The Highlands Course at the Atlanta Athletic Club, site of the 83rd PGA Championship (Aug.16-19), has brought tough guy Eddie George not only to his knees, but to his 12-pack stomach, to his turf-burned elbows, to his rock quarry-hard chin. There he is, to the horror of AAC members gazing from the windows of the stately clubhouse, stretched facedown on the 18th green, his borrowed Ping My Day putter held in his shoebox-size hands like a cue stick. Make the slightly uphill five-footer and he breaks 144. Miss it and ... shame.

Five hours earlier, George was still a football god, the NFL's leader in rushing yards since 1997, a player so oblivious to pain he has started 80 straight games -- and an obvious choice for the Second ESPN The Mag Celebrity Mulligan Classic, which this year focuses on the PGA Championship.

So what if Eddie arrived 13 minutes before the early-afternoon tee time? Who cares if he used borrowed clubs? Big deal that he didn't hit a ball on the range, roll a putt on the practice green or have a clue about the Highlands Course layout. It's golf, right? Ray Lewis isn't hiding behind a ball washer, ready to drive his helmet through Eddie's spleen, is he? So how tough could it really be?

Yes, well, that was before Eddie and the fellas met the ghost of AAC original member Bobby Jones, before they got a whiff of course architect Rees Jones' redesign, before they met the ball-eating Bermuda rough that was already 30 inches deep and isn't due for a buzz cut until after this year's PGA champion is crowned. No wonder George needed a hug on the 18th.

This year's ESPN The Mag Celeb 4 contained a breathtaking array of golf talent: Dan Patrick. ESPN SportsCenter anchor and radio show host, man of a thousand haircuts, former college hoops player, pretty boy. A charter member of the group, Patrick took part in last year's pre-U.S. Open Celebrity Mulligan Classic at Pebble Beach, where he shot a highlight show-quality 82 and, even more incredibly, did it after claiming he played to a 12 handicap, which would have prompted an official inquiry at most clubs. This time Patrick showed up with a more believable 9, but made sure to mention he was tweaking his swing and, well, who knew what was going to happen out there. Whatever.

Kordell Stewart. Steelers QB and off-season Atlanta resident, fresh from a recent celebrity golf tourney in Lake Tahoe, where he shot an opening-round 104, followed by 95 and 90. "But I beat Charles," he says, referring to the Great Barkley, whose swing looks like a huge fast-twitch muscle gone nuts. Barkley played in last year's Foursome at Pebble, recorded an FM station number (100) yet somehow finished second in medalist honors to Patrick. Stewart, a supposed 15, takes his place.

Mike Mills. Bass player and keyboardist for R.E.M., but also a serious, longtime golf wonk from nearby Athens and the only member of the Celeb 4 to show up wearing pressed long pants, just like the pros. The man loves the game so much -- he's been to the last couple of Ryder Cups -- he doesn't seem to care that it's hotter than a Malaysian jungle.

Eddie George. Titans running back who's playing his fourth round of golf ... ever. That would be okay if this were a Nashville par-3 muni. But this is the ever-loving AAC, where the Highlands Course measures 7,213 yards from the tips and will play to par 70 for the PGA (thanks to only two par 5's) but 72 for our guys. At Highlands there are more trees than Georgia-Pacific can swing a chain saw at. Water comes into play on eight holes. And you need a tracking satellite to find your ball in the rough.

Gentlemen, play away.

George steps out of the Mag-supplied limo with no golf glove, no golf balls, no golf clubs -- and no golf swing. Perfect, since he replaces Utah coach Rick Majerus in the rotation. Majerus arrived at Pebble last year with no equipment or accessories and hacked his way to a charitable 122. This is George's challenge: come in at 121, or 49 over par.

Twenty years have passed since the AAC played host to a men's major championship. Atlanta's own Larry Nelson won the PGA's Wannamaker Trophy in 1981, and Jerry Pate won the U.S. Open at the Highlands in 1976. But even with two adult-table tournaments on its résumé, nobody has spent the intervening years comparing the place to Bobby Jones' pride and joy, Augusta National. So the members called in designer Rees Jones, who basically built a new course over the bones of the old one. There is new and altered everything: greens, bunkers, tee boxes, shot angles, hole lengths. Thrilled with the changes, The PGA of America decided to give the AAC another try.

