak in behind the fourth green – it's the one along the cliffs you've probably seen photos of – I'll peek over at the beach, where it's perfectly legal to leave your Speedo at home.

And if you catch a shot of Tiger looking over the cliff there, you'll know why.

This Open has the makings of something different. It's a continent away from the northeast, where so many Opens tend to be played and there's a different vibe around Torrey Pines.

Just down the road from the course, surfers in wet suits are in the water and the scenery around the course is spectacular, except for the 70s-looking lodge adjacent to the 18 {+t}{+h} hole.

The anticipation will crest at 8:06 local time Thursday morning when Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson and Adam Scott gather together on the first tee for the most glamorous pairing since Brangelina.

A total of 42,500 tickets have been sold for today and officials expect every one of those people to be following Phil and Tiger.

They've hired extra police to deal with the expected crowds around the featured pairing. It could create one of the all-time spectator traffic jams.

The good news is if it gets too crowded, there's a beach nearby where they invite people to come as they are.

Sorenstam was just catching her wave in 1996, not knowing it would take her beyond the boundaries of women's professional golf and into everyday lives.

She became more than the best women's golfer of all time.

She became Annika.

The way she smiled and waved after all those birdies. The way she violated the golf swing's most basic rule by lifting her head before making contact with the ball. The way she accepted the attention but never wallowed in its glow.

And, of course, the way she handled herself when she played in the PGA Tour's Bank of America Colonial, taking all the heat, pressure and prejudice, and gracefully embracing it. She was a woman playing with the men, and she won over all but the hardest heads, who probably still don't know what they missed.

When Annika announced Tuesday that she would "step away" from competitive golf at the end of this season, it came as a mild surprise.

It shouldn't have, because she has always talked about going away on her terms, but she'd just won her 72nd LPGA tournament on Sunday by seven strokes, in the process thumping Lorena Ochoa, who has supplanted Sorenstam atop the women's game.

Selfishly, it came with a twinge of disappointment. For more than a decade, Sorenstam has always been there, knocking down flagsticks and records. It would be nice to see her continue, especially now that she's healthy again and proving she can battle Ochoa.

Instead, she has given herself seven more months of competitive golf -- 17 more events -- and then it's off to other things, such as teaching, cooking and, perhaps, mothering.

"If it's forever I'm not really sure," Sorenstam said on a conference call Tuesday. "But it definitely is for now."

Challenges exist that might keep someone else around -- she is 16 wins shy of tying Kathy Whitworth's all-time record (88), and Ochoa has challenged and, ultimately, unseated her, something no one else has done.

For Sorenstam, they are not enough.

Breaking Whitworth's record "does not motivate me," she said.

Regaining No. 1 from Ochoa "doesn't motivate me to keep on going," she said.

Without motivation, Sorenstam becomes just another golfer, and that's something she has never aspired to be. That's why she believes she can walk away at the end of this season and look forward, not back.

"I enjoy the competition, but I care too much about playing well that if I can't give 100 percent I don't want to give any," she said. "I know what it's like to play at the top. I don't want to do anything else."

Somewhere Tiger Woods is sitting on an exercise bike, rehabbing his knee and nodding his head in understanding.

Sorenstam has taken the women's game where it hadn't been. She shot a 59. She played prime-time golf with Woods. She helped the women's game go global.

She has come back from a neck injury that could have hastened her retirement. Instead, she worked through it, proving to herself she could get back to being Annika on tournament weekends.

This decision wasn't made overnight. Sorenstam talked Tuesday about the peace she has made with announcing the end of her competitive days.

She sounded happy.

"I'm not going away," she said. "I might not be inside the ropes, but I'm looking forward to another part of my life where I can help in different ways."

By being Annika.

Conceived by local businessman Fred Laxton then given the full artist's touch by classic course designer Donald Ross nearly a century ago, Charlotte Country Club sits tucked into an oak-filled pocket of the Plaza Midwood neighborhood where a sizeable portion of the city's golf history came to life.

Gene Sarazen once worked as an assistant pro at Charlotte Country Club and many of the best players of their day -- from Bobby Jones to Sam Snead to Arnold Palmer -- have played the course Ross completed in 1915.

