While I have been a homebrewer for more than 20 years, my first first beer fest was the Kohler event  a year ago. And it was an amazing eye-opener. Uplifting and deflating and ultimately, a marvelous experience.

It was uplifting to see and taste all the wonderful new brews the current generation of micro-brewers are designing and making. While I’d like to see more good old-fashioned quality pilsners, I applaud the marvelous concoctions I sampled. I may not be on board with the current obsession with Belgians and shandys (often too sweet for me) and turbo-charged imperial stouts (a little  too combustible). But there’s no denying these beers are made really well by really impressive people, and there’s no better place to check them out than the Festival of Beer.

It was deflating in the sense that I briefly had brewing envy. While my beers are adored by those who drink them, the Kohler micro-brews were so technical-color. No worries. I got over it quickly with the help of friends Tom Bedell and Tom Harack. We toasted and moved on.

Impressed by my Kohler experience, I went to a beer fest in Chicago’s Old Town, a benefit for St. Michael’s church if I remember correctly, and it was also pleasant–a fun atmosphere in which to check out some delightful beers.

That was a great afternoon. The Kohler fest can be a great weekend, particularly if combined with, say, some of the best golf courses in the world.

If you’re a golfer, you know what I mean. If you’re not a golfer, no worries. What makes  Kohler’s Festival of Beer–what a great name–is its thoughtfulness and its great setting. The beer-and-chocolate pairing is inspired. Building on that, this year’s schedule has many other food-and-beer connections, from dining to seminars with chefs. There’s also a pub crawl, a 5K beer run, a beer-and-golf event.

There’s also a home-brew competition. If the next generation wasn’t so darned good at brewing, I’d think about entering.

For more information click on: Kohler Festival of Beer, May 31 to June 2, Kohler, Wisconsin. (near Sheboygan).

There’s less than three weeks until NCAA basketball takes center stage, beginning with Selection Sunday on March 17.

That’s when people will start filling out their brackets, cranking up their trash-talking around the water cooler and sneaking peeks at the morning-till-night televised hoops extravaganza.

Which is great. The only thing greater, though, would be to hop on the college hoops bandwagon right now. It might help you fill out your bracket. It definitely will fill your sports plate with drama and joy and heartbreak, the thrills and spills of seeing 20 year olds make lifetime memories, good and bad.

The small conference tournaments are outstanding. To see the excitement of little guys  making the Big Dance—well, there’s nothing in the NBA or other pro sports to compare with that.

The Big East tournament at Madison Square Garden, always a classic, should be even more riveting this season because the league that took college hoops to the next level from a television standpoint is going away. In a sign of the times, it has been torn asunder by conference realignment.

In between the Big East and little guys will be many other tales of glory and peril. Can anyone bump perennial powers like Butler and Gonzaga in their conference tournaments? How will that affect bubble teams trying to sneak into the field of 68.

Here in the Midwest, the Big Ten finish promises to be a great one. Indiana and Michigan State sit atop the standings in a league that’s as tough as it’s been for a long time. But Michigan and Wisconsin are lurking, and three or four other teams are capable of playing spoiler down the stretch.

And the Big Ten tournament, which returns to the United Center in Chicago on March 14-17, should be one heavyweight fight after another.

And so, you can wait until the brackets come out on Selection Sunday if you’re a casual college hoops fan. But if you are captivated by the thrills of the NCAA tournament, just know that the prelude to the Big Dance is great stuff, too.

Still don’t know how the USGA turned a golf tournament into a night game for us Midwest writers and our East Coast friends.  Actually, I do. And I don’t like it. But if it’s good for television. . .

CONGRATS to Webb Simpson, who came from four shots back on Sunday. In becoming the 15^th straight non-repeating major winner, he joined an impressive group of players who proved their mettle on the biggest stage.

IT WAS A TOUGH DEAL FOR JIM FURYK. He’s a golfer I’ve always liked, because he’s sharp and a straight-up guy—and because, unlike the Bubbas and Tigers of the world, he plays golf in a way I can relate to more easily.

