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“It’s close, but back in 1951, the players had never seen a [penal] course set up like Oakland Hills as my dad prepped it for that Open,” he explained, seeming to become more sure of his answer the deeper he thought it through.
“Hogan never even pulled out his driver until the final round,” Jones continued, gathering momentum. “It was the worst rough they had ever encountered, he wasp-waisted the fairways, and most importantly, dad built the bunkers in sets of three – the first to catch Jerry Barber, the next to catch Hogan, and the last to catch Sam Snead.” When examining a map of the course, it’s remarkable how many fairway bunker complexes are in triplets on either side of the fairway, or more commonly, both.
On some holes, Rees built a fourth bunker, to catch You-Know-Who, only You-Know-Who is seething in his lawn chair right now, thinking about anything but what’s happening here, and drinking Kool-Aid with his daughter as she splashes poolside, steaming inside all the while.
Nevertheless, even Woods might not be impenetrable to the slings and arrows Oakland Hills can throw at you. Golf World’s Ron Whitten is right, with four-inch rough, some of the most devious, slick, and undulating greens in America, Oakland Hills demands every facet of a player’s game be sharp – accuracy, length, putting, chipping and most importantly patience. He picked 5-over to win, 285 aggregate.
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Trevor Immelman focused more on the razor-sharp precision required off the tee. “I think the guys who come here this week and hit the ball really accurately off the tee are going to be the guys who come out on top this week,” said Masters champion Trevor Immelman tartly, as though already frustrated that The Monster was forcing him into her game plan rather than his own.
“At Firestone last week, the way it was set up, you could miss a fairway and still advance a ballot or near the green, and then you could allow your short game to save you on many occasions,” Immelman began, gesturing pointedly with his hands. “Whereas, here this week, if you hit it in the rough, it’s almost impossible to get the ball on the green. So the guy who drives the ball the straightest here is going to have a huge advantage.”
Still, Jones wasn’t convinced he’d surpassed his father’s mark for difficulty. “We’re not taking driver out of anyone’s hands, we’re just making them think,” Jones responds clinically. “With today’s equipment, it’s much easier for them to get the ball up, and yet still control the roll out. Moreover, players have seen this type of setup for decades now and are prepared for it. Add in that they are better conditioned, have better equipment, when you factor in that plus the experience and the 1951 Open was the first time they ever saw any conditions like that.”
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Oakland Hills likes their greens and their rough and their corresponding orugh-and-tumble reputation just fine. So maybe the greens and rough aren’t as sadistic as Oakmont or Winged Foot, but the course scares the players plenty. The best in the world will have all they can handle this week. It won’t be 5-over carnage – the worst aggregate to par at the PGA Championship was 1-over, on several occasions. But Oakland Hills will be the star this week. She’ll confound, frustrate, dismantle, enrage, and dispatch players with ruthless efficiency.
The Monster may be long in the tooth, but she’s still lean and hungry. She also has some new teeth. He actually improved the iconic 16th hole by getting rid of the dopey fake waterfall and extending the lake to the right side and rear of the green, making the approach even more dramatic. He cut down many needless trees – even though more need to go. As for the new center-line bunker on 15, Jones was hemmed in –there is nowhere to build a new tee and at least Jones kept the center line idea of Ross instead of bulldozing the hole to oblivion.
No, Oakland Hills is not the unchained leviathan of 1951, the face that launched a thousand target golf courses, but she’s still a juggernaut. She’s relentless, she’s cunning, she’s brutish, and she’s watchful. “No, she’s not as tough as 1951, but she’s still as tough as ever,” finished Jones.
He’s right. Sure, “you could truly give Oakmont two weeks notice and they could be ready to host an Open in case of an emergency,” as not one but three different sportswriters said. Sure Winged Foot relishes it’s reputation as the “Graveyard of Champions,” but Oakland Hills has had a long history of golf glory and golf misery as well. Just as we’ll crown a great champion this week, we’ll also counterbalance that with some gruesome horror stories as well. Isn’t that the way it goes in Monster movies?



