The decision was made two years ago to restore Charlotte Country Club as close as possible to the course Ross designed. The 18 holes essentially were laid on the same land where Ross created them, but many design principles had been lost over time or dulled by modern designers who applied their touches in a series of renovations.

With the benefit of aerial photographs spanning several decades, including a previously unknown 1938 shot, designer Ron Prichard -- who specializes in restoring, not renovating original Ross designs -- has attempted to bring Charlotte Country Club back to what it was.

The result is spectacular.

More than 50 bunkers that had disappeared have been reconstructed to give the course a total of 105, the fairways have been widened by clearing dozens of massive oaks that had encroached on the playing area, and the green complexes are, in almost every case, dramatically framed by bunkering.

Put an aerial photograph of today's Charlotte Country Club beside the one taken 70 years ago and the similarities are striking.

"This is truly a restoration as opposed to a remodeling or a renovation," said Verner Stanley, co-chairman (with Doug Buchanan) of the golf course restoration committee.

When Nolan Mills, another committee member, and others began exploring the design history of the course, they discovered what began as a Ross design -- he continued tweaking the course for $75 a day while working on Pinehurst No. 2 -- had morphed into a collection of holes touched by many people.

Finding the 1938 photo was like striking gold.

Greens had shrunk substantially through the years and their shapes had changed. Bunkers had disappeared. Holes had been altered, including the 16th, 17th and 18th, which had been redesigned from Ross' original plan.

Members believed they were playing a Ross design, but it was in name only.

When Mills discovered the 1938 aerial photo in the files of the Mecklenburg County Soil and Erosion Department, he found what the course originally looked like.

Getting the course back there was the challenge.

After interviewing several course designers, the club chose Prichard because of his extensive knowledge of Ross' work and style. Ross, whose design resume is akin to Jack Nicklaus' competitive record, was a master at routing courses and creating a variety of challenges for players of all skill levels.

Charlotte Country Club -- 70 years ago and again today -- shows the characteristics of Ross' work. Several putting surfaces are raised with run-off areas and deep, flat-bottomed bunkers surrounding them. Fairway bunkers are penal, but most landing areas off the tee are generous -- in some cases more than 60 yards wide to offer players a variety of options in playing a hole.

"The golf course you see out there now is pretty close to the one that was out there" when Ross completed his work, Prichard said.

Ross didn't leave any drawings of Charlotte Country Club as he did of many other courses. Therefore, the putting surfaces don't duplicate the original contouring but feature plenty of movement. Prichard said he designed the greens based on others Ross built.

Prichard built a set of championship tees that stretch the par-71 layout to 7,335 yards and make it a stern test for any player. The blue tees, however, play 6,763 yards, slightly shorter than before the restoration. Most members play from a set of tees measuring 6,460 yards.

The dogleg par-4 16th was lengthened and the green was shifted to the left. A new par-3 17th hole, featuring an enormous hourglass-shaped green, was built.

There's a minimalist feel to the course. There are no tee markers on the championship tees and only small discs on other tees. There are no ball washers on the course.

Approximately 60 percent of the cart paths were removed to encourage walking. The flags are red and feature only the hole number in the upper right corner, no artwork or club logo.

Briar Creek, which runs through the course, was cleaned up and rebuilt in places with the city's permission. What had been a ragged hazard has been transformed into a more attractive body of water with more than 18,000 plants placed around its edges.

Course superintendent John Szklinski, who worked previously at Southern Hills Country Club in Tulsa, Okla., site of the 2001 U.S. Open and 2007 PGA Championship, is intent on making the layout play firm and fast, utilizing an aggressive top-dressing program on the fairways and rough.

Greens feature a combination of A1 and A4 bentgrass with a SubAir system under each putting surface to pull excess moisture from the ground.

In 1972, Charlotte Country Club hosted the U.S. Amateur when Vinnie Giles won, beating Ben Crenshaw and Jay Haas, among others. It hosted the 2000 U.S. Men's Senior Amateur and will host the 2010 U.S. Women's Amateur.

