CHARLOTTE, N.C. — So how do you think Rory McIlroy travels to a golf tournament?
It probably doesn't involve waiting in a crowded terminal for an early-morning commercial flight, which is what Chadds Ford resident Sean O'Hair — the only player on the PGA Tour who calls this area home — was doing last Wednesday at Philadelphia International. It was some 24 hours before he was scheduled to tee off in the first round of the Wells Fargo Championship in Charlotte, May 14-17.
There was a time when the West Texas native, like others positioned somewhere below the McIlroys on the food chain, might choose to use NetJets — a fractional private-jet ownership service — to get around, too. Like in 2009, when he was ranked 15th on the planet. But after falling to 474th at the end of last year, that's no longer as practical.
"It's a great way to go," he says. "But you're burning money."
So you settle for a seat in first class like everyone else who can afford it.
The 32-year-old O'Hair admits he "hates" flying. But it's a necessary evil. He once had an anxiety attack, after winning the Canadian Open in July 2011, the last of his four PGA wins.
"I called my wife that night and told her I couldn't get on the plane," he remembers. "It's the only time that's happened. I had a few beers and waited until the next day."
For last week's trip, he considered driving to North Carolina. "If I left at 6, I could be there by 2," he says, perhaps willing to test certain speed limits.
The way his day was going, maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad alternative.
"I got to the [off-site] parking [facility] and they said there were no spots left, that I should've made a reservation," he says. "Then [at check-in] they said my [golf] bag was overweight by four pounds. I had to tell the guy it was a Tour bag...
"What time do we land?"
Generally he'll arrive at a tourney site no later than Tuesday. He is having a good year — in his seven prior starts, he had finished out of the top 30 only once — and is up to No. 136 in the world, but his current status (he nearly lost his tour card at the end of each of the last two seasons) doesn't get him into pro-am fields.
One of his victories came on the Quail Hollow Club course he'll be playing, in 2009. His caddie, transplanted Australian Shay Knight, lives a half-hour away. So Knight walked the 18 holes before O'Hair arrived to see if there were any changes the two of them needed to know about. Still, it's the first time O'Hair has ever showed up this late.
O'Hair spent eight hours the Tuesday before the tournament with his coach, John Dunigan, the teaching pro at Malvern's White Manor Country Club. On Monday, he tried to spend as much time as possible with his wife Jackie and their four children, ages 10 to 4. He'd missed the cut the previous week at the Players Championship, which he didn't even learn he was in until the Friday before.
He figures he has another good 10 years or so left, and wants to make everything he can of it. He also figures that if he plays 30 events a year and can find a way to be at home Mondays most, if not all, of those weeks...
"It's 300 days," he says. "That's a whole year. It's huge."
Right now he's in a stretch where he's playing five straight weeks. His family will be with him at the last stop, the Memorial (in Dublin, Ohio) in early June.
"It's more complicated [when they're along]," he explains. "But it's a lot lonelier [when they're not]. That's a good distraction.
"I know there's a lot of other things I could be doing. I'm living my dream. But what people don't always understand is, I still have a life to deal with [too]."
A few minutes before boarding, someone he knows comes over to say hello. He's headed with a few friends to play Augusta National.
"Roughing it," kids Sean, who hasn't played in the Masters since 2012. This April he had to be in Augusta the week of the season's first major to fulfill a sponsor commitment, which of course helps pay the bills. Nevertheless...
"You want to talk about a kick in the [groin]," he says. "But you've got to do it. If you want to do this, there's going to be obligations."
He's already been up for four hours. His work day won't really start for another four.
At least he'll have a courtesy car waiting for him once the plane touches down. This week it's a Mercedes SUV, which probably helps make up for those speed bumps he encountered en route.
O'Hair is at the far end of the practice range, under a pretty strong sun, doing what he does: trying to hone his swing, which he'd struggled with a week earlier. He and Knight are a team, functioning as one. Sean hits shots, Shay observes. And takes videos on his cell phone. Then they talk about it before moving on to the next ball.
