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Mark Huber

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                                                                                                Mark Huber 08/24/10
                                                           
                                        'Safeway Classic, Pumpkin Ridge, North Plains. OR':
  

     Sunday practice rounds for a tournament starting Friday aren’t the norm but Misun wanted to play eighteen holes and practice a bit Sunday afternoon. I reluctantly obliged and was glad to see a cart available in the sweltering 100 degree heat. We beat some balls, teed it up about 2:30 and accomplished a lot. I was able to chart all the greens and she worked diligently on her short game. The nice thing about working Sunday afternoon was getting a head start on Helvetia Tavern cheeseburgers that evening.

Ghost Creek at Pumpkin Ridge sets in the rolling hills northwest of Portland and has hosted numerous USGA events, Tiger won his last U.S. Am here, and Helvetia is about three miles east as the crow flies. We stumbled onto this old country general store turned burger haven about ten years ago during the Champions Tour Jeld-Wen Tradition and salivate every time someone mentions it.

It was a nice respite from the hot afternoons but five cheeseburgers in one week was a bit much. They serve RC Cola, everything comes on thin wax paper, the pepper shakers work, and you see all walks of life gnawing on the monster burgers. Dave and Ronnie Stockton thanked me profusely for the good yardage and made two trips themselves.

I thought Misun would take it easy after the early start but she spent at least 8-10 hours every day practicing. The youngsters don’t quite understand that rest is an important part of your routine and beating balls for hours doesn’t groove a good swing. You need a purpose in your practice for improvement but a lot of the Korean parents demand they hit balls all day long, even when they are noticeably tired. We paid the penalty Friday.

I think we were physically and mentally wore out by Friday. Paired with Amy Hung and Sandra Gal, a young long hitting German who Dave Stockton is trying to set me up with, we fired a smooth 78 and did all the damage the last seven holes. A wayward tee shot on twelve cost us a double and we followed it with three straight bogies, a birdie, another bogie, then parred eighteen. Her dauber was down, she was tired but still headed for the range at 7:00, beat some balls and accomplished nothing. Maybe one of these days she’ll listen.

The Safeway Classic of Portland has been around since 1972 and is the second longest continuous LPGA event. The crowds were large and the pro-am turnout was huge. Usually you have 40-45 pro-am teams but this tournament had over fifty for both days, quite a tribute to the area support. The tournament director, Tom Maletis, was constantly roaming the grounds making sure everything was in order and everyone was in good hands. He was on a first name basis with all the veteran caddies and made sure we had a hot meal and a cold beer after the round.

We started on the back nine early Saturday way back in the pack and needed 69 or 70 to make the cut. The conditions were ripe for scoring but nothing fell early and we were two over making the turn after bogeying the reachable par 4 seventeenth. Birdies dropped on the second and third holes then we knocked it close on the par five fourth. Misun pulled the five-footer and we left our birdie putt on the next hole in the jaws. At six over we still had a chance with two reachable par fives remaining but we didn’t take advantage of any opportunities, missing the cut by three.
Walking from the scoring tent I expected to say our goodbyes, pack up, and haggle over the check. She was off for some lunch and wanted to practice more that afternoon. After the practice session I asked if I was receiving a little extra salary because of the Sunday practice round. “Oh, no, I can’t afford to pay you any more but can you come out tomorrow at ten for some more practice, I’ll have my checkbook then.”

For some reason this didn’t set well with me but I showed up little late Sunday morning, watched her hit balls while she chatted with her ailing coach, Phil Ritson, over the phone. She’s been unable to work with him the last three months and it’s taken a toll on her game. When we finished she gave me a big hug, thanked me, admitted she probably overworked this week, and wrote me a check. At least I covered my expenses, barely.

Some weeks are like that but it’s time to get back to the Champions Tour. Bob Gilder is playing good so next week in Snoqualmie things should be much more rewarding.

                          Take Care
                                 Mark