Sense
Though I have spent little more than three weeks in Creston, I am more than happy to report the town feels like home. And this is mostly because absolutely everybody I’ve met has been nothing but friendly — my co-workers first among them. A thousand thanks go out to Scott Vicker, Rich Paulsen, Larry Peterson, Carter Eckl, Melody Stoll, Bailey Poolman, Kaleb Carter and everybody else at the CNA who has been so welcoming.
But I didn’t spend this past weekend in Creston. Instead, my father and I attended the 117th U.S. Open in Erin Hills, Wisconsin. It was a sort of combined birthday and Father’s Day celebration for my dad, who turned 54 on Wednesday.
For the uninitiated, the U.S. Open is a four-day, 72-hole golf tournament; one of the largest and most prestigious to take place each year. When my mother and I discovered it was to be held in Wisconsin just four (or so) hours away from our family home in Iowa City, we purchased two weekend tickets as a Father’s Day surprise. He’d been clued-in eventually, of course. It’s difficult to hide things like this on the credit card bill.
The trip itself was wonderful. The weather on both Saturday and Sunday was up and down, but never did it rain any harder than a sprinkle and never did we feel too terribly uncomfortable in anything more than shorts and short-sleeved shirts. Intermittent cloud-cover, sunshine and winds kept things just interesting enough.
Both my father and I were amazed by the tournament’s logistical wizardry. This was a small patch of grass in rural Wisconsin, 40 minutes from any kind of significantly sized city, that hosted a crowd in excess of 35,000 attendees four days in a row. This is to say nothing of the more than 5,000 volunteers and others required to ensure things ran smoothly.
And things did run smoothly. We encountered very few hiccups in our two day stay — only world-class golf, and a lot of it. My sunburns prove as much. After waking up sometime around 5:30 a.m. each day, we did not return to our hotel room until the late evenings.
It was a little strange seeing these golf superstars in person. Sergio Garcia, Jordan Spieth, Ricky Fowler — I’d seen them all on the television countless times, but being up close and personal was an entirely different experience. An experience highlighted by an occurrence just a few hours into Saturday morning, when Jordan Spieth hit a drive on the third hole that landed no more than 20 feet away from where my father and I were standing. We then watched Spieth chop his ball out of the long grass from this distance, and were almost assuredly caught by the cameras positioned directly across — goggling on TV.
And speaking of TV — attending a golf tournament in person is very different. Rather than being transported from hole to hole in jump-cuts and rewinds, one is limited by how quick their legs can move and how far into the distance their eyes can see. After spending some time on Saturday wandering around the course and getting our sea-legs, we decided to follow around the pairing of Hideki Matsuyama (who finished tied for second) and Brandt Snedeker.
The atmosphere was intense. Crowds of hundreds and even thousands slid like amoebas from hole to hole in pursuit of fan-favorites and leaders. Each green, each grandstand and each tee box served as cluster-points for fans to get close looks at the action.
On Sunday, we spent the lion’s portion of the golfing day stationed on a hill directly above the fourth green. From this vantage point we could see each pairing hit their first, second and — if needed — third shots, as they approached to putt. With the aid of some nifty folding chairs, we found ourselves in a cozy little situation that most around us affirmed to be one of the best viewing points on the entire golf course.
In any case, it is needless to say that we had a great time. And more than just a spectacular golf tournament, this was three or so days that I got to spend with my dad in observance of a shared interest — and in acknowledgement of all my father has done for me (and all he’s had to put up with). And that’s what Father’s Day is all about.
Nonsense
• Had hoped to see more Cyclones in Creston. And yes, we do still “have a football team.”
• Am still unsure if there are more squirrels or people living in city limits. It does seems that the squirrels have a more active population at times.
• When driving into Creston from the north, out of the corner of my eye I sometimes mistake the grain elevators near uptown for skyscrapers.