Assuming we all agree that Curtis Strange and Nick Faldo were the central actors to the 1988 U.S. Open at The Country Club (they did, after all, go head-to-head in an 18-hole playoff on Monday) let’s move on to another query about that wonderful week 34 years ago.

Who were perhaps the next two important figures to that show?

Should you be stumped, may I put forth the names of Jim Kwitchoff and Chris Gildea? They were football players at Boston College who pretty much coordinated the championship, manned the locker room, and stayed an extra day to provide protection and swing advice for Strange and Faldo.

Don’t buy it? OK, you’re right. There’s quite a bit of embellishment in there.

Hey, but at a time when golf is embroiled in a messiness that does no good to the game and only sours its fan base, the story of Kwitchoff and Gildea provides much needed levity.

It’s been 34 years, which has provided enough time for Kwitchoff and Gildea to establish careers, get married, and raise families. But on the threshold of another U.S. Open at The Country Club, they embrace the opportunity to tell their stories and emphasize how unforgettable that week in ’88 was.

“I mean, I knew nothing about golf,” laughed Gildea, a defensive lineman from Framingham who was about 6-foot-3, 285 pounds. “When we were (on the work crews) it was like ‘Caddyshack.’ We were just a bunch of big, shirtless gorillas.”

Some of the mementos Jim Kwitchoff has of the '88 U.S. Open -- his hat autographed by the champion, Curtis Strange; his credentials; and a marshal's "quiet" sign.

The hook that got Gildea involved in the 1988 U.S. Open was his teammate, Kwitchoff, a 6-foot-5, 275-pound offensive tackle from Amherst, N.Y. Tired of those part-time jobs that used to draw football players like magnets – bouncing, bartending – Kwitchoff saw that The Country Club was looking for banquet help after the Eagles’ ’87 season ended.

“They figured I could carry a tray as well as anyone,” he said.

As winter morphed into spring, Kwitchoff was approached by an official at TCC who asked he’d like to stay on and work because the club had to get the place ready for the U.S. Open. That’s right, it was about a three-month process to “build the stage.”

Different time, eh?

Anyway, “I said to myself, ‘I can’t be carrying trays when the Open starts,’ ” laughed Kwitchoff. “I needed to be near the action.”

Wish granted, Kwitchoff was asked to round up some laborers who could help build a small city in a short time. The call went out to Gildea and a half-dozen of their BC teammates.

“I got a whole bunch of knuckleheads and told them, ‘Get ready, we’re going to have a good time.’ ”

The man was true to his word.

“He had us there at 6 a.m., all day, seven days a week,” said Gildea. “Then we were at Mary Ann’s in Cleveland Circle at night. I never knew how much fun work could be.”

For sure, there were snafus. Like misinterpreting where they could dig, which led to a broken pipe that created a river of water that caused havoc. “We were like Caddyshack times 10,” said Gildea.

Grueling as the work was, Kwitchoff and Gildea said served a dual purpose – they were getting paid and they were getting their weight-training regimen at the same time. It was 1988 and both Kwitchoff and Gildea would be in helmets and pads for coach Jack Bicknell, who just a few years earlier had led Doug Flutie and the Eagles to a 10-2 mark and a victory over Houston in the Cotton Bowl.

They are days that both Kwitchoff, who lives in Buffalo, and Gildea, a schoolteacher in Westborough, cherish. But there was something special about mixing in their contributions to get The Country Club ready for that ’88 U.S. Open.

Unlike Gildea, Kwitchoff was “a huge golf fan,” so as the championship drew closer and he was assigned supervisory duties in the locker room, the good fortune followed.

“I’m meeting all the reps and they’re asking me if I wanted balls, hats, or gloves. I’m stockpiling it all,” he laughed. “After the cut was made, guys couldn’t wait to get out of town. It was my job to clean out lockers and the stuff they left behind, even shoes and hats.

“I think I had 100 dozen golf balls. Of course, the shame is, I couldn’t hit them (well). But I had Christmas gifts for the next year.”

What remains the exclamation point to the story, however, are the words spoken Sunday night, after Strange saved par at the 72nd hole to tie Faldo at 6-under 278. “We need bodyguards,” an official told Kwitchoff. “Get another big guy.”

Of course, “I called Gilly,” said Kwitchoff, “and told him he was the other bodyguard. But I said, ‘I get the American, you get the Brit.’ ”

Remember, Gildea knew nothing about golf, so he figured it was one athlete talking to another when he walked off the first tee and told Faldo, “Hey, Nick pretty good shot.” Shock of shocks, Faldo stared at him, then the caddie moved in and reprimanded Gildea.

“He told me, ‘You don’t do that.’ But I didn’t have a clue.”

Overall, the day went delightfully, laughed Gildea. “(Faldo) said, ‘Thank you’ on the first tee and ‘thank you’ on the last hole. So, what’s that, four words?”

As for Kwitchoff’s assignment, “Curtis was incredibly nice. He came up to me on the first tee and said, ‘Just to let you know, I totally don’t have a problem with you grabbing my arm to get me to the next tee.’ ”

At the 18th green and leading by three, Strange had one last request for his bodyguard: “When I make this putt, just get me to the tent. I need to sign this card.”

Flawlessly, Kwitchoff handled that one last task. A look at the record book would confirm it.