DRAFT Magazine

Perhaps the most creative assessment of whether the International Olympic Committee should allow a sport to compete in the Games was put forth by the Homer Tribune.

Not a subscriber? No surprise. It is based in Homer, Alaska (population a shade over 5,000). Though Alaska was once best-known for its oil and pipeline, it has joined the Lower 48 news cycle again because its governor, Sarah Palin, ran for Vice President last year and will soon publish a memoir called “Going Rogue.”

Anyway, writer Aaron Selbig points out the IOC’s selection of golf and rugby for the 2016 and 2020 Summer Olympics and then muses: What is a sport? He then supplies the Beer Axiom as the arbiter.

It’s refreshingly clear and to the point, like the Ten Commandments or Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address: “If one can drink beer while participating in an activity, then that activity is not a sport.”

Baseball, football, kickboxing and others thus would be eligible to join the Olympics. Bowling, ping pong, golf and shuffleboard are among those that would be denied — along with pole dancing, Selbig suggests, which may be considered a sport way up yonder.

It’s time for the IOC to put this idea into action.

Had Tom Watson sank his 9-foot putt on the 72nd hole of the British Open, it would have been arguably the most amazing victory in the history of golf.

Watson, 59, would have been the oldest golfer to win a major championship ever — by more than 10 years. The most popular American golfer to ever step foot in Scotland entered the 18th hole at Turnberry needing only a par to win.

The last time the British Open was held there, in 1994, I was lucky enough to attend, covering the event for the Glendale News-Press. On the final day, the pin on 18 sat just beyond the front trap on the left, a sucker pin placement. Jesper Parnevik lost the tournament that day by dropping his second shot in the bunker. 

This year, the pin was toward the back and in the middle of the green, a relatively easy spot. But Watson overshot the green. His bogey prompted a playoff, and Watson ran out of steam in the four-hole affair against Stewart Cink.

To watch Watson walk up 18 for the second time that day — knowing the playoff was lost — was heartbreaking. It was hard to know if the crowd’s robust cheering was for Cink, winning his first major, or Watson for his heroic effort. The 59-year-old — a five-time British Open champion — will never have a chance like this again.

As the ABC announcer intoned as Watson sank his final putt, “Thank you, Tom Watson.” And Sports on Tap suggests all fans of golf raise a pint to one of the world’s greatest players who brought us the most jaw-dropping golf weekend in decades.

Everyone expected rowdy fans at Bethpage Black this past weekend — after all, they were awfully vocal during the 2002 U.S. Open, as Sports on Tap noted June 15 — but few expected a beer shutdown.

That’s what happened Sunday evening when hecklers lambasted even the best golfers, such as Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson, as the fourth round started. The first tee turned into golf’s version of a Jets’ game. In response, the United States Golf Association — which runs the tournament — closed beer sales 30 minutes ahead of schedule, at 6 p.m. That move followed an early shutdown on Saturday as well

As reported by Newsday, tournament manager Danny Sink would not respond when asked if any fans had been ejected. Long Island’s top daily also noted that fights broke out among drunken fans who were trying to get cabs out of Bethpage.

The good news for the USGA? Next year’s U.S. Open site, Pebble Beach, is more likely to feature sophisticated spectators who prefer a glass of Merlot to large cups of Budweiser.

Golf spectators (or patrons, as they’re known at Augusta National Golf Club) are generally considered to be a genteel lot. They clap politely after a successful chip and never boo any golfer. The occasional “You da man!” after a tee shot is often the height of their outbursts.

But the U.S. Open at Bethpage Black — which starts Thursday — is different, as the golf world saw in 2002. The New York crowd was pumped up, especially for Phil Mickelson. This year, the cheers for Mickelson will be even louder, as he still seeks his first U.S. Open and his wife, Amy, is fighting breast cancer.

Why is Bethpage so different than, say, Torrey Pines? Aside from being a public course that many spectators have played, New Yorkers are known to enjoy their beers while watching golf. They often start drinking on the Long Island Railroad rides to Bethpage and continue on the course. In 2002, drunkeness reached a stunning level as many sloshed through the frequent rain at Bethpage sloshed.

No doubt security will be tight this year, and out-of-control fans will be removed. At the same time, for those who can stay in control, the simple joy of drinking a beer and walking a beautiful golf course among the world’s best players is hard to beat.

The Masters. The words prompt images of graceful fairways, immaculately cut greens, stunning magnolias, Butler Cabin and the overall beauty of Augusta National Golf Club.

Amid this setting, where nearly 100 of the world’s best golfers compete every year, there’s a little-know benefit for the thousands of patrons, as they are called by the club. While they walk the grounds, they can buy beer for a price that’s more often found in rural Kansas than at a major golf championship.

A beer during the week of The Masters costs $2. True, fans likely have paid hundreds of dollars to buy a ticket to watch the tournament, but once inside, the beer price is so small that they’ll quickly forget the money shelled out to show up. Two-dollar beer is a throwback on par with ice-cream cones that cost a quarter, Milky Way bars that demanded only a dime and other relics of the American past. No doubt Padraig Harrington – who was penalized a stroke Friday because the wind moved his ball after he had addressed it – needed a $2 cup to salve his pain after that.

Regardless of who wins on the course this weekend, the beer-drinking fans will have won as well. Reality will return when they head home and go to their favorite Major League ballpark this month and gawk at beer prices three times as high.