Ben Crane ... Ryan Palmer ... karaoke ... matching white shirts ... Wham ... it really is as bad as it sounds. Here, "enjoy" the video all you want, via PGT.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Golfers To Be Attached To Microphones
The Golf Channel is trying to get more microphones on the golf course this season, an idea that has been approved by the PGA Tour and, like the LPGA Tour, will most likely be a weekly feature. A golfer with a mic on him, playing a competitive round of golf while we "listen in."
Why is this both a good and bad idea?
Well, it's always fun to listen in to what is going on. Some of my favorite moments from major championships is when a network can capture what the likes of Phil Mickelson and Bones are chatting about over an important shot, because it really brings the tournament to life.
What is the problem?
When players are miked, they don't say anything ... ever.
I remember a conversation with some LPGA girls before one of them is miked up, and a very famous LPGA player mentioned that when she had been microphoned previously, she had to give one of her playing partners a look multiple times because she was asking personal questions while the mike was live. They're never going to really say anything controversial, and like we see with NBA coaches and the like, most of the stuff they pull out is boring and prepared.
So, yes, I love the idea, and maybe once a year we will get a solid "Boom, Baby!" out of it, but for the most part, it will just be golfers talking about golf.
Getty Images
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Kid and the Hybrid
On Tuesday night, I did what I've done the past three nights ... dragged my set of golf clubs out the door around 8:00 PM on my way to the driving range that isn't a 6-iron away from my front door. Convenient, yes, but normally a busy destination, one hour before close is the time I've realized is perfect for my practice ... few people left except the uber-serious, with the lights still shining bright as the ball boy snaps up all the noodles from the patrons of the day.
I've been going because, for full disclosure, a lot has been on my mind lately. I've been just batting around a lot of things, and some other items have been clouding my thinking, and to me, a night at the range is as good as a month of therapy. It's soothing without the daytime traffic and sun shining down. It's harmonious with the flashes of airplanes flying over and the beauty of a golf ball skyrocketing into the sky past the reach of the ballpark lights. It's a chi I rarely feel. But it's still life, and no matter how far down your golf bag you push that BlackBerry, things still pass through the cluttered mind of a 20-something golfer (and yes, those two things are equally as confusing).
But as I was whacking my three-wood, thinking about my swing and life (and my swing ... and life), I noticed a kid no older than 12 and no lighter than myself at 27, walking past with one golf ball and one hybrid. He was heading for the end of the range to hit some shots out of what appeared to be a Dustin Johnson-like fairway bunker. He waddled out of sight, glasses tucked tightly on his puffy face, and stood over that one ball for what seemed like a round with Ben Crane. You could see the thoughts going through his head. He wasn't thinking about the economy or a job or bills or anything ... he was simply a kid thinking about what it would feel like to strike this damn ball with this damn hybrid right down the damn fairway on the final hole of the U.S. Open. He had thoughts that we all used to have when we were hopeful hackers hoping to somehow make it big. As he took a swing (and a swing that wouldn't have made a foldout in any Golf Digest that you and I would buy) he ripped the ball down the range, a good shot for any kid his age. He smiled and then piddled back towards the pro shop of the range. I tossed him a ball to hit himself, more because I enjoyed what he was doing way more than I was enjoying what I was doing. The kid, for a few instances, made me forget about everything except how much fun it can be to enjoy golf.
I hit a few of my remaining balls as he walked around the other two guys finishing up their buckets, hitting random balls he found that nobody else had wanted this Tuesday night. As I was walking over to my car, refreshed completely by my new little buddy, I noticed his last four swings ... duff, duff, duff ... and on the final ball, as he stood over it quite longer than he had the other three, I could see the wheels turning again. He was thinking about something with that ball that was far from a Scottsdale, Ariz. driving range. He took another backswing, as I hoped deep in my heart would produce a solid result as he finished his mini range session, and as the ball rocketed dead straight off the club, you could see another smile, this one bigger than the first.
