Golfers’ frustration makes for a wonderful show

OAKMONT, PA. —  Tiger Woods is cursing at his feet, which you can’t see, because they are shrouded in long grass.

Phil Mickelson is cursing into his cap, which has been angrily wrenched from his head and is apparently being blamed for that shot that just disappeared into a ditch.

Bubba Watson is holding his putter like a shotgun and firing repeatedly at his ball.

Ricky Barnes successfully hits out of a deep sand trap, then tumbles while trying to extricate himself from the trap.

The caddie for Olin Browne begs the gallery to be quiet, not because they are talking, but because they are laughing.

It was, as Mickelson later said, “carnage.”

It was, as Paul Goydos later exclaimed, “bloody.”

It was, I’m sure we agree, wonderful.

Oakmont became Oakmonster on Friday, breathing fire over the second round of the U.S. Open, melting silk shirts and designer belts and frail egos.

Delightful, wasn’t it?

Who doesn’t like to see our royalty struggling like the rest of us?

We are so accustomed to watching the world’s best golfers raising their gloved fists in triumph, it’s fun to see them throw up their soiled hands in disgust.

Having grown weary of seeing them pose in front of luxury cars, it’s far more rewarding to watch them standing in deep rough.

We’re used to seeing them surrounded by crowds, but when that crowd consists entirely of marshals trying to find their ball, well, now that’s fun.

In all, a perfect day for those who want to believe they can play golf just like their heroes.

Lucas Glover, who missed the cut at 11 over par, sighed and understood.

“I hit a shot that went four feet,” he said. “I’m guessing lots of people can do that.”

In some ways, this is nothing new. Every year the U.S. Open is purposely the toughest of the four major tournaments.

But this year, because of Oakmont’s links-style rough and sand traps, it may be tougher than ever.

“The hardest course I’ve ever played,” said Goydos, who also missed the cut at 11 over.

“The most challenging course I’ve ever seen,” said Stewart Cink, whose weekend ended at 12 over.

It’s so hard, Mickelson, who injured his wrist on the course’s high rough a little over two weeks ago, used a word that has probably never before been used in describing a golf course.

“Dangerous,” he said after shooting 77 to finish at 11 over. “People hurting their ribs, their backs, their wrist, it’s dangerous.”

It’s so hard, the caddies’ gift bags included Band Aids.

“Isn’t that perfect?” Goydos said.

The course is so hard, Goydos’ best shots came when he described it.

He said, “It’s so tough, the rough is flowering.”

He added, “It’s so hard, it’s like that defensive line from up the road in Pittsburgh. The course is a Steel Curtain. It just beats the heck out of you. It pummels you into submission.”

He concluded: “Does the course make you angry? Only every shot. Every one.”

But why be angry? The leader after two rounds, Angel Cabrera, is shooting even par. Isn’t that why it’s called “par,” because it’s the standard score for the course?

Shouldn’t all tournaments be tough enough where somebody can win by just shooting the standard score?

And if a nondescript Englishman named Paul Casey could shoot a 66 Friday, well, couldn’t others?

Apparently not.

The average score was 76 for the first two rounds, making it one of the toughest Open tracks in the last 25 years.

The top-five ranked players in the world are a combined 49 over par.

Then there was that poor lad named Sam Walker, who was delighted to come from the European Tour into his first U.S. Open, until, on Friday, he shot an 89.

That’s right, a professional who shoots a round with 10 bogeys, three double bogeys and a triple bogey.

That’s like, uh, you.

“Sometimes,” said Lee Janzen, a two-time Open champion who is at six over par, “you just want to crawl into a hole next to your bunker and never come out of it.”

Jim Hyler, chairman of the USGA championship committee, wanted to climb the nearest water tower and celebrate.

“The players’ scores mean nothing to us, absolutely nothing,” he said.

Hyler said the only thing that matters is the integrity of the tournament.

“It’s our national championship, and we state very, very clearly that we want it to be a rigorous test,” he said. “I think golf fans enjoy seeing this once a year.”

Hyler couldn’t hide his glee. In the end, the fans couldn’t hide their sympathy.

By midafternoon, the place had become strangely quiet, about 45,832 fans either sitting on their hands or using them to cover their eyes.

Sitting by the 18th hole for an hour, usually the most raucous place on any course, I heard only two loud cheers.

Fans couldn’t identify the players coming up the fairway because they were often coming out of waist-high traps or knee-deep rough. And once the players arrived on the long and sloping green, well, who wants to cheer a missed putt?

Cars on the Pennsylvania Turnpike whooshed past. A train whistle blew. A few cameras clicked.

Quietly, painfully, the world’s best golfers died a slow hacker’s death.

It was lovely.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.