A couple of things that were painful for Furyk admirers:

One, he’s usually clutch, and he sure wasn’t on that back nine. When he recovered from a yanked drive on No. 12 by making a miracle par-saver putt, I thought he’d finish the job. But that angry flail after the second shot on No. 12 was a bad sign, and that drive on No. 16 was bad all around—bad decision, bad swing, bad timing.

You could tell how important it was by his candidness after the tournament was over. After criticizing the USGA for moving up the tee nearly 100 yards (from 670 to about 570) without really giving the players the opportunity to prepare for that before the tournament (I don’t know if that was the case),  he caught himself and mentioned that it was the same for every golfer.

Trying to draw a 3-wood, Furyk over-cooked it and ended up in the woods left. A pair of 2-irons would have gotten him to wedge distance, he also noted.

It’s kind of wrenching to hear a 40-something guy say he’ll get other chances to win majors. Because you know that’s an open question—so to speak. And even while Furyk was mentioning it, I was thinking, “But the stars will have to align for him to be in that kind of place with 63 holes to go in a major.’’

MY PERSONAL HIGHLIGHT; At a wonderful party at the home of Art Spander, the legendary golf writer/columnist from the Bay Area, a man said hello on the patio and asked if I was in town for the golf.

“Yes,’’ I said. “I’m from Chicago. Are you in from out of  town?’’

“No,’’ he said. “I live here. But I am involved with golf. My name’s Bob Jones.’’

Still not moving too quickly, I asked about his involvement. And  he said, “Golf course design. I’ve done some courses in Chicago. Like ThunderHawk.’’

Duh. Finally I figured out I was talking to Robert Trent Jones II, who was as delightful as his golf courses. (If you like his golf courses, which I do. Even if they don’t like me back.)

Mr. Jones told me an interesting story about his father inventing the island-green concept at a course in Chicago. He couldn’t remember the name of the course, but I hope to get around to locating it at some point.

“I stole it from Dad, and then Pete Dye did, after me,’’ Jones said.

TOUGH BUSINESS: I also had a chance to visit with Bruce Charlton, the president and chief design officer of Robert Trent Jones II design firm. Only eight new courses were built in the U.S. last year, he said, and the Jones firm felt fortunate to have built one of them.

Just back from the Festival of Beer at Kohler, combined with a few days of golf at the incomparable Kohler golf complex, which includes Whistling Straits, scene of multiple PGAs, and Blackwolf Run, where the U.S. Women’s Open will be contested on July 5-8.

The golf was more difficult than I remember. Not sure if that’s because my memory is playing tricks—or if the Festival of Beer asserted itself.

No worries. My cohorts—fellow A Position scribes Tom Harack and Tom Bedell—helped make it a journey of joy. Recalling the frustrations known by top-tier golfers Dustin (“That’s a sandtrap?’’) Johnson and Steve (“I’m really in the bunker.’’) Stricker made the moments of tough slogging go down easier. If those guys can have their troubles, who are we to complain?

From the American Club—which is everything a resort hotel should be—to a quartet of golf courses that can hold its own in competition with any resort complex in the nation—to a beer-sampling confab that was delightfully planned and executed—the Kohler destination, about an hour north of Milwaukee showed once again why it’s a premier destination.

And we didn’t even have time to think about the spa.

A few highlights:

BEST SHOT: On the third hole of the trip, Harack made a hole-in-one. It was an unseasonably chilly twilight round, but Harack, smoothing a middle iron into the cup at No. 3 on Meadow/Valleys, warmed up things.

BEST LINE: After a forced march of a round at Whistling Straits—definitely gonna blame that on the gala opening of the Festival of Beer—I thanked our caddie, Terry, for his patience. I actually drilled a ball so hard into one of those wicked Pete Dye vertical-board and turf configurations on the par-five 11^th that it stuck halfway up the barrier.

“Oh, no. You guys were great,’’ Terry said. “I had a guy last week who shot 182. He counted every stroke. And when I improved his lie one time, he gave me a dirty look.’’

Not sure if that was true, or if it was simply a smart caddie trying to smooth the pain of our efforts to keep the scores in the double digits. But it worked.

