Suddenly Henrik Stenson doesn’t look so silly in his waterproof pants.

And to James who said "it could be worse" while handing out Spectator Guides behind the 16th green in the mist, I can only say, thanks buddy. You got your wish. From now on, don’t tempt the fates.

The mist wasn’t bad. As my wife Debi back in San Francisco would say, "This is third inning night game at Candlestick weather."

It did play havoc with the footing. Severe slippage up the pedestrian- worn hills, but usually it was their own darn fault. You wouldn’t believe what people choose to wear on their feet while walking a golf course in the rain. Calling sandals a bad call today is like saying porcupine quills make lousy pillow stuffing for day care nap time. But heels? And not just one pair. Multiple sightings. Ladies, I understand the indentured servitude allure of fashion, but pray tell, what is going through your mind here?

It is a time tested formula that tells us dirt plus weather equals mud. And wetness added to grass is a distinct indicator of fall- down go- boom. Didn’t you have ancestors?

Then there’s stickage. Continually being poked by one of the numerous pointy ends of a wind blown umbrella.

Umbrellas are to viewing what electro-magnetic pulses are to navigation. Unless, Grasshopper, you master the art of umbrella squatting, as I did on the first green while Bubba Watson saved par with a two footer. Simply find three convergent umbrellas and sneak in from behind squatting in their canopy.

People won’t say anything till after the shot and then you move on. Like a vantage locust.

One thing about the weather: makes it easier to track the ball against the overcast sky.

Chew on that silver lining as play resumes.