D.C. Getaway Is Delayed a Day

The last Senators game never had a final out. Fans stormed the field, ran the bases, slid into home plate and took chunks of infield sod as souvenirs. So, the Senators forfeited to the Yanks. But the fans had a unique farewell; a game without an end.

Yesterday, the Booz Allen Classic, the PGA Tour's 27th consecutive stop here, came as close as a golf tournament could to duplicating that bizarre piece of Washington sports history. Thanks to biblical rains in the morning and hellacious lightning at dusk, the event was suspended until today, with Ben Curtis leading by eight shots with seven holes to play.

So, a tournament that has been taken from this area by the tour, despite enormous local support since 1980, will end with a forgettable whimper. Anyone who wanted to pay last golf respects to their memories of the Kemper Open, FBR Capital Open or Booz, presumably already did so yesterday. Who will come today at 8 a.m. to see a victory that is a foregone conclusion?

Aside from Curtis's parents and wife, perhaps no one will, except for fans still stuck axle-deep in the muddy parking lots.

Those whose cars escape the Avenel bog likely won't return. Enough is enough, especially when the past 26 years have provided such a pleasant golf diet. For many years, Washington has shared in the victory celebrations of the up-and-coming and soon-to-be famous -- from Craig Stadler, Greg Norman and Sergio Garcia at Congressional Country Club to Tom Kite, Lee Janzen, Justin Leonard, Rich Beem and Adam Scott at Avenel. Each went from good to great or from great to even better.

However, more frequently, the truly obscure defined this event. Once, the winner Morris Hatalsky wasn't even as famous an athlete as his caddie -- former Pirates shortstop Tim Foli. A local favorite, Bill Glasson, won twice here, but seldom anywhere else. Yet former Maryland golf coach Fred Funk showed up almost every year and never won.

How many will want to add the sight of Curtis to this list, merely for the sake of completeness? Few have a taste for final things, even if it's just a friendly up-close second-tier tour stop that is being given its last blindfold and cigarette. Today, will the Booz even be asked, "Any last words?" At least the event was spared a nationally televised execution yesterday. Today's affair will be small but at least free to the public.

Of course, even today may not bring this bedeviled tournament to an end. In keeping with this event's tradition of tornado warnings, flash floods, infernal humidity, obscure winners, suspended play and anticlimactic Monday conclusions, the Booz still holds the potential for one final delicious twist. With enough bad weather luck, the tour's mixed-scuba threesomes could still be swimming here tomorrow.

Yesterday, 46 groups were stranded on the course. If more than four of them finish their rounds today and weather prevents a complete finish for every player in the field, this monstrosity returns again tomorrow. Who but a just deity would ordain such a fate for the tour, which wants to skip town pronto with its last D.C. dollar, but instead remains trapped in a city it has scorned.

At least golfers and fans got one sliver of good luck this week.

"When I got here this morning, River Road was halfway a river," said Curtis, who assumed he would never get a chance to play a shot. Instead, the small groups of fans who ignored the weather had the luxury of watching any player they wanted, often at arm's length -- at least until the lightning arrived.

"It was unbelievable we got to play as much as we did. To the southeast and northwest, they were getting an inch and a half of rain an hour. It was incredible," said Mark Russell, the PGA Tour's tournament director. "We were watching that Doppler radar and we got in a little slot. A couple of storms missed us, but just barely. But then the lightning just got too close."

As a result, the final Booz Allen from Washington was knocked off national TV in a state of complete uncertainty. Who was the winner? What day would the event end? In a symbolic indignity that shows where this event has fallen in the golf scheme of things, the remainder of televised play from Avenel was rescheduled on the Golf Channel.

This week's event, like so many of its predecessors, can conclude in a fashion as goofy as it wants to be. Curtis doesn't care. No matter how long it takes, he'll be delighted, just so long as he joins the extensive list of past champions who have either made their names here or rediscovered their games. Curtis may even go down as the champion with the lowest score ever. After rounds of 62, 65, 67 and a 4-under-par performance yesterday, he stands at 23 under par, two strokes better than the tournament record.

"For me, its obviously a step in the right direction," said Curtis, who won the 2003 British Open but has since fallen to No. 141, No. 129 and currently No. 142 on the tour money list. "It's sad to see a tournament leave that's been here for so long. But that's the way it goes. I wish I could do something about it."

But nobody can. So, when you remember PGA Tour golf on steamy days and thunderous evenings off River Road, just try to remember the best.