Heading into Saturday's play at the 109th U.S. Open, golfers and fans alike had reason to fear a repeat of Thursday's abbreviated session. A flood watch was in effect, with as much as two inches of rain possible on a golf course already saturated from the soggy spring.

The morning golfers would have ideal conditions, with sunshine belying the damp, receptive targets. The afternoon golfers, who'd been caught in the first day's downpour, would be lucky to finish the second round. With more rain and possible thundershowers coming Sunday, the championship seemed certain to end on Monday at the earliest, with a Tuesday finish not at all unlikely.

(Before dismissing the question of fairness - "rub of the green" is a golf expression, after all - it should be noted that of the twenty-three players at par or better after two rounds, only five were in the half of the draw that got the worst of the weather. Is that unfair? Yes, and so what? Golf is played outdoors, in changing conditions, on imperfect terrain. If you want uniformly fair conditions, take up bowling.)

There were no lightning storms on Saturday, however, and despite the rain the second round was completed and more than half the remaining field got started on their third. Barring some unlikely complications, the 2009 Open will not join these historically hyperextended sporting events:

-- The fourth game of the 1911 World Series between the New York Giants and the Philadelphia A's was delayed for seven days by rain. During the delay, there were rumors that irate Philadelphia fans had shot Fred Snodgrass, a Giants player who had spiked the A's star third baseman Frank "Home Run" Baker. They were untrue, but Snodgrass had been sent back to New York to protect him from the unfriendly crowds outside the team hotel.

--At the 1931 U.S. Open - the first since 1919 to be played without Bobby Jones - George Von Elm birdied the 72nd hole to tie Billy Burke in a era when the third and fourth rounds were played on Saturday and the playoff was 36 holes. On Sunday, Von Elm again birdied the last hole to pull even, necessitating yet another 36-hole day on Monday. Burke shot 71-77 to Von Elm's 76-73, at last winning the Open after 144 holes.

-- The 1962 World Series between the Giants and Yankees had two delays because of rain. The first, in New York, postponed the fifth game by a day, while the second, in San Francisco, pushed game six from Friday, October 12, to Monday the 15th. The delay gave everyone plenty of time to listen to Tony Bennett's recent recording about his newly heartless condition.

-- The sixth game of the 1975 World Series between the Boston Red Sox and Cincinnati Reds is often described as the greatest baseball game ever played, memorable for Fisk's post-midnight 12th-inning home run off the foul pole. Less remembered is the fact that the game was supposed to be played on a Saturday afternoon, then a Sunday, then Monday night, before finally taking the field that fateful Tuesday evening. Any baseball fan would consider the greatness of the game sufficient compensation for the wait, unless they happened to have had a ticket for Saturday and an unbreakable commitment on Tuesday night. (Like me.)

-- The 1987 U.S. Women's Open at Plainfield Country Club in Plainfield, NJ, saw its final round postponed by heavy rain; it was played on Monday, and when three players tied for the lead after 72 holes, the 18-hole playoff was held on Tuesday. Laura Davies defeated Ayako Okamoto and JoAnne Carner for her first U.S. victory. A similar fate was narrowly averted in 2006 at Newport (RI) Country Club, when the weather cleared enough for 36 holes of play on Sunday, followed by Annika Sorenstam's victory in a Monday playoff (her tenth and final major title).

-- If two teams were going to top the week-long delay that took place in the 1911 World Series, it was only fitting that it be the Giants and A's again, this time in California. The 1989 Series was interrupted at the start of game three in San Francisco by the Loma Prieta earthquake. The game was finally played ten days later, a matter of minor inconvenience in context, and of little importance unless you were an out-of-towner in the stadium when the quake hit, with no plans to return when the Series resumed. (Like me.)

-- The most supersized event of all had nothing to do with weather or seismic activity, but ill-considered rules. When Anatoly Karpov faced Garry Kasparov for the world chess championship in 1984, the winner would be the first to win six games. (A long-standing system called for 24 games, with a point for a win and one-half for a draw, the reigning champion retaining the title in event of a 12-12 tie. This was changed to prevent a player from taking an early lead and then playing for draws.) Karpov won four of the first nine games; Kasparov fought him to 17 consecutive draws, lost his fifth game, battled through four more draws, and finally broke through with a win in game 32. Fourteen more draws ensued, followed by two Kasparov wins. Karpov was on the ropes, but officials stepped in to declare an end to the contest due to what they described as the fatigued condition of the players. The match lasted five months and 48 games, and there was no winner.

One way or another, someone will win at Bethpage. Someday.