So it begins. We are facing a very serious trimester. A season of bifurcation. Crunch time for USA. 18th hole of the Open, down a shot, facing a monster par 5 that has become reachable because of swirling winds that move predominantly forward -the gusts threaten to knock you down on your face as you size up your drive. Water on the right, waste on the left, bunkers guarding the periphery and any approaches -bunkers to make grown men cry. The whole fairway drains into the water on the right, and green is elevated, a lofty goal. Black hole rough and ashen waste protect you from out of bounds on the left. A single tree sits in front of the tee box requiring the player to go right or left, but the shot has to be cut or drawn back to the center. Whatever happens, like any golf shot, we’ll get the lie that we deserve.