(Editor's note: This is part of a series in which GolfChannel.com staff reveal their favorite or personal moments of 2014.)
It was a humid night in August when the GolfChannel.com crew and I stepped off the media bus and began the walk back to our hotel after a long day at Valhalla Golf Club. Just before we made it to the lobby, a hulking ogre of a man came barreling in our direction, hurling obscenities at us with the fervor of a sailor driving a truck through an episode of “South Park.”
I sensed a street fight coming on, so I trusted my instincts and cowered, hoping the man would move along. He didn’t. No punches were thrown, but if his words were singles and we were in a gentleman’s club, he would’ve put Floyd Mayweather and “Pacman” Jones to shame. He made it rain.
Who this man was, why he was so angry, his exact words – none of that is important. Let’s call it a big misunderstanding. All that mattered was, I was there. This was the PGA Championship. This is major. And I had a front-row seat.
To quote the great philosopher Cosmo Kramer: “I’m out there, Jerry, and I’m lovin’ every minute of it!”
The tournament was fine, I guess. There was some really good golf and an exciting finish with the game’s newest superstar ending the final day on top, if you’re into that sort of thing.
But the experience of covering a major with the team is something that will last a lifetime. The inside jokes, the witty banter, putting my finger on the pulse of Loiusville, Ky., and of course, getting cursed out - these are things I don't get quite as often at my small desk at Golf Channel's studios. I'll cherish them.
I’m now the butt of a running gag at work because I didn’t see the problem with two bros sharing a hotel room. Again, my bad, Rex.
My other friends make fun of me because I met American hockey legend T.J. Oshie and didn’t recognize him. Damn you, the distraction that is Amanda Dufner.
I got to see Rudy Giuliani just chillaxin’ at a Starbucks like he wasn’t Rudy ‘effin Giuliani.
I witnessed the antithesis of everything good in the world when some animal seated next to me in a restaurant ordered a gluten-free “Hot Brown.” Seriously, she wanted this monstrosity, but please hold the gluten, that's the unhealthy part. People are the worst.
I’ve been asked to do some pretty awesome things for the Grill Room this year.
Take a golf ball directly to my to eye socket while chasing Golfnados. Check.
Channel my inner Charlie Kelly for a mom jeans commercial. Check.
Embarrass myself while reenacting Talyor Swift’s “Blank Spaces” music video – complete with a blonde wig – in the Golf Channel parking lot, while my co-workers looked on in horror. Check.
Somehow this trip to the PGA Championship edged them all out for my favorite moment. My virgin eyes have been opened to all the cool stuff that goes on outside of the office, and I can never unsee it. I hope they send me again next year. I’ve been practicing my cowering.