looked up from his newspaper and elbowed his dozing brother.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, look who's on our flight!"
Bobby Markison, still hung over from last night's post-wedding party,
opened his eyes and sat up. He glanced at his brother, who pointed
across the waiting area of Gate 12 at Chicago O'Hare International
A man in his early 30s, tanned and fit, with gray eyes and short,
dark hair, moved with a straight-shouldered, almost-military erectness
as two airline personnel escorted him to the jetway door. Everyone
was watching, and several hastily found cameras flashed, but the
man made eye contact with no one and the group disappeared into
"The guy wins the U.S. Open and three hours later, he looks
bummed out," Bobby said, sliding back down in his seat. "What's
"I don't know," Nick said. "He was fine yesterday,
during that TV interview. Then, today, he gets six birdies in the
last nine holes, shoots a 29 in the rain on the back side, and he
never cracks a smile.
"It's strange. A guy wins a tournament, and usually he's kissing
the trophy and holding it up for everyone to see. Leary handed it
back as if it was going to bite him. And he didn't say a word. No
speech, no interview, nothing."
(End of excerpt)