In statistics, it’s the phenomenon called “regression to the mean.” In poetry, it’s the idea that “into every life, a little rain must fall.” In other words, in golf, unlike in finance, past performance is indeed a very good indicator of future results.
Exhibit A: Ricky Barnes. If, last Thursday, you were going to predict a guy to break the U.S. Open 36-hole scoring record, Barnes would have ranked just ahead of the guy hawking black Bethpage golf balls in the gift tent. And yet, Barnes went out and did just that. (Broke the course record, that is. Maybe he sold souvenir balls too, but I can’t vouch for that.)
Golf works in swings, though, and as high as Barnes swung in the first two rounds, you knew a course correction was coming. For Barnes’ sake, you just had to hope his game would regress to the mean sometime later this month.
No such luck. Shortly after breaking into double digits under par and extending a six-shot lead over the field — both astonishing achievements in a U.S. Open — Barnes began giving away his riches faster than that Philanthropist guy whose ads we saw all weekend long. This wasn’t some epic, quadruple-bogey collapse; this was the death of a thousand cuts — or a dozen bogeys, whichever.
From the moment that he sank a birdie on 17 in the third round, Barnes began a steep dive. He bogeyed eight of the next 13 holes, including a stretch of four in a row from 5 to 8 on Monday. He righted the ship with a birdie on 13 and then held steady for the rest of the way, which was still almost enough to win. Had Lucas Glover not played astoundingly grounded golf on the back 9, Barnes could have hung around long enough to vulture a win.
There are already people throwing out the “choking” label, comparing his collapse to Greg Norman’s 1996 Masters debacle. And yeah, throwing up a +6 when all the other leaders are shooting +3 or below isn’t exactly the model of stable, within-yourself golf. But Barnes just flew too high too soon. We didn’t expect him to be where he was.
I’m proposing a one-tournament Choke Mulligan, where we forgive all but the most egregious, Van de Velde-esque collapses. Give everybody a chance to get their feet under them on the big stage before we wallop ‘em. But by any account, Barnes just cashed his in. Bring it home next time, Ricky.