Because George's tentative practice swings remind you of an old man hoeing his tomato garden, and because to play from the tips would mean a U.S. Open-like six-hour round, the Celeb 4 plays from the white tees. That means 888 fewer yards -- the equivalent of two grown-up par 4's -- than the pros will face in the PGA.

Patrick steps to the No.1 tee box wearing a smart-looking AAC-logo shirt, Greg Norman shorts and PGA Tour-style belt. Mucho stylish, mucho expensive. The airline supposedly "lost" Patrick's suitcase containing his clothes, but not his golf clubs. Strange how that worked out, isn't it? Anyway, that's why he went on the ESPN The Mag-sponsored shopping spree in the pro shop and now looks like a cover boy for Trust Fund Quarterly.

"Celebrity mulligan?" asks Patrick even before he hits, already looking for a freebie. As it turns out, he doesn't really need it on the dogleg-left par 4 that the Tour boys will play at 430 yards. Neither does R.E.M.'s Mills, who drops his drive down the middle. That leaves the two AFC Central rivals to do their thing -- and it isn't pretty. Stewart tops his tee shot. If there were a first-down chain around, he'd have second-and-4 to go.

"That made me feel real good to see you do that," says George. "That was just for your comfort zone, so you can relax," replies Stewart, who then sails his celebrity mulligan into the fairway.

George's turn. Four painful practice swings later, he lurches at the ball, sending it airborne but into the left rough. His second shot -- inexplicably, he doesn't call for a mulligan -- stays in the rough. His third nicks a tree branch and disappears in the deep lettuce. "The rough is starting to look like the Ravens D," says Patrick. There is some more flailing, followed by a long stay in the bunker, followed by two putts and a merciful gimme.

"Thank you," says George, who can't quite remember all his shots. We give him a Xavier, or X (score unknown). Patrick and Stewart walk off with 5's, while Mills makes double bogey.

The 471-yard No.2 plays as a par 5 for the celebrity hacks, a par 4 for the pros. Patrick bombs his drive, forcing us to check his ESPN bio later to make sure he didn't moonlight on the Buy.com Tour. Stewart also crushes his drive and George sends his tee shot about 250 yards down the middle. "I'll take it," he says matter-of-factly, as if it were something he'd done before. Mills pulls his drive into the trees, needs two hacks to find the fairway, yells something about turning his hands over and cards a 7. Stewart, the sandbagging "15" handicap, makes birdie, while Patrick records a ho-hum par. As for George, he enters a greenside bunker, where he spends more sand time than Lawrence of Arabia, and leaves the green with a snowman.

George proceeds to yellow-line his tee ball -- again! -- on No. 3, rated the toughest hole on the course (par 4, 469 yards for the pros). Patrick and Stewart do their usual fairway thing, and Mills cranks out a decent drive that rolls dead well short of George's 245-yard boomer.

"I can't believe Eddie outdrove me," Mills mutters. "You think my swing's ugly?" says George, whose biceps the USGA would definitely rule non-conforming. Mills can see the headlines ("Titan Rips Larynx from Rock Star's Throat") and says, nervously, "Uh, no, that's not what I meant."

In the foursome's finest showing of the day, George and Mills bogey the hole, while Patrick and Stewart add a pair of pars. ("If you're a 15," Patrick says to Stewart, "I'm Brett Favre.")

No. 4 is a nasty par 3-158 yards for the hacks, 204 for the pros -- with water to the left and behind the green. Nice-guy Mills does the Sopranos thing and sends his ball to swim with the fishes. Stewart pushes his shot right, while Patrick pures his 7-iron to the middle of the green.

"Think of it as a painting, nothing more," says Patrick, as George eyes the huge pond. "It's all an illusion." George splashes his 4-iron into the illusion. "The painting just came to life," says Patrick.

Not much happens during the next three holes. A marshal says we're playing too slow. (Duh.) George and Stewart discuss their upcoming training camps. The Steelers train in Arnold Palmer's hometown of Latrobe, Pa., while the Titans stay in Nashville. "I'm at my crib every night," says George, rubbing it in.

