GLENEAGLES, Scotland -- Saturday at the Solheim Cup is traditionally about firing at pins, draining putts and making birdies. Lots of the latter. Lots and lots of them.
Not this Solheim Saturday.
This was a day for finding fairways, finding greens and scrambling for pars.
It felt less like Scotland and more like the high seas.
Temporary buildings and grandstands creaked and groaned like sailing ships in a storm; players and caddies peered down fairways like sailors wary of rising waves; fans clung to raised ground like the survivors of shipwrecks seeking refuge on tiny islands.