Beyond that, there are no plans to host other national events.

The intent is for members -- and golf purists -- to appreciate one of the city's treasures.

"This is a spectacular example of Ross' work," Prichard said. "It will rank very high now on any list of his courses."

BY THE NUMBERS

7,335

yards from a new set of championship tees that make the par-71 layout a stern test for any player. Most members play from a set of tees measuring 6,460 yards.

105

bunkers on the course. More than 50 that had disappeared have been reconstructed. The fairways have been widened by clearing dozens of massive oaks that had encroached on the playing area.

The audio was turned to 75, three-quarters of the way between 0 and 100 on the set, loud enough to reach across the quiet room.

That's the way Jim Nantz III wants it when he's on the air, loud enough so that perhaps some little piece of the voice that has narrated so many sports moments will register someplace deep within his father, who is spending his final days lost in the fog of Alzheimer's.

"My voice at least is going to be in his room," Nantz said, sitting in a CBS production truck at the Quail Hollow Club three hours before air time last Sunday.

Thirteen years ago, Nantz's father, 79, suffered a stroke as he left the tower behind the 18th green at Colonial Country Club in Fort Worth, Texas, where his son was calling the golf tournament.

Nothing has been the same since for Nantz, the son.

His voice, as familiar as the road home, has told us the stories of the Masters, the Final Four, the Super Bowl. He has taken viewers where most could never go. Nantz has become the pre-eminent broadcasting voice in American sports and he has done much of it with a sadness he has kept hidden until now.

Nantz, who was born in Charlotte almost 49 years ago, has written a book "Always By My Side, A Father's Grace And A Sports Journey Unlike Any Other" (Gotham Books, $26) that was released May 6 and tells his story largely behind the camera.

It is a book that starts and ends with his father -- what happened when he was first stricken and how his life will end, perhaps soon -- and blends in stories about the places Nantz has been and the people he has befriended.

He tells about relationships with former President George H.W. Bush, and fellow broadcasters Ken Venturi, Jim McKay, Pat Summerall and others. He tells their stories because they have influenced his life, often profoundly.

"I got to talk about what I think is very important in that you do lean on people to guide you. In my case, surrogate fathers, mentors, guiding lights. Father figures I always looked up to," Nantz said.

It is not a maudlin book nor is it a recounting of anecdotes from his access in the closed world of athletics and television. It's a gentle, amusing, warm book about the people who have most influenced his life in the years since his father began to fade away.

And his father, who was born in Mount Holly and married Doris Trull from Charlotte, is never far away.

The idea for the book came, Nantz said, when he was preparing for the greatest run any sports broadcaster has ever had -- a 63-day journey in 2007 in which he was the lead announcer on the Super Bowl, the Final Four and the Masters, a broadcasting first.

Nantz realized he had everything but his father, who used to sit in television booths, headphones strapped on his ears, watching his son rather than watching the action.

"When my career is over, when it's all said and done, I'm going to look at that book and say I'm more proud of that than anything I ever did. I got to tell people how my father looked at life," Nantz said.

The Nantz ties to Charlotte run deep. Even after the family moved away in the early 1960s, they returned every summer to visit relatives. Nantz's grandparents on his mother's side lived in the same two-bedroom, one-bathroom house on Camp Greene Street for 63 years.

Last October, when Nantz was in Charlotte to broadcast the Carolina Panthers game against the Indianapolis Colts, he reached a peace about his father's condition, which he describes today as "barely, barely alive."

Getting there, however, has been a 13-year grieving process.

With images of the golf tournament he would soon broadcast flickering behind him in the CBS production truck, Nantz talked about the pain of dealing with the effects of Alzheimer's on everyone touched by it. The decision to move his dad out of his Houston home and into a care facility eight years ago was wrenching.

"How does a loving son, one day drop (his dad) off somewhere? How you do that?" Nantz asked.

He was at Pebble Beach in 2000 during the U.S. Open when, after walking the beach at Carmel by himself, he phoned his mother and sister, Nancy, and asked them to come to California for a vacation.