BEST BEER EVENT OF THE WEEKEND: It was a tie, among all of them. Chocolate & Beer Tasting, in which Kohler chocolatier Peter Clemens made special chocolates to match some micro-brews was divine. Then again, so was the Tapping Party, where specialty beers stretched endlessly. The Beer Lovers’ American Bounty Seafood Bounty, where a variety of beers could be matched with a buffet that lived up to its majestic name, was a remarkable feast.

At Eggs  & Kegs, the morning brunch, Wisconsinites proved that orange juice and coffee don’t have a monopoly on breakfast beverages. Cheers to Beers, which was sort of the Saturday night black-tie event of the Festival of Beer, featured a remarkable array of micro-brews middle-sized brews and big-brewery brews trying to masquerade as little guys. The setting of Cheers to Beers—the Kohler Design Center, where the Kohler Co. shows off its finest commodes and accessories—added to the festiveness.

BEST BEER: Are you kidding? Not gonna go here without an endorsement fee, or maybe even with one. As one brewery owner said, “That’s like asking which of your children you love the most.’’

FESTIVAL NOTES: As a long-time home brewer (I expect my popularity to soar when Prohibition returns), I was impressed by the amazing quality of the micro-brews at the Festival of Beer. It seems like every little Wisconsin town has micro-brewery turning out great stuff.

One thing that did surprise me, though, was the amazing number of Belgian-style beers and hoppy beers, especially IPAs. I like a Belgian now and then, but find them a bit sweet  for regular consumption. And while my own modest IPA is hoppy, it’s not hoppy on steroids. To me, an overly hoppy beer is like a woman using too much perfume. A little subtlety, please.

While there were some excellent porters and stouts, two styles I am leaning toward at the moment, I was surprised at the shortage of pilsners, one of my favorites. If beers were a baseball lineup, I’d consider the pilsner the No. 2 or No. 3 hitter. There’s no finer beer than a pilsner, which can be light or robust enough for any occasion.

Just because the mega-breweries have given pilsners a bad name doesn’t mean micro-breweries or fine beer lovers should shy away from them. Instead, there should be an emphasis on filling that void.

It’s not a right or wrong, of course. That’s the beauty of the Festival of Beer. It sparks lively, yeasty debates. This year’s event was the fourth hosted by the American Club and Kohler tourism officials.

I’ll be making plans to attend the fifth soon. Like the American Club and the Blackwolf Run/Whistling Straits golf courses, the Festival of Beer is destined for greatness.

When long putters first started gaining popularity 20 or more years ago, I thought they violated the spirit of the game. If Sam Snead wasn’t allowed to putt croquet-style in the ’60s, how could golfers be allowed to use long putters, which were a much greater departure?

At the time, I thought long putters slipped in while the keepers of the game were embroiled in their initial grooves squabble with the Ping irons makers.

That was a revolutionary time in golf equipment. Not only were perimeter-weighted fancy-grooved irons sweeping amateur golfers off their feet. Callaway’s Big Bertha began the era of over-sized drivers, triggering a virtual equipment arms race that continues today.

If irons and woods were going through shocking makeovers, it only made sense for it to happen with putters.

The difference to me, though, was that perimeter-weighted irons and Fred Flintstone drivers made it easier to swing. Long putters changed the way golfers swung. And that crossed a line.

Of course, that was easy for me to say. While gobbling up the new irons and woods—TaylorMade’s Bubble Shaft changed my life—I have always been supremely confident in my putting.

I change irons and drivers all the time, but still putt with a simple Bull’s Eye putter that’s identical to the one I bought as a young caddie nearly 50 years ago. Honestly, I’d still be using the exact same putter, except that my bag was stolen several years ago. Luckily, a sharp-eyed friend found another Bull’s Eye Old Standard at a rummage sale, and bought it for me for $5. The weight and precision of my old Bull’s Eye remains such a joy, I’m stunned new models are not readily available today.

In a sense, I have no dog in the long-putter hunt.

That said, I’ve always rooted for talented putters—from Billy Casper to Ben Crenshaw to Loren Roberts—while shedding few tears for expert ball-strikers who struggled on the green.

It’s one of golf’s equalizers, I’ve always felt—especially when I’ve found myself in a match where I was giving strokes to somebody who hit the ball 50 yards past me.

