Every Golf Tournament Should Be As Fun And Raucous As The Phoenix Open

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If you’ve watched more than a couple of golf tournaments on television in your lifetime, you’ve probably caught wind of the Phoenix Open — or, as it’s been called since 2010, the Waste Management Phoenix Open. If you land in Phoenix the week of the tournament and happen to pop into a restaurant or a taxi or rideshare and the event comes up, locals will refer to it as “the Waste Management” in shorthand, which is endlessly endearing.

Most things about the Phoenix Open are — well, if not necessarily endearing, then at least appealing. It’s the best-attended golf tournament in the entire world, every single year, and more and more people keep wanting to go to it. This year, over 719,000 people flooded into TPC Scottsdale over the course of the tournament, and Saturday broke its own single-day attendance record, with over 216,000 stopping by. That’s the day before the Super Bowl, mind you.

The Phoenix Open is always the same weekend as the Super Bowl and the debauchery and partying around this golf event puts most Super Bowls to shame. For one thing, the sheer amount of people present obviously dwarfs any Super Bowl that’s ever been played, but at $50 just for general admission during the final round, patrons can afford to spend that extra cash on getting loaded.

And they absolutely do spend that extra cash on getting as loaded as possible.

Bill Hanstock

The sun is relentless, and there are few places for reliable shade on the sprawling grounds. You’re much more apt to find someone selling wide-mouth cans of Coors Light than you are a comfortable and cool place to pop a squat, and a good many of the spectators will make up for discomfort with inebriation. I saw a man toss his shirt and both shoes into a flowerbed alongside the fairway as a trio of pro golfers were hitting their tee shots, and this red-as-a-crawdad fellow listened to the pleas of the sizable crowd watching him and made an uncomfortable slide down a dead-grass hill, despite course officials and security asking him, pretty please, would you not do that?

As you walk around the Phoenix Open — or hell, even if you’re just sitting in your seat on a given hole, should you be lucky enough to have one — if a group of rowdies should happen to spy to taking a swig of your alcoholic beverage, you’ll be met with an enthusiastic, fervent “CHUG” chant. Peer pressure is a big thing at the Waste Management, but both “CHUG” chant deliverers and recipients are more than happy to oblige.

The Phoenix Open is a tremendously popular destination for bachelor parties, and you’re liable to see swaths of mid-20s men kitted out in themed outfits, whether it’s outlandish suits, matching caddy jumpsuits, or even shirts with a painstaking portrait of Liam Neeson on the back. The hoots and hollers from sauced-up golf fans continue long after the sun goes down and the golf is finished, and the exodus takes the people away from TPC and onward into the night, whether their final destination is old town Scottsdale, bars, strip clubs, or the many casinos that litter the greater Phoenix area.

But the real draw, year after year, is that notorious 16th hole.

When the gates open each morning, the fans race as fast as they can to the line for the bleachers at the 16th hole, which is easily the single most riotous locale in the history of golf. Whether they’re dressed like Teletubbies, or Big Bird, or a beauty queen complete with tiara and high heels, in a full-length gown — people just haul ass for the bleacher seats, because they know if they miss out, they’re going to be waiting quite a while for the pleasure of taunting pro golfers up close and personal.

On Saturday, the line for the bleachers stretched up close to four hours at various points. As bleacher denizens party themselves out — which is no small feat, mind you — they’ll depart and be replaced by a relatively-fresh spectator. But the turnover is slow going, because unless you’re lucky enough to be in one of the 16th hole skyboxes, the 16th is the end-all, be-all of the Phoenix Open.

Bill Hanstock

Perhaps you’re familiar with the iconic scene at the 16th when Tiger Woods sank his hole-in-one back in 1997. If you’re not, take a moment and watch a sea of people react to a golf shot like it’s a Tom Brady playoff touchdown in Foxborough.