"I was really despondent at that time. CBS didn't know what I was going through," Nantz said. "(My mom and sister) were at wit's end, dragging my father up and down the stairs at home. I said, pack up, come to Pebble Beach, you need a break. Stay as long as you'd like.

"They said `who's going to get your father?' I said I will. I'll take care of him. For five days I did what they'd been doing for years.

"You bathe them. You dress them. You take them to the bathroom. You do everything that goes with that."

And, Nantz learned, you decide when they need more than you can give them.

Connecticut is home for Nantz, but he regularly flies through Houston, on his way to or from an assignment or just to spend a few hours with his father.

He has lost his father gradually and in plain sight.

"In the last year we've gone from faint, faint, faint recognition; we could walk into a room and haven't seen him in a month and you'd have that flash," Nantz said. "For a year, we were hanging onto that flash. That was a win."

For a time, Nantz took to identifying himself almost every time a broadcast would return from a commercial break. "This is Jim Nantz" he'd say, not for the viewers or his ego but in hopes it might register with his father. After a while, Nantz dropped the subtle attempt at therapy.

In hopes of clearing the cobwebs from his father's mind, Nantz would sit with him and play word association games, asking him to remember names.

"That's been long gone," Nantz said.

"I was there (two) weeks ago Thursday and you go in and there's nothing. He's off in the distance. He's oblivious to the world."

When Nantz was in Charlotte for the Colts-Panthers game last October, he drove to Mount Holly again. He had finished his Saturday prep meetings with Panthers players and coaches and drove to the town where his father was raised.

He had planned to bury his father in the National Cemetery in Houston, a recognition of his military service, until his sister recalled her father saying he'd like to go back to Mount Holly.

The Nantz family plot in the town cemetery had one spot remaining. On one side of the headstone are Jim III's great grandfather, great grandmother and great uncle. On the other side are his father's mother and father.

Nantz went to the Mount Holly cemetery on a Saturday when the clouds were breaking, the wind was blowing and a football game was being played down the hill at the school where his father was educated before going away to Guilford College, where he played football.

"It felt like a movie set," Nantz said.

He walked down the hill and bought a $3 ticket to the football game. He did one lap around the field, always looking back up the slope toward the juniper tree that marked the family plot.

"I walked back up and I called my mother and said this is the place," Nantz said. "Here was a football game. All the things that represented my dad, his school, his town, his mother and father. I said we're going to bring him here."

One day soon they will.

Until that day, there are telecasts to do like the one Nantz did last Sunday from high above the 18th green at Quail Hollow. His mother, Doris, was in the booth, watching her son work.

In Room 201 in Houston, the television was on.

Phil Mickelson was jetting away, the fans were gone and inside the locker room drinks were being poured for a few people deserving of them.

Golf tournaments are months in the making, a week in the playing and over in an instant.

This Wachovia Championship may have lacked Sunday afternoon drama -- chances are the television ratings won't send CBS executives rushing to issue news releases -- but it had everything else.

OK, it didn't have Tiger Woods, but nobody mentioned it after a while.

A few years from now, maybe just months from now, this might be the week when the world looks back and says that's where Kim arrived.

He has the look of a man who is going to win multiple championships, and the worst thing he did this week was bleach the drama out of the tournament. But here's a thought -- how strong would a Tiger-Kim pairing in the Ryder Cup be in September?

Somewhere Sunday evening captain Paul Azinger had to be running that one through his mind.

Beyond Kim, the star was again Quail Hollow. It surrendered a record-low score in part because Kim was brilliant and because 3 inches of rain last Sunday and Monday dampened its fire for a time.

But Quail Hollow is a terrific stage. It's OK if guys take it into double-digits under par for the week. Fans like to see birdies. They see enough of their own bogeys.

Players almost universally praised the setup, which featured a lower first-cut of rough and greens that were quick but not frightening.

During the week, representatives of the PGA of America were on site taking a look at the place, checking it out for an anticipated bid by Quail Hollow officials to host the PGA Championship and/or Ryder Cup at some future date.

It would be a great fit.

