I cannot wait to watch the US Open at Chambers Bay.  I haven't been there, but I've seen the photos and my desire to play golf there borders on lust.  (Actual golf with shaped creative shots, not the mortar-launched version of lawn darts currently living on my TV.)

The USGA is to be commended for selecting Chambers Bay.  I had completely stopped watching the US Open years ago, due to the boredom of sling-blade wedge shots out of thick, deep steel wool and fairways resembling subway tunnels.  But last year's choice of Pinehurst #2 and the excellent set-up brought me back to the screen.  PH2 was magnificent, no matter what the lawyers with the deity complex on Golf Club Atrophy say.  Chambers Bay looks even more amazing.

RTJ II deserves golf's version of the Oscar for his design, (That was very difficult for me to say, not a fan of the House of Jones) and the splendid contour work of the shapers has a surreal quality to it.

Eric Johnson, the Director of Agronomy and Josh Lewis, Chambers Bay Golf Course Superintendent, have done an incredible job blending the look and the conditioning with the design.  The course appears both beautiful and strategic.  Rockbottum CC salutes you, Eric.

As to the complaints spewing forth from touring pros . . . let us not overreact.  Living a pampered, protected existence since childhood, they are not aware they sound like cupcakes to us.  If they were more aware, they wouldn't dress like Audrey Hepburn and use words like "farce", which sounds so Niles and Fraser.

When you've been told you are a gifted elite athlete since that first pre-school golf clinic, a challenge like Chambers Bay could damage your delicate psyche by introducing reality . . . sort of like if you joined a D3 college field hockey team and got your elite athlete ass beat like a kettle drum at a Wagner concert.

Of course, the touring pro world is not entirely made of cupcakes.  I once worked for Larry Nelson, a combat vet, and he was definitely not spoiled and soft.  It's the method of climbing to the tour that produces softies.

I learned this long ago from my brother Mike as he studied his college golf options.  "Which school appeals to you?"

Mike stared at me for a moment and replied, "I've played against these guys, hung out with them, I've even met guys who play the tour."

"Yeah? So?"

"Well," Mike hesitated, "They're kind of, uh, . . . sissies.  What if I go that route and turn out sissy, too?"

The next day, Mike enlisted in the US Army Airborne Rangers.  It was a good choice.

Two critical points for Mike Davis and Eric Johnson to consider, from our twisted POV:  First, this outburst of sniveling and whining is actually pre-emptive in nature, a negotiating tactic learned in expensive daycare programs.  They are simply trying to guilt you into softening the course, so they can molest it like they did in East Georgia.

Second:  Due to their impressive self-image and all the technical help they have received, (massive trampoline drivers, custom launch angle shafts, super ball that goes too far, too straight, and flawless agronomic conditions like greens mowed at .085 that reduces putting skill to just getting the ball on line with a gentle nudge) perhaps you could contribute to their fantasy life, rather than deflating it.  Help them out a little, just like the aforementioned gizmos.

I suggest you try my latest invention:  The Bowling Ball Cup Setter.  Simply fit a drilled 16lb ball over the flagstick and set that cup from six feet up.  It's sure to stop the whimpering.