BY NATHAN BIERMA

The chasm that separates professional golfers from weekend

players seems in countless ways unbridgeable.  For professionals

golf is a business-like job, for weekend players an addicting

A rare attempt to connect these worlds was made at this
year's U.S. Open.  Tom Lehman was reflecting on his approach to
the 71st hole with the title on the line, a mis-hit that found
the greenside water hazard.  "I'd have given anything for a
mulligan," he lamented.

Alas, the U.S. Open is galaxies away from the world of
mulligans, and Tom Lehman, golf's feel-good hero, remains without
a U.S. Open title after coming so close in each of the past three
years. 

If anyone accentuates the difference between the PGA Tour
and duffers on the public course on Saturdays, it is Tiger Woods. 
It isn't even the untold millions he rakes in as easily as his
caddy Fluff smooths over a used sand trap; it is his eye-popping
swing.  At age 21, Woods weighs only 160 pounds, but has a hip
turn that could start a lawn mower.  In April he indeed mowed
down the hallowed fairways of Augusta, winning the Masters by
twelve strokes in his first major as a pro, signaling the birth
of a living legend.  Given the ease with which Woods won, many
wondered if the 21-year-old could become the first player to win
a Grand Slam--all four majors--in the same year, an unheard of
feat for most golfers, let alone a rookie. 

But the U.S. Open is not only golf's toughest test, it is
its toughest teacher.  Once again, the USGA this year grew the
rough to jungle-like proportions and changed two par-5's to par-
4's.  That the course was the longest in Open history seemed to
suit Woods, but, especially in the Open, hitting it straight is
of far more importance that hitting it long.  Not only did Woods
find the rough too often, his putting stroke deserted him.  His 
finish of 19th would be considered tremendous for an average
rookie, but Woods has long since been average.

So while the newcomer fell short, three players very
familiar to the Open's final round vied for the title on Sunday. 
Ernie Els won in 1994 and seems to threaten at every major. 
Colin Montgomerie rode the momentum of a career year to
Congressional and stayed in the thick of things after falling
from a first-round lead.  And, perhaps more familiar to such
Sundays than anyone, was Tom Lehman, still searching for his
first U.S. Open title.

Fewer surnames prove as appropriate as that of Tom Lehman. 
Known as the lunch-pail pro for his blue-collar approach to the
most white-collar of sports, Lehman toiled in the gutters of golf
for years before defying the odds and returning to the PGA Tour. 
Veteran of minor and forgotten tours and tournaments worldwide,
Lehman passed up a golf coaching position at the University of
Minnesota, which would have included renting skis to students, to
venture about as far from the bitter Minnesota winters as
possible--the PGA Tour. 

Given such a history, simply making the cut in a major would
seem satisfactory, but Lehman went beyond that to prove himself a
major force in championship golf.  After a close finish in the
1995 Masters, a blown lead at the 1995 U.S. Open, and a 72nd hole
bogey to lose the 1996 Open by one stroke, Lehman finally broke
through last July by holding off Nick Faldo at the British Open
en route to collecting the most earnings ever by a touring pro
and being named tour Player of the Year and ranking number one in
the world.  A long way from the back roads of North Dakota. 

Still he remained in search of the elusive U.S. Open title,
trying to avoid becoming the first player to lead three Opens
after three rounds and lose them all.  Contending with Els, a
former champion, and Montgomerie, antagonist to the raucous
Congressional crowd, Lehman, the good guy in golf, was clearly
the crowd favorite.  Called the best husband and father on the
PGA Tour, Lehman could not, it would seem, taste bitter
disappointment on Father's Day.

Lehman waged a classic back-and-forth battle with Els and
Montgomerie through the back nine.  With the overseas two playing
the 18th and Els leading by one stroke, Lehman lined up what set
up as a perfect approach at the par-4 17th--ideal lie, yardage,
and pin placement for a hooking 7-iron.  That was when whatever
U.S. Open goblins with the name Tom Lehman at the top of their
hit list struck again; mis-hit, and the ball plummeted painfully
into the water.  Lehman was left looking for a miracle--a chip
shot to save par or a hole-in-one on the par 3 18th to force a
playoff.  The goblins had other plans. 

