Hardly a week goes by when some pro isn’t whining about his wretched lot and demanding to be traded from a team that doesn’t sufficiently suck up to his skills and whims. Last year Jay Cutler could no longer stomach the Denver Broncos and by continual harangues orchestrated his way to the Chicago Bears.

Whining about your misfortune seems almost a requirement in the NBA, where a decade ago we had the famous case of Latrell Sprewell trying to strangle coach P.J. Carlissimo of the Golden State Warriors. Sprewell was dealt to the New York Knicks and kept playing. The Warriors, in fact, seem to have more than their share of the tempermental. Chris Webber famously bullied his way off the team in the mid-90s, and this year Stephen Jackson wanted out and got it.

It’s the same in baseball and football, where top college players have turned up their noses at some NFL franchises even before the draft.

Could any of us get away with this kind of behavior in our workplaces or communities?

“Sorry, boss, I don’t want to work evenings.”

“Either I decide my own assignments or you’re going to have to put me in a better job at a better location.”

“I’m sorry, officer, but my husband is asleep and isn’t available to answer your questions about how at 2:30 in the morning he ran over the fire hydrant and crashed into the neighbors’ tree.”

This is the point at which I’d normally conclude by saying “Give me a break.” But I’m not eligible for such. I don’t make enough money.

The U.S. Golf Association is offering early sales on 2010 U.S. Open merchandise, including a number of caps trumpeting the tournament at fabled Pebble Beach Golf Links.

The major tournaments for 2009 are behind us, but it’s not too early to think about the great drama that awaits next year. For any golfer or golf fan, a visit to Pebble Beach is on the “must” list. I’ve been to the course a couple of times, stopping in the pro shop and ambling around the grounds on a few brief visits. I also attended the AT&T Pro Am there for the third round of the tournament  in 1997, and it was a memorable day.

Pebble’s ocean-side setting is even more dramatic in person than it is on those sweeping panoramas shown on television. If you can arrange a trip for the ‘10 Open running from June 14-20, book it. But even if you can’t make the tournament, a trip to Pebble on the spectacular Monterey Peninsula at any time is advised and encouraged.

If Ricky Barnes can hang on to win the U.S. Open, it’s a good bet his unusual golf cap will gain some sales. Even if he fades on Monday — assuming the weather holds up at Bethpage Black — he’ll have gained some fans, as will his Wilson Staff cap.

I strained while watching him on TV this afternoon to figure out what’s written on the right side of the cap. It’s rickyenergy.com, which takes you to a site for Verve, “The Official Energy Drink of Ricky Barnes.” (I’ve lived half a century without consuming reconstituted mangosteen juice, so I think I’ll pass on the Verve.)

I follow pro golf to some degree, and I have to admit that Barnes didn’t register until he vaulted into the Open lead a few days ago. I’ve been impressed with how at ease he is in media interviews. Bob Costas on TV and somebody for ESPN radio were both pressing Barnes about how he’s coping with the rain delays, the course conditions and the general pressure of the Open.  Barnes has good-naturedly shrugged off the questions and said he’s getting enough sleep and relaxing with family living near the course.

Monday finishes for major golf championships are rare. If it’s a close finish, you can be sure millions of man (and woman) hours of productivity will be lost on the job as the leaders approach the final holes.

Mother Nature isn’t being cooperative, but the U.S. Open Golf tournament is under way at the fabled Bethpage Black course. While conditions have been stormy out on Long Island, here in California they are sunny, ideal for snapping a shot of my U.S. Golf Association 2009 cap.

The annual event always stirs up memories of the one time I got to play on media day for the Open. It was in 1998 at the Olympic Club in San Francisco. That year, media day was a week or two ahead of the actual tournament, so the rough I faced wasn’t quite as high as what the pros would face.

I spent plenty of time in the rough and posted a terrible score. But I did have one great moment.

On the ninth hole, I faced an approach shot to the green from roughly 50 yards out. The green is at the base of a towering, ampitheater-like embankment, ideal for a gallery assembled to watch a major championship.

I pulled out my wedge, stepped up to the ball and took a whack. The ball popped onto the green and rolled right into the cup, giving me what likely was a par or maybe even a bogie. I don’t remember and don’t care. What I do remember was the imagined thrill of raising my club and waving thanks to a wildly cheering gallery.

The United States Golf Association has unveiled its official caps for the 2009 U.S. Open, which will be played at that great public golf course on Long Island, Bethpage Black. I’ll wait a while for mine, which will come when I renew my USGA membership next year.

The U.S. Amateur golf tournament will be played next week at Pinehurst Resort and Country Club. I am not entered.

Not that I wouldn’t play given the chance. It’s just that after roughly 40 years of golf, I am grudgingly coming to the realization that there will be no tour, no green jacket, no claret jug for me. The high point of my career may just have been that glorious Saturday two decades ago when, at a charity scramble, I won a thermometer as a door prize.

My love-hate relationship with golf began in about seventh grade, when my dad coaxed me onto the course. I caddied for six summers at Oakwood Club in my hometown of Cleveland Heights, Ohio. There, I am convinced, I picked up every bad golf habit known to man.

A couple of years back, my brother sent me the Oakwood cap above. Curiously, the cap is incorrectly inscribed as “Oakwood CC.” This is not the first mislabeled artifact I’ve encountered from the Heights. At a high school debate tournament, the Heights High shop class adorned the trophies they made with footballs. They thought NFL stood for National Football League instead of National Forensics League.

But back to golf. I posed my Oakwood cap this afternoon by the edge of a sand trap. I am drawn to sand traps naturally and effortlessly. I employ different adjectives to describe my efforts to get out.

Life would be all the poorer without golf. I salute all the amateurs entered in the Open.

Go ahead and tee off without me, gents. I’m still tinkering with my swing. Maybe one of these days I’ll join you.