And so it will continue, for however long is required.
This is their office. There's constant tinkering, and communication. More than once someone watching from behind the ropes will politely inquire, "Who's that?" Occasionally an equipment rep drops by to see if everything is OK. Or even simply to BS. Other players stop to chat as well. One asks about Steve Lucas, O'Hair's father-in-law, who once carried his bag: "Tell him I miss him." It's all rather relaxed, even though there are definitive objectives being addressed.
Sean is most concerned with a flaw that, without getting too technical, causes him to bring the club "underneath" on the downward move. It means his ball, most notably when he's hitting the driver, doesn't always go straight. The misses are more to the left, although he's been losing it to both sides.
"I want to go out tomorrow feeling good about what I've got," he says. "Some days it takes no time. Other days there's not enough time. If you get in the right place, get off the damn range. You're only going to screw it up. When I feel good, I don't think about [anything]. When I don't, I worry a little bit about how I'm going to make it work.
"My coach has this tube of marbles. A yellow marble is a good shot. White represents mediocre. And black is bad. There's more yellow marbles than white, more white than black. The top [of the tube] has a little hole in it. You shake it up and one comes out. At some point it's going to be a black one. That's golf. How do you handle it?"
Everyone out here has his own routine, each trying to reach the same goal. It's tedious to watch, but nothing is done without a purpose. Or appropriate feedback. The laboratory is ongoing, regardless of stature.
"It's an imperfect game played by imperfect people," O'Hair says. "I'm getting smarter about that."
He and Knight have been together for a little over a year. Knight — who worked for Martin Laird, Matt Jones, DJ Trahan and Chez Reavie in the past decade — says O'Hair is easy to work for. Sean, who likes to call people "buddy," says he trusts his guy. How much else matters?
Eventually they'll move on to the short game, first at the adjacent chipping area and then the putting green, which is near the locker room between the first and 10th tees. Along the way he signs a few autographs. It seems like everyone has some type of putting-aid device. And no two are alike. Maybe some of them really do offer legitimate help, in a world where one shot per round can take a guy into a higher tax bracket. O'Hair gets into an animated conversation with Patrick Rodgers. They could be discussing the takeaway. Or the lunch menu.
At some point it's finally enough. "We got a lot done," Sean says. He'll spend another hour getting worked on by a fitness expert that he and a handful of other players pay to follow to many tournaments.
Since he's teeing off at 7:20, he'll be asleep by 9 at the latest. But that's not unusual for him under any circumstances. He's normally awake by 6. On Thursday, the first day of the tournament, it'll be more like 4, since he plans to be at the course by 5:30. Sweet dreams.
First, though, a quiet dinner at his favorite Indian restaurant.
"This week, I'd be very happy with making the cut," he says. "I don't do that every week. But if I do, I succeeded. Then you see what you can do from there. I think it's a very educated way of thinking. It can be very freeing [mentally].
"I've learned to appreciate the journey, in my dark moments. There's no final destination in golf. As hard as we try, we never get there. It's all about what you did today. You learn to not make the failures so important. All that does is frustrate you more. You turn bad shots into bad days, bad days into bad weeks. Pretty soon you're lost and it's a bad year. What do you do with the black marbles?
"Sometimes it gets grueling. So when you're playing great, don't pat yourself on the back. And if you're playing like crap, don't kick yourself in the [butt]. Just go about your business.
"Your work is on the range," he says. "You do not fix anything on the golf course. You play with what you got. In the shower tomorrow, I'll think about the shots I'll have, try to visualize them. Feel it. But warming up is only warming up."
