Philip Reidon how rain ravaged day one of the US Open as four bogeys in his opening six holes made it particularly miserable for Ireland's top player

NOSTRADAMUS, WHERE were ye? In this day and age of radars and satellite warnings, nobody predicted the woe that befell Bethpage yesterday. As unrelenting rain poured down on the Black Course, making us think that Noah’s ark would be required at some point, the 109th US Open was turned into a kind of water polo match without the fun.

All we got as memories were miserable looks from soaked players who couldn’t wait to hot-foot it off the sodden course; and even more miserable looks from spectators who showed the dexterity and sure-footedness of mountain goats to board the shuttle buses for nearby Farmingdale to take the Long Island Railroad trains back into Manhattan or to places like Mineola or Jamaica or Ronkonkoma.

Anywhere, as long as it got them away from Bethpage State Park with their $100 daily tickets in their back pockets. Even golf nuts know when they’re beaten with wet towels.

There were no such exit routes for Tiger Woods or Pádraig Harrington or Angel Cabrera. The marquee threeball had teed-off in light rain at 8.06 am. By the time they reached the seventh green – at 10.15 am – the siren had sounded to call them home.

Harrington, holder of two of golf’s majors, the British Open and the US PGA, probably wished the rescue call had come much sooner: of the three, the Dubliner laboured more than anyone and was four-over-par through six holes.

Oh, as he bent down to mark his ball on the seventh green, who knows what crazy thoughts whirled around in his head? If only he could turn back time, perhaps? For the walk up and down fairways for the previous two hours had been nothing short of a miserable experience. As it rained cats and dogs, only Cabrera, known as “El Pato” – the “Duck” – managed a wry smile at what was happening and he managed to keep his sanity.

Back to the start.

On the first tee, we got a snapshot of what was to unfold. Harrington, first to drive, found the fairway. Cabrera found the rough. And Woods – a man who’d hit 14 of 14 fairways in his last competitive outing at the Memorial two weeks ago – hit his drive 45 yards left.

“I never saw it,” said a startled Woods as he tried to catch sight of his duck hook.

“Way left,” his caddie Steve Williams informed him.

Fortunately for Woods, it was so far left – in front of the corporate hospitality tents – he had a trampled lie which enabled him to reach a greenside bunker. He got up and down to save par.

Harrington, who had hit his approach short of the flag, a trait that was to pester him for the test of his weather-shortened round, proceeded to three-putt, and Cabrera and he both bogeyed. Strange game.

The fun and games had only started, and nobody appeared to be enjoying the experience. The rain grew heavier, and the challenge for the players increased.

At least they had their trusty caddies – Harrington with the appropriately named Flood, as in the affable Ronan – on hand to protect them from the elements. Those watching had to grin and bear it, moving around the course like drowned rats.

Harrington’s statistics on the US Tour this season are pretty horrendous: 118th in driving distance; 169th in driving accuracy; 164th in greens in regulation; 136th in putting, and 125th in scoring average.

Yesterday, there was no ray of sunshine in correcting those stats as the Irishman – winner of two of the last three majors – continued to struggle with his game.

This was a day to grind, and the ultimate grinder was having another off-day. As players marked their balls on reaching the greens, an army of greenstaff with squeegees in hand did their jobs, squeezing the water off the putting surface in what was to prove a vain attempt to keep the show on the road.

On the third, further proof of Harrington’s problems came when his tee shot finished almost 90 feet short of the flag on the par 3. It took a good two-putt from Harrington to make par, but his propensity to live dangerously caught up with him on the par 5 fourth hole where his drive plunged into deep fescue between the clusters of fairway bunkers and he ran up a bogey.

Then, on the fifth, Harrington and Woods pushed their drives down the right.

“No, God damn it,” shouted Woods, watching his drive veer to the right. The gods listened, the ball hitting a tree to stop it disappearing altogether.

Still, Harrington and Woods were to share double-bogeys on the hole, although the American at least managed to bounce back with a birdie on the sixth.

There was just no let-up for Harrington, his woes continuing on the seventh where he pulled his drive left into rough and could only pitch back out on to the fairway.

It came as a huge relief to him when the siren sounded as the trio of major winners approach the seventh green, where all three marked their balls and left with the hope that things could only get better whenever the green light was given to return.

At that point, Cabrera was level par, Woods one over and Harrington four over.

For the Irishman, it couldn’t get any worse.

Or could it?

The dark clouds that hung over Bethpage certainly reflected his mood.