Why Are They Cheering?
So, I know exactly the moment when Cheetah Woods tees-off today: 1:42. I hope he pulls a Popple and hits it 375 yards, and hard to the left into the trees.
I hope his ball gets wedged between a rock and the tree trunk and he Renaldo's four chips to get back to the green.
I hope he Cliff's five or six putts and takes a 14 for the hole telling everyone, "I stopped counting after the third putt, just give me a fourteen."
But that isn't what is going to happen.
The crowd at the Master's will cheer him wildly. He'll tip his cap, tell us all how sorry he is, and how much he needed to get back on the course so he can feed his kids and solidify his relationship with his wonderful wife. Then he'll birdie the freaking hole as everyone goes wild.
Why would anyone cheer for him?
I get the 2nd chance deal, and the fact that we are quick to forgive any sportsman who shows even a hint of sorrow.
I understand that he really needs to golf because it's his job and he needs to feed his poor kids. He has the right to earn a living, after all, how can we expect his kids to live off the first billion he made?
I can comprehend that his sins were of the me-first variety, but as one of my buddies said, "You'd do the same thing if girls were lining up to throw themselves at you."
Well, first of all, do you honestly think that there haven't been hot women lined up all these years for a chance to hang with the Big Red Dog?
(All right, so I couldn't even pull that joke off).
Regardless, even if there isn't a harem for me, I'm sure I couldn't behave as he had, no matter how great I thought I was.
But cheer?
What are they cheering exactly?
His strength of character? Nope.
His amazing wit? Not at all.
His winning smile and lovely personality? Absolutely not.
His love of his fans? Before this he wouldn't even spit on your shoes.
His courage for standing up to his wife? Last I heard she was clubbing him with a 9 iron.
Ah well, I'll never understand the masses.
In a perfect world, at 1:43 Cheetah's ears would be ringing from the boos as he heads up the fairway asking anyone who will listen:
"Have you seen my ball?"
I hope his ball gets wedged between a rock and the tree trunk and he Renaldo's four chips to get back to the green.
I hope he Cliff's five or six putts and takes a 14 for the hole telling everyone, "I stopped counting after the third putt, just give me a fourteen."
But that isn't what is going to happen.
The crowd at the Master's will cheer him wildly. He'll tip his cap, tell us all how sorry he is, and how much he needed to get back on the course so he can feed his kids and solidify his relationship with his wonderful wife. Then he'll birdie the freaking hole as everyone goes wild.
Why would anyone cheer for him?
I get the 2nd chance deal, and the fact that we are quick to forgive any sportsman who shows even a hint of sorrow.
I understand that he really needs to golf because it's his job and he needs to feed his poor kids. He has the right to earn a living, after all, how can we expect his kids to live off the first billion he made?
I can comprehend that his sins were of the me-first variety, but as one of my buddies said, "You'd do the same thing if girls were lining up to throw themselves at you."
Well, first of all, do you honestly think that there haven't been hot women lined up all these years for a chance to hang with the Big Red Dog?
(All right, so I couldn't even pull that joke off).
Regardless, even if there isn't a harem for me, I'm sure I couldn't behave as he had, no matter how great I thought I was.
But cheer?
What are they cheering exactly?
His strength of character? Nope.
His amazing wit? Not at all.
His winning smile and lovely personality? Absolutely not.
His love of his fans? Before this he wouldn't even spit on your shoes.
His courage for standing up to his wife? Last I heard she was clubbing him with a 9 iron.
Ah well, I'll never understand the masses.
In a perfect world, at 1:43 Cheetah's ears would be ringing from the boos as he heads up the fairway asking anyone who will listen:
"Have you seen my ball?"
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