Generation X-Out Has Spotlight

Wait a minute, who are these guys?

I mean, this is the L.A. Open, right? This saw Hogan, Snead, Nelson, Mangrum, Palmer, Nicklaus--all those guys.

So, give me a clue. Who’s Stephen Ames? If you don’t know that, how about Brett Quigley? What did he ever do?

He’s in the hunt here.

What is this? A four-ball at Wykagyl, a member-guest at Rancho? The Nike Tour? Or one of the most prestigious tournaments of the year?

It’s hard to tell from a leaderboard.

You know who John Daly is, right? Well, at the close of business at the Nissan Open on Friday, Joe Daley had him by three shots.

But that’s nothing. Craig Barlow made the cut. But that other Craig, Stadler, didn’t. Which is all right. Except that other Craig won a Masters. And 11 other tournaments. The Craig named Barlow hasn’t won anything.

Chris DiMarco made the cut too. But Corey Pavin didn’t. Corey only won the ’95 U.S. Open and 13 other tournaments, including the Nissan L.A. twice. Back-to-back.

Is this a game or a punishment for our sins? Custer’s Last Stand was a standoff compared to this.

The defending champion, Nick Faldo is in here. But don’t look under the red numbers. Nick only won three Masters and three British Opens. A couple of guys who will never win any are making him look like a guy who just got his card. A Monday qualifier.

The devastation was almost total. The fairways are littered with the bleaching bones of master golfers. Sandy Lyle isn’t here any more. Missed the cut. This is the guy who won a Masters, a British Open and who is an M.B.E. That’s next door to being a knight. Picture Lancelot missing the cut, can you?

It gets worse. Justin Leonard, the defending British Open champion, was sent on his way by the bunkers and greens of Valencia, which are as undulating as the English Channel on a stormy night.

They should rename this place Hostile Hills. Eight guys couldn’t break 80 here. One couldn’t break 90.

They used to say of a guy in poker who doubled the ante that he was “trying to run the ribbon clerks out.” Well, this tournament is running the ribbon clerks in.

Oh, to be sure, as this is written, a 22-year-old player is ripping par to shreds out there. Shooting a 65, no less.

But, c’mon! We know no 22-year-old is going to win an L.A. Open. I mean, Hogan was 35 before he won one here. Jack Nicklaus never did win one here (OK, he did skip a lot of them).

So, as cute as it is, this kid won’t make it. Will he? Kid named Eldrick Woods. Got a lot of promise, but, hey, so did Ian Baker-Finch.

This game is an unplayable lie. When the pros came to Valencia, they thought they were in for a stand-in course. A complicated par three.

Hah! They found out. The wind blew, the scores soared. The air was full of flying clubs. They got clear into Saturday before conditions got so they didn’t need two clubs more on every shot to get through the force-10 gale, the kind of weather that wrecked the Hesperus and ran the Spanish Armada aground.

Greens that had the delicate touches of putting on a steep tin roof tormented them. A haunted house. An enemy of golf.

That’s why we had a Skip Kendall shooting a lights-out 64. That’s why they can’t shake Ames, Jerry Kelly and Jim Carter (or is it Jim Kelly and Jerry Carter? )

There used to be a song on the charts called “No Name Jive.” It should be the theme song of this tournament.

The problem probably is, these young whippersnappers probably don’t understand the situation. They think those putts are supposed to go in.

Actually, by nightfall Saturday, the Establishment had restored some semblance of order.

Not entirely. John Daly had gone by Joe Daley. But Ames, Quigley, Kendall and those whozits were still lurking and menacing.

Tommy Armour III is not exactly one of golf’s Big Three. He doesn’t answer to the nickname Tiger, or The Hawk, or The Golden Bear, but he has paid his dues. He has won on tour and made more than $1.6 million.

Armour Three hit the clubhouse leading the tournament by one over Billy Mayfair and by two over the upstarts, parvenus and the “How-Did-He-Get-Heres” of modern golf. Payne Stewart is in there, upholding the honor of the Old Guard, as it were.

The funny thing is, they may have to call on that 22-year-old who does answer to the nickname Tiger to take care of the no-names. But that’s all right. This Tiger is a paid-up member of the Establishment. The best they have. If he wins, even Hogan would approve.