Oakmont’s driving range had all but cleared out as Tuesday afternoon at the U.S. Open slowly morphed into evening. A couple of players came and went, passing through what had been a bustling thoroughfare for preparation hours earlier but was now just a walkway to the parking lot, most of them well aware of the grueling physical and mental test ahead and the energy required.
Yet there was Tom Kim, tucked in the far corner of the range, up against the media center that lined the right side of the practice area.
Paul Tesori, then Kim’s caddie, bent into a squat, dipping low to get the exact camera angle Kim needed as he sent ball after ball soaring into the hilly horizon line of the Allegheny Mountains. After each swing, Kim stopped to analyze the video and ask a few questions that seemed directed to nobody in particular, until you realized his wireless earbuds were spitting out feedback from someone (Kim declined to say who).
“I need to bend more?” Kim asked after one poor swing.
An empty bucket of balls lay beside Kim, who was now on his sixth divot line. Another full bucket sat at the ready.
One of the few players still hammering balls late into the day, Kim’s part of a club most attempt to avoid: the searchers. The unfortunate individuals desperately grasping for a feeling, a swing thought, or a moment of mental clarity that might wriggle them out of the debilitating straitjacket of unconfident golf. It’s no place to be late in a practice round of a major championship, an admission that whatever you have right now isn’t good enough for the rest of the week. For a keen-eyed prognosticator, it’s usually a good indication of who won’t win.
“One more,” Kim told Tesori confidently after a pure strike.
Set up over the ball, Kim took a deep breath and swung. Seemingly simultaneous to contact, his right hand flew off the club. He hated it. And without talking, Kim grabbed another ball and Tesori squatted down for another video. Maybe Kim meant one more bucket.
