Print this page  |  Close Window

By John Maginnes
PGATOUR.com Contributor

One down; three to go. One city filled with creeping, crawling, wonderful traffic put in the rear-view mirror. One megalopolis moving at breakneck speed into a hazy and polluted future down. One multicultural hoard left behind to be replaced by another and another and another.

Rabid Boston fans cheer Justin Rose after a holed shot in 2006. (WireImage)

You don't need me to tell you that the PGA TOUR Playoffs for the FedExCup could not have gotten off to a better start. Tiger Woods' absence at The Barclays has only fueled the excitement. No one could have predicted that he would fall as many as three spots in the standings and start the playoffs behind three players.

While it is certainly Tiger's prerogative to choose his own schedule, one element of speculation surrounding his decision to skip The Barclays seemed to be overlooked. One question went unasked. How could he skip New York?

The Playoffs are a tour of America's great cities. New York, with its vibrant style, kicked off the tour with all the energetic apathy that the natives could muster. They can't help the apathy part, it is their way.

The unique collection of neighborhoods that make up Manhattan beckons those of us who get swept up in its madness on a temporary basis. The simple decision about where to have dinner can cause adolescent frustration in even the most seasoned traveler. There are just too many choices.

Almost immediately after Steve Stricker was declared the champion of The Barclays, I was headed south to Gotham for an evening with friends. My experiences in New York over the years have ranged from pleasant to outrageous.

As a joke (I think), my friends and I met at an upper East Side spot that was rumored to have an affiliation with pop star Justin Timberlake. It claims, of all things, to serve "authentic Southern cuisine."

Perhaps my friends on the concrete island wanted to know what a real Southerner thought. There was a conspicuous absence of grits on the menu but they did have fried dill pickles, and the actress that waited on us was named Scarlett. Even I couldn't make that up.

As I sit here in the Delta terminal at LaGuardia chewing on Tums and waiting for a flight that has been delayed for three hours, I can only imagine what the next three weeks have in store. The anticipation keeps me from loosing my cool with the worker behind the utter lack of "information desk" or committing suicide with a fountain pen.

A quick stop at home, and then off to Boston. As if Tiger defending isn't enough reason to be excited, we are talking about Boston. Boston is the home of the Red Sox, chowder and the finest Italian restaurants in the country.

With the Red Sox out of town, the sports fans of New England can focus all of their attention on the most popular athlete in the world -- and those who aim to bring him down. But at the end of the day, you still have to eat. A walk through the north end of Boston is a symphony of olfactory delights. The aromas of spices and sauces are replaced a few steps later with air thickened by bakeries and coffee houses. No Starbucks or Macaroni Grills here, only the real thing.

After Boston there is no rest for the weary -- or the full. No, the ungrateful slave drivers who pull the strings of my meager existence are forcing me to the Midwest the week following Labor Day.

Cog Hill is one of my favorites. So are Michigan Avenue, Navy Pier, the Institute of Art and Wrigley Field. Perhaps no major city in the United States enjoys summer as much as the Second City. Maybe that is because they spend so many months each year looking forward to it.

If the New York fan feigns blasé, the Chicago fan is just the opposite. Some of the biggest, most raucous and knowledgeable galleries descend on Cog Hill to see the game's best.

For decades they have braved oppressive July heat to enjoy their annual tournament and it hasn't dampened their enthusiasm. One can only imagine the fever pitch that will echo throughout the plains in the relative comfort of September. The steaks are pretty good there, too.

The fever pitch of the Playoffs culminates in the jewel of the South. Bobby Jones' ghost shadows the walls of the East Lake clubhouse home of THE TOUR Championship presented by Coca-Cola.

For far too long THE TOUR Championship has been the final shot that few heeded in the PGA TOUR season. That is about the change. "Hush y'all" signs may not be strong enough language to quiet the throngs waiting to see who wins the inaugural FedExCup. But you can't play golf at night and Atlanta does night as well as any city in the country.

The top 30 players on TOUR will visit four great cities in four weeks. More than five times that many members of the media and TOUR staff will come along for the ride, as well. It is hard to say who will have more fun. If they gave FedExCup points for fun, I would still be on TOUR. When it is all said and done, I think that we are all in for an unprecedented amount of fun.

John Maginnes played the PGA TOUR for a dozen seasons and earned $1,474,747.

The opinions listed here are solely those of the writer.