I enjoy the U.S. Open for the obvious reason. All those guys who make this subtly maddening game of golf look so easy wind up being reduced to mere mortals. You can see it etched on their faces as the tournament marches on. First, their expressions turn somewhat quizzical. Then, as the scores climb, their brows furrow in frustration. Finally, as the course beats them down, the veins in their neck begin to pulsate and bulge.