I always took pride in the fact that no one had won a major with a long putter. Then Keegan Bradley came along and changed that at the PGA in Atlanta last August. I happened to be covering that tournament. While initially disappointed that the long putter had ended its major drought, I quickly got over it. Because Bradley is a fine young man who plays wonderful golf. And because it was bound to happen sooner or later. It was time to get over it.

Now comes the USGA, and its British counterpart, the Royal & Ancient, saying it will examine whether it should be permissible to anchor a club against the body.

In general terms, I tend to agree: Long putters violate the spirit of the original rules of the game.

Saying he’s “not a fan’’ of anchored putters, Tiger Woods explained: “I believe it’s the art of controlling the body and club and swinging the pendulum motion. I believe that’s how it should be played. I’m a traditionalist when it comes to that.”

From a practical standpoint, though, it’s going to be difficult to tell golfers—pros and amateurs alike—who have been playing that way for years that what they’re doing is no longer allowed.

“It’s been legal for however many decades,’’ said Phil Mickelson, who briefly experimented with a belly putter last year. “To change that I think is really unfair to those that have been using it.’’

As much as I’d like to see everybody putt the way golfers putted for the first few centuries the game was played, I believe the purist stance is going to be difficult to enforce in this case.

It’s difficult to take away something that’s been allowed for a generation or more.

That’s especially true in a sport that has an ongoing fascination with dramatic equipment changes.

SANTA MARGHERITA, Italy — We took the morning train from Rome up the Mediterranean coast, arriving by noon in this quaint Italian Riviera resort.

I’ve always wanted to write a sentence like that. And it lived as good as it reads.

Although Portofino, just up the road from Santa Margherita, was a popular jet-set destination in its heyday, the Italian Riviera doesn’t have the same cachet today as Nice or Cannes in France. It’s smaller and less glamorous in the modern-day sense.

No problem.

The Italian Riviera is a delight that mixes swimming, ferry-boat hopping, lounging and hiking amid jaw-dropping seaside-village architecture with inviting small restaurants and cafes.

At the Santa Margherita train station, even though our destination was not far, we opted to hop into one of the overpriced taxis for the short trip to the stately Grand Hotel Miramare.

Grabbing a quick lunch on the terrace next to the Grand’s gorgeous saltwater swimming pool, we were immediately introduced to one of the social classes that have holidayed here for decades.

When we sat down, we exchanged pleasantries with a middle-age British couple, who traded witticisms about the nature of marriage worthy of an old-time movie.

“I still don’t know why your father didn’t leave that to us,’’ we later overheard the husband telling his wife.

After lunch, we found deck chairs overlooking the Mediterranean across the street at the hotel’s immense waterfront layout, which features loungers and a cafe overlooking a small beach and piers. The Mediterranean was perfect for swimming on this warm September day. And the view of the harbor, plus brightly colored structures woven into the hills that rise up from the sea, was exceptional.

The views from the rooms of the Grand, which was converted from Gatsby-esque mansion to luxury hotel more than a century ago, are equally marvelous.

The town of Santa Margherita is dotted with trattorias that overlook the harbor. Put some freshly caught mussels and clams over linguine with a well-crafted marinara sauce, add a glass of your favorite wine, and it’s easy to see why this resort area has been irresistible for generations.

In the next days, we traded the pampered, upper-crust resort experience for more contemporary tourist experiences. The ferry ride to Portofino was quick, and that was probably a good thing. It was jammed with day-trippers from a cruise ship, plus hikers taking a day off from the splendor of Cinque Terre, an hour away by train.

The ride to Portofino can be measured in minutes. But as the ferry approaches this secluded town, which has been valued for its protected harbor since the days of the Roman Empire, it’s like a trip back in time. Even the Portofino photos of a trench coat-clad Humphrey Bogart and Ava Gardner in a billowy dress ooze history.

It’s still a popular high-end resort, as evidenced by the abundance of chic and expensive jewelry and clothing boutiques. But it’s also a photographer’s delight.

As we pulled into Portofino on the glistening water, I looked up at the ageless buildings — with their weathered green shutters accenting all manner of orange, beige and cream-colored buildings — and said, “Where have I seen this before?’’