At 7:20, there aren't many folks on the first tee. And those who are mostly are wearing red volunteer shirts. The temperature's in the mid-50s, and it's breezy. Sean is paired with Sweden's Robert Karlsson, who has 11 European Tour wins and Eric Axley, whose lone PGA win came nine years ago. Sean arrives 20 minutes late, thinking he was starting at 7:40. "Just a shorter warmup, is all," Knight duly notes.
O'Hair opens with a bogey, after hitting into a bunker, bouncing his approach over the green and leaving a chip on the back fringe. Ouch. He's fighting himself off the tee, but comes up with exceptional par saves on 3, 6 and 8. He's also caught a bad bounce or two.
By the turn he's finding fairways but just not getting anything close enough for decent birdie ops. He's walking fast. Neither Karlsson nor Axley is playing well, either. And they're playing slow. Bad combo. The crowd has grown a little. On 11, Sean accidentally hits an unidentified object off the ground into Knight's leg while taking a practice swing. "You saw that abuse," Knight says with a smile while he quickly limps away. His father, Robin, who's visiting from England, and older brother Dax, in from Sydney, are part of the gallery.
On the par-3 13th, O'Hair 3-putts for bogey from 35 feet, missing a 5-footer. At 14, he has 95 yards to the pin and hits it 105. He looks at Knight in disbelief. "He hit it too hard," Shay will later contend. But Sean makes another up-and-down, this time from nowhere. Actually, from just outside a water hazard. Four pars later, he's in at 2-over 74. He didn't birdie any of the par-5s, which makes it harder. Yet as he said, he's missed the cut here before. More than once, in fact.
Then it's back to the range for more fixing.
"The difference [between good and bad] can be so minute," O'Hair says.
They work on just about everything, for more than a while. At one point O'Hair says he thinks his club position at the top is "borderline to a cross." Later, he says he thinks when his swing gets short, he's trying to generate power. On his chipping, which let him down in spots, he wants to know if he's coming across his ball too much. "The grass is weird. It seems like it doesn't come out sometimes." Knight assures him it's mostly a function of transferring what he's doing on the range onto the course. "Just time it out a little bit better," Shay offers. "It's [just] a fraction of a second, isn't it? If it's not right, we're opening up a can of worms, aren't we?"
It's about exchanging views and seeking answers. It's not always the answer they wanted or needed to hear. Even on the green, they're still talking about the full swing.
The process never ends.
By around 3:30, they're done. Except for the hour Sean allows for his physical therapist.
That evening it's off to Knight's house for some grilled steaks paired with fine wine and conversation. Shay's wife, who's from this part of the country, and their young daughter are perfect hosts. At the end of a lengthy day, the genuine hospitality puts everyone at ease. No topic seems off limits. Since Sean doesn't head out until 12:40 Friday, it can be a late night. When prodded, he acknowledges being a "little bitchy" during the round, citing the pace of play (close to a 5-hour round) and lack of warm vibes emanating from the rest of the threesome. Rub of the draw.
On the drive back to his hotel, as he's flipping through the radio dial searching for a station that suits his tastes, O'Hair blurts out: "You know, the kids out here now don't even listen to the same music." There's almost a sense of astonishment in his voice. The 57-year-old dinosaur riding shotgun can only nod in amusement.
"...My score wasn't what I wanted it to be," he says. "At this level, no one is satisfied with that. But I didn't play that bad. One thing I don't like is, I'm taking it a little too seriously. It affects your patience. I wasn't having fun.
"I felt better walking off the range. We were bouncing ideas off each other. Part of it is trial and error, as crazy as that sounds. If something doesn't work, find something else. I can do it a million different ways.
"I know I have to play well tomorrow. But if I focus on that, all it does is add pressure. If I stay relaxed and calm...I have no other choice. In golf, the harder you try the worse it gets. You don't live and die by every shot. It's so much more complex than that.
"You can't just judge the results."
