Dubai Desert Classic

Since I have been in Dubai, I have been attending Mass at St. Francis Church in Jebel Ali (you may remember this from the Jebal Ali Free Zone Bus Ride of Death. I’ve mentioned it before). One of my fellow parishioners is Nishanti and she has been kind enough to drive me back to campus following the 8 AM mass on Sundays. This is highly convenient as she works at the Emirates Golf Club which sits literally across the street from school. Sunday being a workday in the Middle East, she goes from mass to work and I go from mass to campus.

As an employee of the golf club, Nishanti was able (and generous enough) to provide me with three passes to the Dubai Desert Classic, one of the region’s premier golfing events and a stop on the European Tour. From February 10^th-13^th, I watched more golf than is healthy for one person.

My partner in crime was Ryan Nees, a Yalie who is studying abroad at AUD, like me. On our first day, we wandered onto the grounds of Emirates Golf Club, past the vendors, viewing area, and straight into the clubhouse.

Wait.

Clubhouse?

Yes, the passes provided to us by Nishanti read “Member Guest” and right below that “Clubhouse”. This meant we had full access to all the lavish amenities of the region’s most distinctive clubhouse and we were sure to take full advantage of it. From inside, we could sit in comfy armchairs and watch the day’s matches proceed on big-screen TV’s but being the ambitious chums that we are, we concluded our brief tour and took to the links.

While we may be ambitious, we are by no means knowledgeable. Between us, Ryan and I could tell you a thing or two about the game of golf but this is only because we immersed ourselves for three straight days in all the hoidy-toidyness golf culture has to offer. On this first day, we were ignorant as gurgling newborns and so we toddled our way over to where we thought we could see grown men hack at miniature orbs with overly phallic clubs. Sure enough, we found a group of these athletes and began following them. As we found out later, we’d chosen a good group to follow: previous champions of the DDC, Thomas Bjorn and Miguel Angel Jimenez along with Matteo Mannaserro, the youngest player on the European Tour at age 17.

Doing our best not to reveal our ignorance, Ryan and I quietly followed the group through their last several holes of play, picking up terms, rules, and courtesies as we went. The day ended with dinner at the clubhouse. During, we watched the recap on the big outdoor screen as we happily munched our fried food and sipped our overpriced beers. At some point, I mentioned to Ryan that this Martin Kaymer character everyone was talking about was unknown to me before today. Just then, the screen lit up with the current world rankings. Kaymer was ranked second. My eyes scanned downwards and who was that signing autographs not twenty yards away? Sure enough, Martin Kaymer. Naturally, I put on my fair-weather fan hat and raced over for a signature.

Days two, three, and four were every bit as enjoyable as the first. After the cut was made following Day Two, half the original number of competitors remained, allowing us to really focus on the good golfers. Jimenez was not one of them. Despite being the defending champion, he played terribly. My earlier description of golfers as athletes does not extend to all participants of the sport, particularly Jimenez. With a gut that doubles as a leg warmer and jowls that would make Alan Greenspan jealous, Jimenez is the last person you’d peg as a reigning golf champion. In addition to his frumpy appearance, he displayed a healthy amount of rage, sometimes directing it at the fans, other times at his clubs. In what reminded me of Peter Parker’s transformation into Spiderman, it was as if Jimenez was morphing into John Daly before my very eyes.

However, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t help but watch him. Sure we followed Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy and Lee Westwood and Martin Kaymer but none of them had the same appeal as Jimenez. The guy is like your fat friend who is hilarious without trying. Imagine this token character possessing better than average golf skills and you’ve got a rough approximation of Miguel. Hell, his name is Miguel, close enough to call him Mike or better yet, Fat Mike. When I caught him going into the clubhouse locker room after his last round on the final day, I managed to get an autograph. Up close, he is every bit as crabby looking as he appears from a distance. His signature was the equivalent of a dash on the page, a clear indicator that he’d rather be doing something else. Surely, signing autographs for chuckleheads like me is the last thing most athletes enjoy doing but then again, many men Jimenez’s age (47) have a bumper-sticker that says “I’d Rather Be Golfing”. However, even when he’s golfing, Jimenez looks like he’d rather be someplace else.

Fat Mike finished 40^th. Woods didn’t do much better, barely making the top twenty. The highlight of his play came on the first day during (look out, golf parlance ahead) the final approach when, instead of laying up like everybody else, Woods ambitiously drove past the dogleg, getting eagle on the hole. If you’re golf knowledge is comparable to mine pre-DDC, that means he risked hitting his ball in the water, didn’t, and then got the ball in the hole long before anyone else. Everyone cheered uproariously but most people hadn’t been following Tiger around for the last few holes like we had. If they had been, they would’ve realized that this improbably gamble did little to pad Woods abysmal play from earlier in the day.

The tourney ended with a nice come from behind win by Alvaro Quiros. On the last day, Quiros took advantage of everyone else’s crummy performance and decided to play an unbelievable round of golf, the likes of which would be difficult if not impossible to repeat. In recognition of his win, Quiros took him the tidy sum of $419,000. Not bad for four days work.