On Dustin Johnson, Defining Bunkers, and the Mirage Known as Whistling Straits

This isn't going to be a case that Dustin Johnson didn't break a rule in the final round of the PGA Championship. At no time will I say that the PGA of America made up a rule. No cynical quips will come from my mouth saying the ruling would have been different if it were Tiger or Phil in that situation.

My gripe with the PGA of America (and Pete Dye) is that this was ever an issue in the first place.  

Whistling Straits has some immeasurable number of what Pete Dye calls bunkers - spaces of sand that were put there on purpose to serve as a hazard to players. Since the official count of bunkers is unknown, the actual definition of what is a bunker is in question. With that logic, the PGA of America decided to take the easy way out and declare every spec, every inch of sand as a bunker.

By taking this cop out of a local rule, the PGA of America could hold its hands up in the air in the event a situation like this happened. After telling an angry mob, "Whoa, buddies," they could point to the rules sheet and say, "Rules are rules."

Effectively, that's what Mike Wilson did on Sunday night when speaking with Peter Kostis on CBS about the ruling that cost Johnson his spot in the playoff. Consulting the handy-dandy supplemental rules sheet, Wilson said the players knew of the sheets, had a copy placed in their lockers, and that Dustin should have been more careful.

All true. Problem is that Mike Wilson was not fully truthful with Kostis. He withheld a key line in the local rules that would have made the definition of a bunker much clearer for any player. The sheet has a note that states, "Where necessary, blue dots will define the margin of a bunker."  

On national TV, it seems like a good time to share that key point. Unfortunately, Wilson didn't share that key piece of intel which would have significantly hurt their defense.

Further, if there were blue dots defining that bunker at any point during the week, they were long gone by Sunday afternoon. Why? Because thousands upon thousands of people had apparently been standing in it all weekend. The PGA of America allowed for the spectators to stand in a hazard - hundreds of them. They were throwing trash in bunkers. Some probably took a leak in a bunker or two. Maybe a love child was hatched in one after hours.

No one stands in bunkers on the PGA Tour. For as much as I joked on Twitter that the Tour is now considering a "bunker seats" package for the 2011 Players Championship, this kind of thing just never happens. The rule of thumb typically is that if patrons can stand there, it's in play and not a hazard. Fans don't sit in water hazards, however refreshing they might be.

Certainly, Dustin Johnson shouldn't have gotten to that point in the first place. A colossal block like that on the 72nd hole of a major championship had Johnson ripe for a second chokejob in a major in the same season. Conjuring images of 90s era Phil Mickelson, Johnson hit as wayward of a drive as he possibly could in that situation. At least Phil Mickelson was saved by a merchandise tent at Winged Foot in 2006.

Even still, with Johnson being so many yards off of the beaten - and I mean beaten - path, the rules official with the last group should have been omnipresent. The official should have tailed Johnson all the way to his ball, stopped him before any consideration on how to play the shot, and said, "Dustin, that's a bunker." Or tried to spy some blue dots that might have outlined the thing.

When playing my local munis, I can walk upon a patch of dirt and sand like that one and think, "That's hardpan. I can ground my club." That's probably what Dustin Johnson did, relieved that he had any kind of lie following such a big miscue. He wasn't thinking about the rules sheet distributed at the beginning of the week. Yeah, he should have been. Or his caddie should have had it written on his hand like Sarah Palin does to remember, well, anything. Even still, in the moment, six square feet of sand and dirt never appear to be a bunker. 

New rule: if a dog can dig a space into dirt in less than ten minutes, it's not a bunker. It's a waste hazard.

Having been at a bunch of major championships, the foot traffic is brutal on a course. Grass is trampled and, often by the end of the week, new soil and sand are where grass once grew. Who knows how many bunkers - by the PGA of America's definition - were created this week by spectators.

In 2007, the USGA held their US Senior Open here. Mike Davis addressed the bunker definition by sticking a rules official with every group and commanding them to shepherd in players that might be lost in the grazing fields off of Lake Michigan. They were the way, the truth, and the light to shed on what was a bunker. 

