A couple of folding chairs, some trucks and silence: A walk around TPC Sawgrass on what would been the Players Championship third round - Golf.com

PONTE VEDRA BEACH, Fla. — It was Saturday afternoon, getting on 5, on a perfect late-winter day here. Shiny grass everywhere and a helping wind on 17, just the thing you don’t want on that devil of a par-3. Not that it mattered. Had it been a normal Saturday, Rickie Fowler and C.T. Pan and the other leaders would be heading this way right about now.

But of course, they were not. There were no tee markers on the tee box, just a couple of folding chairs, seemingly for no good reason. There were no fans on the hill behind the tee, no flagstick in the green, no sounds of any sort, except for the workmen and the engines of their trucks. They were there to disassemble, but you could have mistook them for gravediggers. TPC Sawgrass — the STADIUM COURSE — was closed for business.

It’s always the same. You take it for granted, whatever it might be, then discover the folly of your ways when it’s gone. Somebody ate a bad piece of chicken in Wuhan, or whatever, and the next thing you know your weekend in mid-March looks completely different. Shouldn’t Pat Reed be coming to 17 right about now?

How you think they’ll treat him?

Whatever we were getting so worked up about (name your subject) seems so distant now. Quaint, almost. The enemy is now undercover. Not just the virus, but that of course. Our enemy now is uncertainty, like when you’re driving on dirt roads in Canada, in the rain, trying to find the house without a map or working phone. We’re keeping the faith because that’s what makes sense, right? And we’re washing our hands.

So no Players, no Masters, no Dinah Shore. No after-the-birdie fives, no tees as toothpicks. No shared beers.

The rough was taking a sunbath on Saturday afternoon at Sawgrass. The players would have complained, because it was getting thicker by the minute and complaining is their birthright. Elsewhere, 18 white Chevy fans sat on a field collecting dust, baking, reserved for volunteers who were at home, practicing the latest craze, social distancing. There would be no shuttling today.

The driving range was empty. The interview tent, the grandstands on 18, the player parking lot: empty. Saturday at the Players, in this odd year.

You — if not actually you, someone you know — used to kick the Players, just for the sport of it. Nothing violent, just a tap, like you were kicking a deflated soccer ball with your inside right while wearing tennis shoes. A good event, to be sure, but man, did its bosses try too hard. Plus, that gaudy clubhouse. You’ll retire that whole bit, if you can hold on to your 3/14/20 mindset. That’s a big if. We’re not good at that; nobody is good at that. We fall back to who we were and what we know, or what we think we know.

But what is this feeling washing over me as I walk the back nine in warmth that’s right on the edge of sticky? (The fans, most of them, would have been wearing shorts, for sure. The players would have been bare-armed and spotless, because they’re always bare-armed and spotless on these perfect weekends.) Is it … nostalgia?

2020-03-15 16:33:57Z
https://www.golf.com/news/columns/2020/03/15/tpc-sawgrass-players-championship-cancellation/