For the second year in a row, the U.S. Open finished on a Monday. But unlike last year, when I was in the media tent at Torrey Pines chewing on my nails like everyone around me, watching Tiger Woods limp to victory, this one was a little different. I sat by myself in the semi-dark of my living room, fighting sleep to watch Lucas Glover tough it to the finish line.

This was one U.S. Open that, for those in our time zone, seemed to be a little bit all over place. Already, with the 12-hour time difference, each round, showed live on Ch 23, was telecast a day later in the wee hours of the morning. But with rain delays causing rounds to be postponed, you almost needed a rocket scientist to tell you who was playing what round.

Woulds-coulda-shoulda describes best what the media types hovering around the media area at Bethpage was probably feeling when the final putts dropped. There were at least three great headliners that they were probably planning that woulda-coulda-shoulda happen, but didn't.

Tiger Woods, woulda made his presence felt on the leaderboard if he putted like himself. Was it the lumpy, slow greens that threw him off kilter? Was it the hordes rooting for Phil, his nemesis? Or was it just that he's human after all, blood and bones under that steely, machine-like resolve? A first come-from-behind Major win for the World No.1 would surely have made for a wonderful headline in the Tuesday sports pagers (if not, the front page) of any paper. But it was not to be.

David Duval, the former top golfer in the world coulda made the comeback of the decade by tying for the lead with a birdie in one of the last two holes. But reality bites, and the story about how the former World No.1 who had fallen to 779th on the Official World Golf Ranking making a return with a win in the U.S. Open proved too much of a fairy tale, even for New York. The bright side is that Duval can take a lot away from his tied-2nd finish, and most notably how solid he played down the stretch. He almost seems like a different person compared to that taut, lean golfer he morphed himself into after he won the British Open. That feels like almost a million years and several reincarnations ago. In reality, he's back to his normal self, which means he appears to play much better looking like he's strapped a small animal around his waste behind that Nike shirt. His flexibility and ability to hit it long is still there, and the putts are falling. I would look for him to return to the fray now that inside his head, he knows he's back. This could have been a wonderful way to win his second Major, but it was not to be.

Then there's Phil Mickelson, who shoulda won this year's U.S. Open after a bunch of heartbreak second places in the last dozen years. What a story it would have been if Phil continued his rally after eagling the 13th hole for a tie for the lead. Surely he had the upper hand with his gorgeous swing, and tomes of experience against the unheralded (let alone unheard of) front runners. With wife Amy suffering from breast cancer, his army of fans were chanting his name on the course as if the tournament had turned into a soccer game. Sadly, those dodgey short putts returned to plague him, and he let another one slip away. You may be smiling, Phil, but we know you're hurting and we feel for you. Come back strong, but this year is not to be.

Like many out there, I was probably not alone in hoping that there would be an exciting finish in the end, with one of the favoured protagonists charging through to snatch the silverware from the pretenders to the throne. Unfortunately, I had struggled to stay awake past my usual bedtime only to watch an emotionless journeyman from the Carolinas make his winning putt and pull his ball out of the cup with the same stoic, pokerface he had on through the week.

Let's put it this way, I turned my TV set off before he received his trophy.

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