Montgomerie, meanwhile, also one behind Els at 18, pulled a
25-foot birdie putt to leave the sweet-swinging Els the title. 
Montgomerie has his own history of near-misses at majors--a third
place finish at the 1992 U.S. Open, a playoff loss to give Els
his first Open in 1994, and a playoff loss at the 1995 PGA
championship.  Put the 1997 U.S. Open up there for an
unceremonious Grand Slam.  Montgomerie disappeared and broke
down, not consoled by the fact that the next major, the British
Open, would be played at his home course, Royal Troon, which he
grew up playing.

But sad story number one was Lehman.  It didn't seem to sink
in for him as it had for Montgomerie.  In a predictably subdued
state of bewilderment, he could only express confusion.  "I must
still be lacking something.  I know I'm good enough to win one of
these," he said. 

It is the mystery of majors--how Els could seemingly
effortlessly collect a second U.S. Open in four years, while
Lehman sees a third straight slip slowly, agonizingly, from his
grasp.  It was a week that served as a reality check, bringing 
superstar Woods back down to earth, frustrating recovering
alcoholic John Daly, who walked out in the first round, and 
cruelly laying out for Tom Lehman another long road, another
journey filled with potholes and pitfalls, another way that seems
longer than anyone else has to take, this one for the marquee
golf championship for which he has toiled for so long. 

U.S. Open contenders and weekend hackers may indeed exist in
two intranscendable worlds, but that Father's Day at
Congressional, Tom Lehman didn't seem all that far away.  Even
when he wins this prominent championship someday, he will not
seem as typically mechanical as Ernie Els did this year, or any
other champion in other years.  That where the intrigue lies with
this seemingly unintriguing player.  He is a bridge to the real
world, real golfers, real golf, not simply because of his
frustration and failure, for he has enjoyed tremendous success,
but because he reminds us weekend golfers of ourselves, and how
we picture we would traverse the fairways of professional golf
were we given such a chance--efficiently, if not gracefully,
modestly, and appreciative of being payed to play the game of
golf, worlds away. 

The name "U.S. Open" seemed to be becoming a misnomer as

Annika Sorenstam was supposed to be the story.  The quiet
and efficient Swede had won the last two Opens with relative
ease, and seemed in perfect shape to be the first woman to three-
peat at the Open after a Tiger-esque four wins on the LPGA this
year.  Sorenstam is a reluctant occupant of the spotlight--in her
teens she would intentionally blow tournaments to avoid a victory
speech--and still seems something of a disinterested dominator. 
She cares about golf, all right--she stores all her statistics
since 1989 in a laptop computer--but she has not eagerly embraced
a role as LPGA ambassador or rival of fellow star Karrie Webb. 
On the course, though, there often seems to be no stopping her.

If any place suited itself to a historic three-peat, Pumkpin
Ridge by history alone would seem a good candidate.  Less than
one year ago an amateur named Tiger Woods roared back from behind
to win a third straight U.S. Amateur title before turning pro and
promptly turning legend.  The course is by no means easy; it is
peppered with par-5's and rough requiring a weedwacker to manage. 
The 18th hole is a particularly treacherous par 5 with a tee shot
over a miniature forest to a bunker-spotted fairway,  setting up
a second shot over another stretch of foliage to a green guarded
by...more bunkers. 

She struggled to explain it, but just as noiselessly and
systematically as she won the previous two Opens, Annika
Sorenstam promptly worked her way out of contention and missed
the cut after two rounds at Pumpkin Ridge.  The hole that stood
out was the 9th in the first round.  Sorenstam drove into a
bunker, buried her approach in a patch of rough, chopped it a few
feet, and eventually three-putted for a triple bogey.  She was
five over par after just nine holes, unbelievable for the bulls-
eye player.  27 holes later, she was out of the tournament,
trying to remember what she did 62 tournament weekends ago, the
last time she missed a cut.

At the top of the leaderboard in her place was England's
Allison Nicholas, all five feet tall of her.  Pounding drives
down the fairway and holing putts from another zip code, Nicholas
was on pace to break the record for lowest score in a U.S. Open,
by a male or female.

So was Nancy Lopez.  She seemed to come from nowhere to turn
back the clock and shoot three rounds in the 60's, the only one
in the field to do so.  No U.S. Open player had ever shot four,
but as Sunday's final round began, that was not her chief
concern. 

 * * * Pending completion * * *

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