Ron Kantowski takes in the sights, sounds and smells over the weekend at the Frys.com Open golf tournament

By Ron Kantowski

Monday, Oct. 15, 2007 | 7:24 a.m.

Mark Twain once famously described golf as "a good walk spoiled." But that's only if you are playing. If you are watching, as I discovered this weekend at the Frys.com Open PGA Tour event at TPC Summerlin, it's only a good walk spoiled if you forgot to bring sunscreen.

The shuttle

Part of the reason locals don't attend our local PGA stop is because Tiger and Phil don't play. The other part is that there's no place to park your BMW.

Golf fans are asked to take a shuttle from two nearby lots, including the Suncoast 's , and if there's one thing locals don't do, it's take shuttles. If there are three things locals don't do, the others are watch batting practice and stay until the end of UNLV football games, but those are stories for another day.

However, in what surely must rank as the biggest upset since Truman vs. Dewey in '48, the shuttle I rode to the TPC was nearly filled. It was a nice, clean bus, too - more well-appointed than Ricardo Montalban's Chrysler. Festive, casino-style upholstery disguised any stains golf fans may have left behind (although I've never known one to do so) and the stainless steel sink in the back had nary a hard water mark.

A sign at the shuttle stop cautioned against bringing beverages, signs and ladders - ladders? - onto the tournament grounds.

My first thought was I hope nobody stayed up all night trying to cleverly incorporate "Dicky Pride" and "Golf Channel" onto a banner in an attempt to get on TV.

My second thought was I hope none of the bulbs on the electronic leaderboards burn out. Because without a ladder, it was going to be awfully hard to replace them.

The Fez

Donald Fagen and Walter Becker - you may know them better as Steely Dan - will be happy to learn that you can't do the Frys.com Open Benefitting the Shriners Hospitals for Children without The Fez on.

I hadn't even made it past the putting green before literally bumping into a guy with a physique that resembled Craig "The Walrus" Stadler's. Only he was wearing a maroon fez that was encrusted with so many baubles that it must have taken the contents of three South African gold mines to build it. And that long, shiny black tassel dangling over the side - Seabiscuit would have been proud to have a mane like that.

I was going to introduce myself to the man, tell him that I think it's great what the Shriners are doing for all those kids. And that I thought his hat was way cooler than one with "Cleveland" or a little shark on front.

But then I thought he might want to shake my hand, and I really wasn't up to being joy-buzzed that close to the putting green.

The fan

It costs only $5 for general admission to the tournament. But in a remote corner of the course I spotted a fan on the outside looking in. For free. He brought a lawn chair and binoculars and his tee times from the morning paper and his little dog, a Patterdale Terrier. He was peering through the wrought-iron gate separating the TPC from one of the myriad gated communities that surround it, as if Palmer and Nicklaus were going to be trudging up the 12th fairway at any moment.

The funny thing is that the man lived no more than 150 yards away - in one of the bazillion-square-foot castles on the 13th fairway. He said he had a good job working for a good company but wouldn't tell me what he did or who he did it for. He also wouldn't tell me his last name, but said I could call him Andy.

The only thing I could figure out is that Andy is really a secret agent working for the Russians. Or that he was embarrassed about not paying the five bucks to get in.

The disgruntled player

A few minutes later, much to Andy's delight, Palmer did come trudging up the 12th fairway. Only it was Ryan Palmer, the pride of Amarillo, Texas. He did not have an army following him, only two Shih Tzus who were yapping that the touring pro did not have their permission to play through.

You are not going to believe this, but those dogs stopped barking, or at least went inside, when Palmer hit an approach shot that he apparently didn't like. I say this, because a moment after he hit it, he disgustingly tossed his notes for that hole directly into the prickly shrubs sprouting from the rough.

The Shih Tzus then started barking again, their high-pitched yips not nearly as annoying as a temporary case of the same that had turned Ryan Palmer of Amarillo, Texas, into a litter bug on the 12th fairway.

The happy player

A few minutes after Ryan Palmer of Amarillo, Texas, had passed by, mostly ignoring his amateur playing partners - as most of the guys who hit it long and straight are wont during these pro-ams - another group came strolling up the fairway. They were laughing and joking and carrying on. It sounded like Al Czervik's foursome in "Caddyshack."

One of the guys wearing long pants, who had spotted me talking to Andy, the Russian spy, talked like one of the Bee Gees and motioned me over.

It was Gavin Coles of Australia, who has two top-10 finishes in 24 starts this year. But based on the smiles of his amateur partners, Coles is the leader in the clubhouse when it comes to being a nice guy.

Coles wanted to know what Andy's story was and what mine was and so we interviewed each other on the way to the 13th tee.

Though I am sure I have interviewed Greg Norman during his round at least once or twice, I told Coles that I had forgotten when the last time was. And that it was nice, for a change, to see a pro interact with the amateurs as if they didn't have cooties.

"I like to keep it light," said Coles, who was playing OK, but certainly not shooting light bulbs out on leaderboards. "I like the format, really. This is sort of like playing with my parents."

Judge Smails should have been so lucky.

The legend

The most famous golfer on the course during the first round was wearing short pants. Outside of striking out Barry Bonds with the bases loaded, there's nothing that Las Vegan Greg Maddux enjoys more than a good walk spoiled.

One of the guys wearing long pants in Maddux's group was Phil Tautarangi, who won this event in 2002. I wonder if it bothered him that the Golf Channel cameramen were paying more attention to the knobby-kneed guy in short pants with the filthy backdoor changeup?

On the ninth hole, Maddux took a driver with a clubface that was slightly bigger than John Kruk from his bag, gripped it and ripped it.

PING!

(Oops, wrong manufactuer.)

MIZUNO!

Had the ninth fairway been Wrigley Field, Maddux's ball would have sailed over the ivy and cleared Waveland Avenue.

Better make that Sheffield Avenue, which is the street beyond the right-field bleachers. Maddux hit the ball a country mile, but it landed in the right rough.

As Hawk Harrelson, the former Red Sox slugger, once said, the hard thing about golf is having to hit everything directly over second base.

The downhill lie

One of the changes with new sponsors coming on board this year is The Hill, a giant tent and lounge backing the 16th green where fans are supposed to go drink and eat and watch football on big screen TVs and get rowdy, so were Tiger Woods ever to show up here again and hit his ball behind a big boulder, they could come out and move it out of the way, like they do in Scottsdale.

The party apparently was still on the front nine when I arrived. But because I was there and slamming Diet Cokes like John Daly and the portable toilets were looking more pristine than the fairways at the crack of dawn at Augusta, I decided to investigate.

Once inside, I discovered the facility had been parked on a slope that although gentle, still resulted in a tricky downhill lie.

It wasn't Sunday, and I wasn't wearing a red golf shirt with black slacks. So I was quite certain that nobody would be rushing out of The Hill to set me straight.

Sometimes, you just have to play it as it lies.

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