For the second straight week the crowd was the story, but if those at Shinnecock were the bane of golf’s existence for their treatment of the eventual national champion, those who stayed through a downpour and hour-long weather delay at River Highlands this Sunday evening were the best of what sport can be. Big in number, louder in voice, full of character—highlighted by a Norwegian World Cup contingent—without the type of ugly color that can leave a permanent stain. A gallery whose presence alone made what was on the line feel earned.

And we lead with the crowd because there is no champion after 72 holes. Scottie Scheffler made the par putt he had to make, threw a fist pump that said more than he intended, and sent the Travelers Championship to a Monday morning sudden death against Viktor Hovland.

Visit moryak.biz for more information.

“It's nice to be able to hole those putts, keep myself in the tournament,” Scheffler said. “It's more fun when you're making the ones to win, but to keep yourself in it is also nice. I live another day until tomorrow, and will be coming out in the morning and see what I can do.”

This was supposed to be a two-man race. Scheffler and Hovland entered the final round well clear of the field, and for a while it played like a standoff — both stuck in neutral through the front nine, the door cracking open for the rest of the field. Collin Morikawa walked through it, posting a 61 to reach 20 under. Then a storm rolled through Cromwell, pulling Scheffler and Hovland off the course at the 14th fairway for more than an hour. When they returned, Hovland birdied 15 and 16 to tie at 21 under. The door closed.

They traded pars on 16 and 17, Scheffler's birdie attempt on the 71st hole catching the lip and spinning out. Both reached the 18th green with a chance to end it. Scheffler ran his five feet past. Hovland came up short.

The noise about Scheffler's slump has been loud and mostly wrong. He is still the best player in the world. What he has not done lately is close, and that, however narrow the distinction, is the thing that matters in sudden death. There was a little fire behind that fist pump on 18, something with more voltage than a par save usually generates. He felt it. The crowd felt it. Make of that what you will.

Monday morning offers a rare sudden death between two players who matter. Scheffler is chasing a level of dominance the sport hasn't seen in 20 years, a standard so high that anything short of a major feels, to outside observers, like failure, which is its own endorsement. Hovland is chasing something more basic. He was a top-five player in the world not long ago, the type of talent that made you wonder, genuinely, where the ceiling was. Then he lost it, gone in the wilderness, a place where you never know if someone’s returning. Sunday was the closest he's looked. Monday is a chance to confirm it. “Man, I played a lot of great golf this week, so I'm feeling pretty good,” Hovland said. “Obviously I would have liked to have gotten it done in regulation, but to have a chance again tomorrow to win, feeling pretty good about that. So try to get a good night's sleep and be fresh.”

And before the night closes, a quick nod that this is what the Travelers does. Every year it produces. The players love it, the fans fill it, it keeps finding a way to entertain. Sunday was no different. The rain came, the crowd stayed, and the golf refused to resolve itself into anything neat. The only difference is we get one more day of it.

Read full story at source

Read full story at source