Behind the Scenes at the US Open 

It was insane. There, a mere few feet away, were the greatest names in the sport: Jack, Fuzzy, Tiger.  No, it’s not a Winnie the Pooh story, it’s the US Open - a week of fun, parties, and drunken revelry.  As a freelance cameraman for a major sports network, I had full access to the biggest golf event in the country.

            First thing you must know - the people who follow golfers are nuts.  These guys are a talented bunch of semi-out-of-work professionals who really know how to tan.  Here’s one story:

            The tournament was coming to a close.  Everyone in the press area was riveted to the TV set.  Cheers went up when South African Ernie Els took the lead.  Not because Els was a favorite - or even liked - but they cheered because anyone took the lead.  No one in the press wanted to work an extra day and a playoff would mean just that. The cameraman from TV New Zealand told me “Tomorrow is my day off and I want to see some sights before I go home.  The last place I want to be is dragging around a golf course.”  Els held on to win and soon he was in the press room.  He was mobbed by reporters seeking autographs.  Good thing they keep the riffraff out and let the professional media in to do their job.  Everyone had their story.  Things began to get pretty loose.

            By 9:45PM most people had left Congressional Country Club to carry on the party someplace else.  I had a camera and lights set up near the putting green in front of the clubhouse.  We were to shoot a live interview.  The guest was Ernie Els’ trainer and he brought the champion’s golf bag with him as a prop.  I wanted to put it between the two chairs on the set but it sat too low.  We dragged out a camera case to put under it and, as I hoisted it up, I said to the director “Am I holding the winner’s bag?” 

            “Yes you are,” he beamed.  I reverently sat it on the camera case and we went live on the air.  For about ten seconds, that is.  Then the word came we were losing the satellite.  (You have to rent the time.)  The producer next to me screamed “Give me your headset!” and proceeded to beg the engineer to buy more.  “This interview is gold!  Get me more time!” 

            We immediately got the green light for more time.  We were back on the air.  The producer beamed.  He pulled out a cooler and distributed beer to everyone around.  A bunch of guys from South Africa who were friends of Ernie Els came stumbling out of the clubhouse and over toward us.  They had obviously been “celebrating” for a few hours.   The producer welcomed them with beer.  Everyone was smiling and laughing.  One guy even broke into a handstand.  The party was turning full tilt, right next to the live interview.  The two people on the air were smiling but didn’t break up.  Then somebody noticed a banner attached to the flagpole right next to my camera.  The handstanding South Afrikaner decided it would make a perfect souvenir.  He shimmied up the 20 foot flagpole and tried to pull it down but he couldn’t quite get it off the little arm that was holding it on.  Everyone was holding their hand to their face, trying not to laugh out loud while we were on the air.  Just then the same drunk South African guy slides down the flagpole, runs behind the interview and takes the nine iron out of the champion’s bag.  The producer is doubled over laughing.  In my head set I hear the network saying “What the hell was that?” The guy shimmies back up the pole.  Now the pole begins to sway and I’m convinced it will fall right on me and the camera with a 160 pound drunk South African on top of it.  But I’m laughing too. The guy is clanking the top of the pole with the nine iron and the whole thing takes a big sway.  The South African guy screams.  The crew is howling with laughter. 

            Still the guys on the air keep their composure.  Then someone realizes you can pull the flagpole out of the ground.  A couple of guys get on it and it comes out, sways my way for a second and then crashed to the ground on the putting green, inches away from the set.  The party boys pull off the banner, dance around with it and then put back the flagpole.  Still we’re on the air.

            Then the producer says to the Afrikaner “When I give you the signal, walk past the camera on your hands!”  I zoom out to a wide shot and this loaded friend of the champ begins to walk through the set on his hands, his full belly hanging out.  He gets about halfway across the shot and falls down, bounces off the grass and pops back up into the shot before stumbling off.  In my headsets I hear “What the hell is that!  Who’s that guy?  What the #@#% is going on up there?!”  The interview subjects fall apart laughing as a loud off-camera belch is heard.  The US Open coverage has come to an end.  We sign off, dim the lights, open a few more beers and distribute souvenir golf balls from the champion’s bag.