Later, while searching for one of George's Mag-supplied Titleists in the rough of postcard-pretty No. 8 (463-yard par 4), I ask him if he's ever tried talking Barry Sanders out of retirement, since they share the same agent. "Nah," he says. "Barry's made up his mind."

Good thing the members don't see the gang on No.9. When a course maintenance man appears with a football and starts running fly patterns across the tee box, Stewart zips one to the guy just as George is teeing off. Mills shotputs a pass on a down-and-out, and then Patrick heaves a missile 50 yards down the fairway, which is about 30 yards better than George's drive.

Returning to golf, Mills drops a 5-wood on the green in two and records his first par of the day to finish the front nine with a 56. Stewart makes the turn at 42. Patrick has a 38. George sneaks in under 70. Majerus looks safe.

As usual, George double-digits to open the back, while Patrick ho-hums another par. Patrick is getting chippy, too, telling George that he's working the ball down the rough like a two-minute drill. On the gorgeous 11th, Stewart nearly breaks a wrist -- that'd go over real well with Steelers management -- while trying to muscle a 7-iron out of the rough. Mills struggles to a 7 on the hole, and adds another hangman on the eventful No. 12, even with a celebrity mulligan.

Maybe it's coincidence, but some of R.E.M.'s songs have a certain golf feel to them, such as, "Can't Get There From Here," "Underneath the Bunker," "It's the End of the World as We Know It," "Bang and Blame," "Monty Got a Raw Deal," "Find the River" and George's personal fave, "Burning Hell."

No. 12 is also where George swings and misses on his tee shot. "Whiffffff," intones Patrick in an anchorly purr. Stewart recites a Bill Cowherism: "When you think you know, you don't know nothing. But when you don't know, then you know. Know what I mean?" (No.) Moments later, a squirrel darts into Stewart's cart and steals his Snickers bar. Slash takes after the bushy-tailed rodent, who flash-jukes Stewart's visor off before shinnying up a tree, Snickers in his jaws.

George is weakening. He got up at 5:30, worked out, caught a flight from Nashville to Atlanta, skipped lunch and is playing on a surgically repaired right big toe still somewhat stiff with scar tissue. He picks up his ball on 12 and repeats golf's one truism: "This is a humbling experience."

No. 15 is a monster 227-yard par 3 from the tips -- 241 with the pin back -- but "only" 174 yards for the celebrity hacks. Patrick nails a 7-iron. "Make sure you write 'a choked-down 7,'" he says. Sure, it was a choked-down 7, followed by a choked-up three-jack for bogey.

By the 16th, there's a roving gallery of 10 course workers. At the par-3 17th, the gallery's grown to almost 20. Patrick responds by knocking his 9-iron into the water and claiming a celebrity mulligan. This time he reaches with an 8-iron and makes "par." Poor George watches as his 4-iron skips three times across the water before taking a final dive. He doesn't bother with a mulligan.

The group finally staggers to No. 18, a 500-yard par 5 for these guys, a 490-yard killer par 4 for the PGA folks. Water comes into play on two shots -- or more, as the case may be. This was the site of Jerry Pate's freeze-frame 5-iron that won the 1976 Open. Stewart just misses a 10-foot birdie try and settles for par and a round of 83. Not bad for a guy who taught himself by watching Golf Academy on The Golf Channel. Patrick also makes par and finishes with an impressive 77. Mills records his sixth 7 of the afternoon to close at 104.

Now, George. Down on his stomach, he sizes up his putt-cue ball, corner pocket. Per best estimates, this means the difference between double par (144) and one under (143). The gallery is hushed. George pulls back his putter shaft, then glides it forward in a silky-smooth motion. The ball rolls toward the hole and then, at the last instant, veers right, burning the lip, but somehow staying out. George calmly picks up the Titleist and completes a long option pass into the nearby pond.

"Man," he says wearily, "I don't ever again want to feel like I felt today."

We feel your pain, Eddie. But look at it this way -- golf may be "flog" spelled backward, but it still beats trying to run on Ray Lewis.

This article appears in the August 20 issue of ESPN The Magazine.