The answer is, in representations at any number of little Italian restaurants back home. But as the song goes, “There’s nothing like the real thing.’’

First, we worked up a hearty appetite strolling through the hilly town. I was curious to see what those buildings that rise straight up into the hillside look like from behind. The answer: Although they are four and five stories high, their rear entrances were on the third or fourth floors. So the residents of what looked like modest living quarters would go downstairs to get to their lower rooms.

Then we headed to the Excelsior Cafe for a little salad, pizza and a view of the busy little harbor. As with most Italian pizzerias, the feature here was a small, delicate thin-crust version adorned with all kinds of interesting options, from eggplant to prosciutto.

The next day, we hopped the train to Cinque Terre, a collection of five ancient and unspoiled towns that are carved into the steep, rocky coast along the Ligurian Sea, as this section of the Mediterranean is known.

Connected by hiking trails that have been designated as a national park, the Cinque Terre towns each have their own little flavor and are a delight to explore and photograph.

We had originally planned to stay in the Cinque Terre, but it’s an immensely popular tourist area in the fall — we were bucking the Anchovies and Olive Festival — and its small hotels and modest bed-and-breakfasts fill rapidly. The crowds, combined with the complaints we overheard about the lack of air conditioning, not to mention the steep walks in these nearly autoless villages, reassured us about staying in the lap of luxurious Santa Margherita.

That said, the Cinque Terre is not to be missed. From one end to the other, it can be hiked in as little as four or five hours, but there are also frequent ferries connecting the towns. With so much to see, we started with the easy walk from Riomaggiore to Manarola, also known as the Via dell’Amore because couples pledge their love by placing padlocks in the fencing, or any spot that will hold a lock.

After a stroll in Manarola, we upped the ante and wended our way along a path through the vertical vineyards above the village (thank you, Rick Steves). At lunch — another excellent round of clams and mussels over homemade pasta — we watched as a Manarola mariner lowered his small boat into the water by pulley from a cliff.

From there, we hopped the ferry to Vernazza, which was bustling compared to Manarola. In contrast to chic Santa Margherita, the Cinque Terre is immensely popular with no-frills hikers, including many Germans, who share my affection for beer, even in this land of vineyards.

We bumped into several couples from South Carolina who had rented a villa in nearby Tuscany. Trouble is, they liked Cinque Terre so much they ended up staying on the Ligurian coast for a good portion of their visit.

The beer was cold. The sea was warm. The sun was bright. The shutters were green.

When it comes to the Italian Riviera, what’s not to like?

Playing yesterday, though, we were surprised to see three foursomes ahead of our weekday 7:42 teetime. Worse still, I heard the scariest words in golf:

“I’m a 17, so you should all play off of my ball.”

And they were on the blue tees!

I will give them credit, though. They got it done in 4 hours and 20 minutes. It  added 45 minutes to our round, but I had feared it would be worse.

My advice to one and all: Play it forward. At least until you’re shooting 73 or lower. You play faster, score better and you get to use all kinds of fun clubs.

I believe he will win more majors, but not until he makes some major changes. Clearly, his swing is messy at the moment, the product of his injury-forced and yet another change in swing coaches. He told us that’s conquerable (see the links to my Chicago Sun-Times reports) with extensive practice and tournament conditition, and I accept that. Although I don’t know why anyone with Tiger’s ability and mechanics, etc., would be fiddling around so much with his swing.

More important than his swing, I think he needs to get his head on straight. There’s nothing like a clear mind to free up your golf swing, and his mind seems to be cluttered with all kinds of distractions. The scandalous behavior obviously has changed the world’s view of him forever, and that has to weigh on him heavily. Assuming he has the ego—and he certainly does—to work through all of that, it still takes time (to heal) and effort (to find a comfortable mindset). It’s doubtful that he’s done all that.

With that preamble, here are some links to my PGA coverage:
A recap of Woods’ bizarre breakup with caddie Steve Williams and a look at why we find Tiger so fascinating, through thick and thin. . .

