There is no inertia quite like the one born out of laziness. I thought I'd take a brief hiatus in May, but I've seen "Back To School" advertisements for weeks and the calendar doesn't lie.
Meanwhile, it was an odd and eventful day for Jim Furyk. His alarm failed to go off and he ended up missing his tee time and being disqualified from the first round of the FedEx Cup playoffs. I've been there myself, driving like mad, sweating profusely, cursing my carelessness. It's no fun.
In Jim's case it's even worse. He'll have to answer questions about it for weeks and, if he comes in second, have to wonder why he didn't have a back-up plan for a dead cell phone battery.
Tiger will have another go at it, albeit as a single guy. I can't imagine what it sounds like in his head as he stares down a 20-footer for par. I dislike piling on, but watching him over the summer has at least confirmed for us married guys that there are benefits to refraining from chasing skirts not attached to a spouse's ass.
The dawn patrol is still out there twice a week. Richard, Dennis, Tom and I are still walking Rancho, vying for the various rewards of competition. Someone asked if we play for money so I thought I'd let an excerpt from the book explain:
Tom and I have a match every time we play. This started during the last NHL strike, so we called our match the “Stanley.” The loser had to answer to Sally. Soon thereafter, uncomfortable with the misogynistic tone, we switched and made the winner Sally. The winner is now said to be “wearing the dress” and, like the Ryder Cup, he who possesses said garment need only halve the match to retain it.
There's more to it than that, in that each golfer of five (counting Jim Dewitt) has a separate match and garment but I'll leave that for another time. I hope your summer's gone swimmingly and your swimming's been swell.
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