THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, July 13, 1996 TAG: 9607130300
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C6 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JIM DUCIBELLA, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: WILLIAMSBURG LENGTH: 91 lines
Tom Swift would gladly have given his electromagnetic digital hyper-mega gizmo to be in Stewart Williams's shoes Thursday at the Kingsmill Golf Club.
In the backyard of Williams's condo hard by the James River, anchored by three rocks, sat ``Thor Guard.'' It is a five-foot tall white pipe, inserted into a tripod, with a large bundt-cake pan turned upside down on top, and three smaller pans turned upside down just beneath that.
A black cable cord runs indoors from the bundt pans to what resembled a small microwave oven with white buttons. Turn that on and up pops an old TV test pattern, under which are the letters, in pink, ``LHL.'' That's weatherese for Lightning Hazard Level, detected by the outdoor hardware.
When the LHL rating, which starts at zero, reaches 6, a warning siren goes off and Stewart Williams starts shouting for the PGA Tour to gets its members off the golf course.
On the desk in Williams's office are two black laptop computers. One is plugged into the National Lightning Detection Network. With it, Williams can detect lightning strikes anywhere in the United States, 15 seconds after they happen.
But lightning wasn't the problem Friday. Big, bad Bertha was.
Williams's other laptop was connected to the Doppler radar station nearest Kingsmill - in Wakefield, 20 miles away. It is with that laptop that Williams tracked Bertha Friday, giving him information on its possible impact on the Michelob Championship and the thousands of people involved.
Williams looks like the boy scientist Tom Swift was. He turns 27 Sunday and has a degree in meteorology from UNC-Asheville. He is co-founder of the Mobile Weather Team. Four years ago, he and his partner signed a contract with the PGA Tour to attend its ``weather-sensitive'' tournaments.
They staffed eight the first year, 15 the second and between 20 and 25 last year - including Kingsmill. This year, Williams will work 30 regular PGA stops; his partner is handling 30 Senior Tour events. They've just hired a third meteorologist to start attending NIKE Tour events.
Until this week, hardly anyone knew Williams was even on the grounds here. Since the Players Championship in March, the Tour has endured just four or five days of rain, no lightning and no suspensions of play.
But with hurricane hysteria as much a part of this Michelob Championship as birdies and bogeys, Williams' condo has drawn a steady stream of official visitors and he hears his name on the walkie-talkie about once every two or three minutes.
Moments after Williams assures a Kingsmill buildings official that it's probably OK for him to go home Friday night, PGA official Mark Russell and an official from Michelob drive up to the condo. It's 4:30, Russell figures he needs another 90 minutes of moderately dry weather for the entire field to finish a second round few thought would advance as far as it has.
``OK, where are we?'' Russell asks.
Williams points to the laptop on his right, to the area representing Williamsburg.
``That little white color is just drizzle, right?'' Russell asks.
``Yeah,'' Williams replies, pointing to a deep blue splotch around Newport News. ``But here's what's coming. This band is 15 miles south of us, and moving 13 miles per hour. We've got about an hour. . .''
``Before the blue stuff gets here?'' Russell interrupts.
``Yeah, but we're living large already,'' Williams replies.
``Yes,'' Russell agrees, ``the golf gods have smiled on us.''
``Don't these guys know there's a hurricane coming?'' Williams teases. ``Can't you tell 'em to play a little quicker?''
Russell smiles ruefully. No, he can't.
Fortunately, the last group straggles in at 6:15 p.m. At about that time, Williams gives Russell a forecast for today that causes him to delay third-round tee times until past noon and to use the first and 10th tees.
As Williams concludes his conversation with Russell, the laptop on the left starts chirping.
``Beep . . . beepbeepbeep . . . beepbeep . . . beep . . . beepbeepbeepbeepbeep.''
They're lightning strikes in Hatteras, some on land, some in water.
The hard rain finally comes just when Williams predicts it will.
Considering the fact that hurricanes are the most difficult storm to chart and predict, Williams has had an exceptional day. Conditions figured to be pretty grim around here Friday night and this morning, but Williams was preaching flexibility.
``Even though the forecast looks real bad, there's always room for a silver lining,'' he said. ``I always tell people to be optimistic. Mother Nature doesn't play by the rules.''
A visitor is getting ready to leave when he spies a black metal box in Williams's backyard. Another piece of important, highly sensitive equipment?
``Important, yes,'' Williams says. ``It's a barbecue grill. I use it to cook my steaks.'' ILLUSTRATION: MIKE HEFFNER
The Virginian-Pilot
PGA Tour meteorologist Stewart Williams updates PGA on-site
tournament director Arvin Ginn, left, on the march of the storm
toward Kingsmill Friday. What had been a quiet beat for Williams
suddenly has gotten hot. by CNB