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The Tumble in Tulsa
By Brian Murphy
Special to Page 2

I'd invite Retief Goosen to the Cooler this morning, but he's got other duties. Besides, if I gave him directions, he might drive by the office -- three times.


	No matter how long Retief Goosen stares at it, his par putt on No. 18 is not going in.

I mean, I wanted to invite the guy by the Cooler. I wanted to pull him a cold Dixie cup of Sparkletts. I wanted to toast the South African's stone-faced guile at Southern Hills. I wanted to make him tell me all about how it would feel to end Eldrick's streak at four. I wanted to make him tell me how it would feel to look in the golf annals and see the last five majors of 2000-01 list the winners as "Woods, Woods, Woods, Woods and Goosen."

I wanted him to explain his name.

Except that it might take him three tries to drink the water without splashing it on his face. Like the Robert Hays character in "Airplane," who had a drinking problem.

So, what I'm left with is, no guest at the Cooler. And what the American sporting public is left with is, is the worst U.S. Open playoff in history.

Seriously. You're in Tulsa on a Monday in June. You have a chance to watch Mark Brooks and Retief Goosen play 18 at Southern Hills, or you can go climb the giant praying hands at Oral Roberts University.

I'm thinking it's time to get the climbing gear out.

Who would want to watch this nonsense? The winner is one of those two no-names. The loser is golf, and sports in general. This is what happens when Tiger takes a powder. Mickelson does his Miss-el-son thing. Sergio acts like he's 21. Duval's wraparounds get clouded up. Jim Furyk plays like his backswing looks.

After all those three-putts on 18, I'm just surprised no sportswriter went Hindenburg on us and led with: "Oh, the humanity!"

Who's going to show up for the Thrilla in Tulsa? Southern Hills is going to have to hire hot young Oklahoma girls in Daisy Dukes to stand in the road with flares, signalling cars into the parking lot. They're going to have to put up signs: "Free Car Wash With Ticket to Monday's Playoff."

It's almost enough to cancel this Weekend's List of Five. But there are no Monday playoffs for the List of Five; no rainouts, either. We play under a dome, and we get a List by Monday no matter what! Forthwith:


	Tiger Woods didn't really enjoy his week at Southern Hills, either.

1. The Tiger thing
It ends at four. What to make of it? Make of it this: Tiger's human struggle to break par at Southern Hills is the ultimate example of why his four consecutive majors represent the greatest streak of our generation.

It is so hard to win a major. Luck, talent, bounces, breaks, concentration -- if it all comes together once for you, you are one of the chosen few. If it comes together twice, you are approaching deity status. If it comes together three times, you should check your driver's license and make sure your name isn't Hogan. If it comes together four times, you're Tiger, and you're already the favorite for the British Open at Royal Lytham next month.

Call your bookie! (And change the subject whenever he mentions the name "Goosen.")

2. The Rocco thing
Before we sign off on golf, let's just say that there is no player we'd Rather Drink a Beer With than Rocco Mediate. Forget the javelin he uses to putt. This guy is as real as it gets on Tour. He jokes, he quips, he rolls home putts with a curtain rod. He's an automatic in your fantasy foursome.

By the way, who is in your fantasy foursome? Me? I go with Alec Baldwin (underrated comic), Burt Reynolds (for the gum) and Mike Krukow, who kills as a Giants color analyst and is waiting to hit it big nationally. My buddy T.C. is so ticked that I snapped up Krukow in our Fantasy Foursome draft. He went with Bill Murray and some others who weren't as good as mine.

3. A Shaqadelic weekend


	After celebrating his second NBA title, Shaquille O'Neal now ranks with the all-time greats.

The Lakers didn't just TCB in Philly. They helped elevate Shaquille O'Neal into the conversation of all-time greats. He was already there, but now two Finals MVPs add some juice to the argument. A few more wouldn't hurt.

Here's the thing: Forget Shaq's game. I put forth the argument that we have never experienced an NBA player so dominant on both the hardwood and the postgame sound bites. I mean, Shaq is a riot. He's a candidate for the Fantasy Foursome, if he could play golf.

Think about that double dip on and off the court. Who can match it? Jordan? Russell? Magic? Wilt? OK, Wilt could hold his own off the court -- about 20,000 times worth -- but nobody can entertain like Shaq-zam. We're on board.

4. West Coast Baseball in the house!
If I wasn't mistaken, the Angels and Dodgers hooked it up over the weekend, and Edison Field turned into Wrigley with smog. Sweet! The highlights from those epic Blues-Halos games (two walkoff wins for Anaheim) showed a crowd that was on its feet, roaring a ninth-inning bomb for L.A., roaring louder for a Garret Anderson walk-off single, or a Troy Glaus walk-off bomb.

Shoot, man, if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought those fans actually cared! But I know better. It was a sweet moment of delusion, though.

5. Pirates sweep the Tribe
All together now: That's why they play the games! So Browns fans and Steelers fans have something to do between minicamps and training camps. Sort of a summer camp for beer-fueled brawling, an art that will be perfected come the autumn.

Then again, if playing the games means Mark Brooks and Retief Goosen are going to hook it up for 18 on Monday, can we just skip it and go straight to video games? A deep thought to ponder.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Monday Morning Water Cooler" every week for Page 2.