(In case I get too swamped to post here, catch the rest of my PGA coverage at suntimes.com/sports )

http://www.suntimes.com/sports/golf/6994773-419/like-it-or-not-tiger-woods-remains-center-of-golf-universe.html
Why Tiger remains confident despite his two-day meltdown at this PGA Championship. . .

http://www.suntimes.com/sports/golf/7042988-419/story.html

On a more upllfiting note, a look at the way Steve Stricker and Jerry Kelly, a couple of pals from Madison, Wis., jumped out front in the first round. . .

http://www.suntimes.com/sports/golf/7017241-419/low-key-steve-stricker-ties-record-low-at-pga-championship.html

A look at Stricker’s former college teammate, Mike Small, who’s now the Illinois golf coach. The only club pro to make the field, Small maintains a nice perspective while balancing competitive golf with being a golf coach, which allows him to enjoy family life. He’s probably the only competitor who was on hand for Carlos Zambrano’s disappearing act when the Cubs played the Braves in Atlanta Saturday night.  . .

http://www.suntimes.com/sports/golf/7037564-419/illinois-golf-coach-mike-small-makes-weekend-cut-at-pga-championship.html

In other words, Tiger’s already a legend, whether he catches Jack or not, even if those misdeeds in his personal life make your skin crawl.

I wrestle with this because I’m at the PGA this week, and I was sitting there Wednesday morning when Woods made his appearance in the interview room. If Woods is disappointed in ex-caddie Steve Williams—and how could he not be?—the 14-time major winner did a good job of hiding it at the Atlanta Athletic Club, where the PGA championship will begin on Thursday.

In the glow of being on Adam Scott’s bag when he won in Akron Sunday, Williams referred to the victory as “the greatest week of my life.’’ In other words, even better than any number of magical Woods triumphs.

“I sent Stevie a nice text after completion of play,’’ Woods said sunnily, refusing to take the bait of an early question, “congratulating him on his win. It was good to see them go out there and play as well as they did.’’Whether Woods had heard Williams gushing—and dissing—at that point is not clear. Williams attempted to dial down the apparent putdown on Monday.

Did Woods and Williams discuss the uproar, either electronically or in an actual conversation, this week?

“ I think that’s between Stevie and myself,’’ Woods said.It’s a measure of how far Woods has fallen since that Thanksgiving, 2009, driveway accident and firestorm over his sex life that a few remarks from his caddie can cause such an uproar, but that’s the way it is.

Did Williams, who was known for staying out of the limelight when he worked for Woods, surprise Tiger by being so joyously outspoken after Scott’s win?

“Yeah,’’ Woods said.

Next question.

Was Williams being disloyal or was he simply being himself by speaking up after all those silent years?“I’m not going to speculate on Steve,’’ Woods said. “Those are obviously his feelings and his emotions and his decision to say what he wants to say.’’

Oh, and by the way, having played only twice since the Masters due to Achilles and knee injuries, what is Woods’ realistic goal this week?

“A W. Do you want me to elaborate? A nice W,’’ he said.That said, Woods said simply being healthy enough to practice and compete is a big step.“It would be nice [to win],’’ he said. “That’s the goal, to win every tournament I play in. That’s not going to change, but I think the first thing is I had to get healthy in order to get back to that level. I hadn’t been able to practice, hadn’t been able to work on my game. I’ve been sidelined for a long time. It all started with being healthy first, and now I can start playing again.’’

Woods, 35, has been stuck on 14 majors since he won the 2008 U.S. Open on one leg at Torrey Pines, in a playoff vs. Rocco Mediate. Despite all that has transpired off the course, and how little magic he has performed with a golf club since then, he continues to cast a giant shadow over the game.

“I don’t think it’s quite a new era yet until other guys start to win majors regularly like he did,’’ U.S. Open champion Rory McIlroy said. “It’s very hard to do that, anyway. But he’s only 35 years old. He’s got another good 10 years in him if he wants it.’’

Meanwhile, Woods remains so big, so fascinating, that even a few comments from his former caddie can become a major topic. I’m sorry to disappoint some of my golf-purist friends who want to judge Tiger solely on his golf game. I understand their point. The trouble is, news is news, and Tiger is interesting, win or lose.

See more stories by The A Position on the PGA Championship at: http://theaposition.com/Partner/pga-championship