Windmills and clown mouths

 The U.S. Open returns to Shinnecock Hills in the Hamptons today, and for the sake of golf we can only hope the USGA doesn't turn it into Omaha Beach again. Or, failing that, Pirate Pete's Treasure Chest Mini-Golf, complete with windmills and clown mouths and the notorious Walk The Plank hole.

That's pretty much what the USGA did eight years ago, which was the last time it brought the Open to Shinnecock Hills, a lovely windswept course that surely deserved better. As did the golfers who had to play it.

By the time the tournament organizers got done tricking up Shinnecock, see, the place featured everything but land mines and machine gun nests with interlocking fields of fire.  They always do this at the Open, the goal being to make the tournament "a true test of golf" or some such thing. It's why the green are always slicker than a bald man's head and the rough is a Brazilian rainforest.

This time, however, the USGA outdid itself. And in the process made laughingstock of both a proud track and the Open itself.

What it did was, it took the best golfers in the world and turned them into Merle Fleenor The Carpet Cleaner, hacking his way around Dirt Clod Country Club on a Saturday morning. How ridiculous was it?

It was so ridiculous no one broke par for the tournament. Brooks Koepka won with a 72-hole total of 1-over.

It was so ridiculous Tommy Fleetwood, who finished second, shot a 75 and a 78. 

It was so ridiculous Dustin Johnson, who led at the 36-hole turn, shot a 77 in the third round. Rickie Fowler shot 84 the same day. Rory McIlroy didn't shoot anything, having missed the cut after putting up a fat 80 in the first round.

And Phil Mickelson?

Well, in the midst of shooting 11-over 81 in the third round, he pulled big ol' Merle. Slid a putt wide, then trotted after his ball and swatted it back the other way before it stopped rolling.

Polo, anyone?

It's the Blob's considered opinion he should have been disqualified for that sorry little stunt, but on some level you could understand it. Professional golfers always complain about U.S. Open courses, mainly because they're professional golfers. A more pampered lot you'd be hard-pressed to find.

But eight years ago at Shinnecock, they had more than a point. And once again we were compelled to wonder why the USGA thinks golf fans flock to the Open to see Rory shoot 80 or DJ shoot 77.  Omigod, Martha, DeChambeau's workin' on an 85! Let's hustle over to 18 to watch him come in!

Yeah, no. If golf fans wanted to see that, they'd just head out to Dirt Clod to watch Merle chili-dip a wedge -- and then fling the (bleep-bleep) piece of Calloway (bleep) into the nearest pond, shouting "Hope you can swim, you (bleep-bleep) son of a (bleep)!"

Or maybe he'd just pull a Phil Mickelson. A true golf fan can never get enough polo, after all.

Or windmills. Or clown mouths.