There's still some thought to altering the par-4 16th hole to put the green down by the lake, but that's not likely to happen soon, if it all. The biggest change players will notice next year is a better shape to the funky eighth green, which will probably lose its false front and have more hole locations created by expanding the back section.

The personality of a tournament is often defined by its leaders and this one bounced around for a couple of days before Kim took command. David Toms was a pleasant surprise Thursday, when he led and Mickelson was right there.

Jason Bohn was a bright spot Friday and wound up third while proving to anyone who was around him that he's the kind of guy you'd like to have a beer with.

Mickelson messed up his week with two double bogeys in 45 minutes Friday afternoon but was in good spirits when he finished Sunday, ready to defend his Players Championship this week.

Ultimately, the week belonged to Kim, who might have given us a glimpse of the future. Maybe it was just one charmed week. Maybe it was the first of many.

For sure, it was another week to remember.

IN MY OPINION Ron

Green Jr. Ron

Green Jr.

By lunchtime, just before the gathering breeze began to blow a touch of uncertainty through Quail Hollow's oak trees, Toms had posted a 5-under-par 67 that would stand up for the first-round lead, with Phil Mickelson and Jason Bohn shadowing him.

On the surface, it seemed a natural fit.

Toms won the inaugural Wachovia Championship in 2003, has his name on a parking spot near the club house and should feel as comfortable at Quail Hollow as the members.

The reality is he hasn't made the cut at Quail Hollow since winning here and hadn't been back since 2005.

Or a more current concern is the state of his 41-year-old back, which has been as bothersome as a balky putting stroke recently.

So when he sat down at midday and was asked to remember the last time he played a round as good as the eight-birdie tour he'd just finished, Toms couldn't find an answer.

"Well, since a long time," Toms said, a bemused smile on his face. "I don't know. I can't even think.

"I don't have an answer for it either."

It wasn't long ago that Toms was ranked among the top five players in the world. His game has been built on consistency, determination and a knack for holing putts.

He has slipped to 54th in the world, in part because of deteriorating disks in his back that are a family trait and a reason to consider life beyond golf.

While Mickelson (68) was marching around Quail Hollow feeling taller -- he says he's grown an inch through stretching exercises and he's using a longer putter these days -- and Bohn (68) was happy to have his health issues behind him, Toms was glad to feel like the player he wants to be.

Since he felt a pain in his back while trying to rip a tee shot in the World Golf Championship Accenture Match Play Championship in February, Toms has needed golf's tender mercies. They haven't come.

He's tried to play, but nothing special has happened. His father and grandfather have similar back problems, so he understands what he's dealing with.

It has left Toms with a dull edge to go with a dull ache.

"The frustrating part is not playing at the same level that I've been accustomed to," he said. "I think it wears on you mentally more than anything else.

"You show up at an event and you're not fired up to play because you're not getting the results. But then you go home and everybody has questions for you. It never stops."

And then there are days like Thursday.

Playing early when the dew was on the ground, the greens were soft and the attention was on Mickelson, Toms played his first nine holes (the back side) 4 under par, spiced by a birdie at the difficult 18th hole.

Toms' two bogeys were the result of a three-putt at No. 1 and being forced to play his third shot at the par-5 seventh from a bad lie in a sand-filled divot. Birdies at the eighth and ninth holes -- the last one from 18 inches away -- catapulted him into the lead and gave him a needed dose of confidence.

"I'm not saying I couldn't win this tournament, but I think it's more of a process to get confidence back," Toms said.

In Mickelson's case, the confidence was almost palpable. Invigorated by two weeks off, and an adjustment in his putting had Mickelson feeling aggressive at Quail Hollow, where the putting surfaces were quick but not dangerous.

Bohn, meanwhile, is coming off a sixth-place finish at the Verizon Heritage at Hilton Head Island, S.C., two weeks ago that secured his playing privileges for the year after being granted a medical extension because of a serious rib injury. He didn't touch a club for six months but is healthy now and feeling a different kind of pressure.

"I had my second son two months ago, so now I'm in double diapers," Bohn said. "That's way more pressure than making my medical."