The 16th hole doesn’t look like that anymore. It’s now completely enclosed by a wall that features four bleacher sections — which can hold a combined 20,000 people at one time — and three levels of skyboxes that wrap nearly all the way around. There’s nearly no way to see inside the 16th hole unless you’re inside the 16th hole, which sure goes a long way toward preserving that feeling of exclusivity.

Oakley managed a neat trick this year, however, as they took advantage of the PGA’s new focus on virtual reality. For several days of the Open, the PGA app live-streamed in VR at the 16th hole, sponsored by Oakley and assisted by the company handing out complimentary Google cardboard viewers to people wandering by the 16th or waiting in that interminable bleacher line. While it wasn’t quite the same as being there, the VR experience was the closest most of those 700,000 people were going to get to the action all weekend.

Oakley

A typical par 3 at any other golf tournament looks nothing like this, of course. There may be fans at grandstands at certain holes, and they may very well be lightly inebriated. But the attitude and reaction is pretty much what you see and hear on any Tour event you might watch on television: the crowd will dutifully respect the official’s “Quiet” sign; there may be a healthy dose of cheering for a spectacular shot, or a smattering of respectful applause if a tee shot finds the green. Not at the 16th.


Inside the 16th — in the bleachers, in the skyboxes, everywhere — drinking is nonstop, as is the gambling. The most common form of gambling all day long goes something like this: as each trio of golfers sets to tee off, the participating gamblers will pay in the ante — whether it’s $1, $5, or more in some extremely intoxicated scenarios — as a bet on which golfer will land their tee shot closest to the pin. You’ll pick up the money if your man lands closest from the tee box, but beware: if your man ends up bogeying the par 3, you’ll have to pay everyone else the ante. It’s not all bad, though: if your chap happens to birdie, everyone else will have to pay you that amount.

That’s just the most common version of the 16th hole gambling, of course. As onlookers got drunker and more bored, I witnessed a bet on which of the trio would come through the tunnel to the 16th first; later, that morphed into betting on the color of hat that would come through the tunnel first. Toward the end of Saturday — the drunkest day of all — I saw people gambling on some hot air balloons in the distance.

The most desired form of gambling, however, is the caddy race. Every caddy on the Tour is well aware that soused fans are laying money on which of the three caddies on a hole will set foot on the green first. In years past, the caddies used to make elaborate shows of the caddy races: all-out sprints, body checks, staged hockey fights, wild goose chases — but ever since the PGA Tour banned the outright races in 2013, the caddy race tends to be much more subtle. A slight, last-minute veer to remain on the fairway while a compatriot steps onto the green, for example. Chants for caddy races are ubiquitous, and the caddies find cheeky ways to keep themselves (and to a much lesser extent, the fans) entertained.

Not that the fans need a lot of help keeping themselves entertained. Every drive is met with a cheer, which grows to an ear-splitting delirium if the ball should stick and roll near the cup, or — heaven forbid — threaten to hit the pin or drop in for an ace. That same dull roar will drop in pitch and become a tens-of-thousands-of-people groan, which will devolve into cries of terror and then throaty boos if the tee shot finds its way into the rough. If a golfer is unlucky enough to find the bunker on his first shot, he’s going to get an earful. Don’t even think about the scorn he’s going to receive if he manages to three-putt for bogey the 162-yard hole.

(And by the way, if you happen to ignore one of those ubiquitous “CHUG” chants inside the 16th hole, be prepared for a lengthy, lusty boo from dozens, if not hundreds of onlookers. And some serious chiding from your seatmates.)

A good number of players opt not to play in the Waste Management, as they’re not quite up to what becomes of their beloved sport over the course of that boozy week. And even the players who know exactly what they’re getting into are getting concerned about just how freewheeling the event has gotten.

But make no mistake: for the vast majority of sports fans, the Phoenix Open is the most fun you’re going to have at a golf tournament, bar none. That is, if you don’t mind screaming fans, booze by the bucketful, and nonstop gambling. And really, isn’t that what most sports fans are after, anyway?

UPROXX was hosted for this story via accommodations provided by Oakley.

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