Getting Fleeced At The Open Championship

   I know that it's miserably hot in Charlotte right now -- it is the middle of July after all -- but it's a little brisk here at the Open Championship at Royal St. George's.

   You're looking for air-conditioning. I'm looking for fleece.

   It's about 60 degrees, the sky is the color of 70-year old hair and the wind is blowing white caps on the English Channel. In other words, perfect for the Open Championship.

   It's tomato sandwich season at home. It's tomato soup season here.

  That's the way it's supposed to be when the golf world convenes for the Open. Augusta does azaleas. The U.S. Open does rough. The Open Championship does weather.

   There's something almost glamorous about the wind and the clouds and the chill, especially if you're not trying to hit a fairway that moves like a Slinky. The Open Championship does many things but it doesn't do sweat stains.

   That's not to say it can't get warm here. It can get toasty but clouds are never far away, promising a respite from the sunshine.

    In playing golf over here, I've learned that it's okay to wear shorts but not the little ankle socks that are part of most American golf ensembles. Two clubs I've visited require golfers who wear shorts to also wear knee socks similar to the type required for girls at some private schools.

   Perhaps that's why so few of the locals play golf in shorts. That and the fear of a suntan.

   Good thing I left my shorts in Charlotte. I needed the sweatshirts instead.