O'Hair gets to sleep in, which means he doesn't get up until 7:30. By midday it's still not too hot, thanks to a cloud cover. He estimates the cut will be 1-under, though it could drop to even. This time they're starting on the 10th hole, and the crowd is noticeably larger. So for the first time it actually feels as if they're part of the tournament. Back in the chipping area, somebody lines a shot out of a bunker that flies right over Knight's head. Strangely, it won't be the last time they have to duck out of the way like that.
At 11, Sean at long last makes a bird by rolling in a 12-footer with right-to-left break straight in the middle. The scoreboard reports that he converts 30 percent from that range, which ranks 97th. At 12, he misses a great chance from half as far away. Then he 3-putts 13 again, from almost the same distances (35 feet and then 5) as Thursday. Walking off 14, he's tied with Karlsson, which doesn't seem right because he's striking it better. Especially off the tee. He takes advantage of another well-placed drive to birdie the 500-yard 16th from 10 feet, then nearly chips in for bird at the par-3 17th. The game is on.
At No. 1, with the followers having dwindled to friends-and-family-sized once more, he leaves himself a 10-foot uphiller. "He needs this," a marshall tells us. "I'm rooting for him." Sean obliges, renewing the hope. When someone mentions to Knight that O'Hair would already be 1-under if not for the 3-putts, he succinctly replies: "That's all part of the game."
At 4, after a big drive, he tries to get close to a left-side pin but, after switching clubs, puts it in the sand. From there he comes up 8 feet short. He can't afford to drop a stroke. And he doesn't.
He pars the next four, which include two more par-5s. On the first, he misses the green right in two and can't wedge it closer than 25 feet. At 7, his drive comes to rest a few feet right of a bunker, leaving him with no stance. All he can do is choke down with the ball way above him and punch it down the fairway. At 8, he burns the right edge from 20 feet after a disappointing short second shot. For whatever reason, the scoreboard had him going for eagle.
Karlsson, who like Axley won't be sticking around for the weekend, has driven it into the woods. His recovery back into the fairway flies over the heads of the group's other members. Nobody remembers Karlsson yelling fore.
The ninth measures 495 yards. O'Hair leaves nothing in the bag and leaves himself with 155 in to a left pin. He might need a 3 to get a paycheck. A 9-iron comes to rest 12 feet right. And when it's his turn, he finds nothing but the bottom of the cup. Bang.
As it turns out, the cut would be even so he didn't have to make it. But he didn't know that in the moment.
"Little more stressful than I wanted," O'Hair grins as he heads for the clubhouse after a round of 3-under 69.
On this afternoon there will be no more time on the range. Just additional body work from his muscle guru. And a call home to tell everyone they won't be seeing him again until Sunday night. Good news.
"I had to shoot a score and I did," he says later. "You can pull something away from that, keep it in your memory bank. Would I like to be leading? Of course. But I'm playing good. The way I hit the ball today was totally different [than Thursday]. Don't over-analyze it. The worst feeling in the world from a professional golfer's standpoint is packing your bags [early]. There's not one guy smiling. You see grown men acting like 5-year-olds. It's a hard thing. The preparation is basically all for nothing.
"In the back of my mind, I felt like it might not happen. Sometimes that's the way it works out. Shay kept saying, 'Don't let it bother you.' I shot as high as I possibly could. It could've been a 66. Now let's go shoot a round and see if we can get ourselves back in the tournament. Weird stuff happens. If I keep hitting it like this, and maybe a few more putts go in...That's it. I'm just going to go play. Take care of tomorrow.
"And next week I'll go to Colonial [Fort Worth, Texas] and do it all over again."
On Saturday, O'Hair makes his run. Five consecutive birds and a chip-in eagle three holes later on the par-5 16th vault him into a tie for third before two late bogeys give him a 67. On Sunday, he closes with a 72, which leaves him in an eight-way tie for 20th.
He receives $71,621 for the effort, minus what went to Knight. Which should be more than sufficient to cover the cost of the cookout.
(Mike Kern can be contacted at kernm@phillynews.com or @mikekerndn.)