David Price, the PGA of America official assigned to the final group on Sunday, clearly missed the mark.

And what's to say that Johnson, or any slew of other players, didn't commit the same offense this week elsewhere at Whistling Straits? Without cameras on every shot - and with CBS showing so many damn commercials, we missed a lot - these kind of vagaries likely went unnoticed. Undoubtedly, any situation like this was immaterial to the outcome of the championship, but the oddity here is that Johnson was caught because he was playing so well.

Dustin Johnson said that the rules officials told him, "Any piece of sand is a bunker." Any? Forget filling in my divots ever again for fear that I incur the wrath of God for creating a bunker by mistake. When my local club fills in punchmarks from aeration twice per year with sand, I'll be sure not to ground my putter.

It is absolutely true that it is incumbent upon the player (and his caddie) to know the rules - even the local ones that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. By his own admission, Johnson never once scoped out the rules sheet. As Roberto de Vicenzo would say, he is a stupid for doing that. At the same time, these guys get a sheet every week on Tour to share the bizarre quirks of the track for that week. Invariably, they are only designed to share the news you don't want to have to recall - what color the stakes are for hazards and other bad karma no one, much less the guy who choked away the 54 hole US Open lead, wants to think of inviting into their life.

Johnson and his caddie are to blame. The PGA of America shoulders some serious responsibility for lazily making a blanket ruling, then not assigning the proper resources to marshal the instructions. Oh, and for also leaving out a key piece of information on national television. If I wanted that kind of chatter, I would have watched MSNBC or Fox News. I watch golf as a respite from posturing, half-truth, and incomprehensible black & white definitions of complex issues.

Really, though, Pete Dye should not get off without some blame, too. This is his track. It's his baby. His Guernica even. And now it's marred for life.

Earlier in the week, the broadcasters, Dye, and Straits-logo inspiration/course owner Herb Kohler boasted about the 12,000+ truck loads of sand brought into Whistling Straits. And for what? To create random, often untouched sand areas? The functional intent of supposed bunkers that wouldn't hold a Frigidaire befuddles me. It looks great, sure, but at the cost of playability and a number of sprained ankles.

Where else on Earth does this happen? Some ice course in Antarctica where the whole layout is one frozen hazard? This is such an anomaly in professional golf that the PGA of America should have gone out of their way to clearly delineate any bunker that could have been remotely questioned as a patch of dirt, or something other than worn grass. The other feature more ridiculous in major championship golf is Royal Liverpool's in-course out of bounds - basically creating a stupid picnic area inside of a golf course.

The end result for Whistling Straits is that it is a bazillion dollar investment to mask TPC Sawgrass as some kind of links golf course. The challenge - like most Dye course - is prescriptive. Hit it here. Then here. And two putt. Repeat. Superimpose Ponte Vedra Beach's Stadium Course over many elements of Whistling Straits, and it becomes clear that the money spent to create "Ballybunion on steroids" was really just to create the illusion of a unique test. 

The Straits course has its strong points, yes, but so many unnatural design features cannot be masked by wispy grass and gorgeous views of Lake Michigan. Each time CBS went to the MetLife blimp shot and panned out to the whole property, the clear difference between the Straits course and the surrounding farmland became clear. The sign of a great golf course is an integrated approach - one where the grounds of the course blend in with the surroundings, not stand out like a pair of Loudmouth pants.

Dye's course hosts the PGA Championship in 2015, and the Ryder Cup in 2020. This course will change by then. It must if it intends to be a major championship venue beyond an unproven few decades.

Like Naomi Campbell, Whistling Straits is the prettiest girl in the room. The blinding beauty is such that it can hide all of its character flaws - the contrived greens, awful closing hole, and faux-natural surroundings to hide target golf. In a zany recent twist, Campbell was recently outed as a recipient of blood diamonds.

Whistling Straits has blood on its hands. It's a triple murder - a suicide and a homicide. And the third death? A massive heart attack.