The strangeness in the air on Saturday carried over into the wee hours of Sunday morning when the fire alarm woke up a bunch of cranky scribes at the media hotel around 1am. Myself included. Naturally, it turned out to be a false alarm. Somehow, the disconcerting announcement didn’t sound in my room (thank God for Twitter,huh?), but I did get the “false alarm” one.
Good news is I could understand all three languages used: Spanish, Mandarin and English (played in that order). You know, just in case I missed the first or second message the fourth time it was repeated. Better news: I didn’t listen to the evacuation order and leave my room for the Media Pajama Party in front of the hotel. Now that would have been a spooky nightmare!
The game plan was to rest up and then wake up early to write this post — which I’ve been thinking through since Friday evening — but alas, here I am, up and at ‘em. Let’s hope some of this makes sense…it goes back to a quote Jim Furyk gave me after the final round of the Masters in April. (continue reading…)










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