The experts tell us to putt like a kid, but they hardly ever tell us to live like one. Sometimes, that advice is the best. We can take life as seriously as we want a lot of the time, but sometimes moments just wrap their arms around you and don't let go. I didn't know this kid, and I might never see him again, but we held a bond that non-golfers can't understand ... we have both hit the same shot before, a thousand times ... the one into the 18th at Augusta National, or the putt that drops for a Players Championship. We have both hit bunker shots like Jim Furyk produced last year at the Tour Championship, and putts like Graeme McDowell slammed on Tiger Woods in early December.
This kid, more than anything, let me take it all a little less serious. Kiddo, I thank you, and I hope one day, a decade or two from now, you can think back to times like these and remember, it'll be alright. And if not, there's always tomorrow's round.
I've been going because, for full disclosure, a lot has been on my mind lately. I've been just batting around a lot of things, and some other items have been clouding my thinking, and to me, a night at the range is as good as a month of therapy. It's soothing without the daytime traffic and sun shining down. It's harmonious with the flashes of airplanes flying over and the beauty of a golf ball skyrocketing into the sky past the reach of the ballpark lights. It's a chi I rarely feel. But it's still life, and no matter how far down your golf bag you push that BlackBerry, things still pass through the cluttered mind of a 20-something golfer (and yes, those two things are equally as confusing).
But as I was whacking my three-wood, thinking about my swing and life (and my swing ... and life), I noticed a kid no older than 12 and no lighter than myself at 27, walking past with one golf ball and one hybrid. He was heading for the end of the range to hit some shots out of what appeared to be a Dustin Johnson-like fairway bunker. He waddled out of sight, glasses tucked tightly on his puffy face, and stood over that one ball for what seemed like a round with Ben Crane. You could see the thoughts going through his head. He wasn't thinking about the economy or a job or bills or anything ... he was simply a kid thinking about what it would feel like to strike this damn ball with this damn hybrid right down the damn fairway on the final hole of the U.S. Open. He had thoughts that we all used to have when we were hopeful hackers hoping to somehow make it big. As he took a swing (and a swing that wouldn't have made a foldout in any Golf Digest that you and I would buy) he ripped the ball down the range, a good shot for any kid his age. He smiled and then piddled back towards the pro shop of the range. I tossed him a ball to hit himself, more because I enjoyed what he was doing way more than I was enjoying what I was doing. The kid, for a few instances, made me forget about everything except how much fun it can be to enjoy golf.
I hit a few of my remaining balls as he walked around the other two guys finishing up their buckets, hitting random balls he found that nobody else had wanted this Tuesday night. As I was walking over to my car, refreshed completely by my new little buddy, I noticed his last four swings ... duff, duff, duff ... and on the final ball, as he stood over it quite longer than he had the other three, I could see the wheels turning again. He was thinking about something with that ball that was far from a Scottsdale, Ariz. driving range. He took another backswing, as I hoped deep in my heart would produce a solid result as he finished his mini range session, and as the ball rocketed dead straight off the club, you could see another smile, this one bigger than the first.
The experts tell us to putt like a kid, but they hardly ever tell us to live like one. Sometimes, that advice is the best. We can take life as seriously as we want a lot of the time, but sometimes moments just wrap their arms around you and don't let go. I didn't know this kid, and I might never see him again, but we held a bond that non-golfers can't understand ... we have both hit the same shot before, a thousand times ... the one into the 18th at Augusta National, or the putt that drops for a Players Championship. We have both hit bunker shots like Jim Furyk produced last year at the Tour Championship, and putts like Graeme McDowell slammed on Tiger Woods in early December.
This kid, more than anything, let me take it all a little less serious. Kiddo, I thank you, and I hope one day, a decade or two from now, you can think back to times like these and remember, it'll be alright. And if not, there's always tomorrow's round.
Does Anyone Really Want to See An Old Man's Dong?
(Just wanted you to know, I realize Brett Favre is also old, so I'm using the phrase "old" in my headline as "above 50.")
As you probably now know, Deadspin.com, a place I used to post some golf stuff back in the day, has obtained (maybe, possibly, sorta) a picture of an ex-American Ryder Cup captain's, umm, penis. Yep, the website was sent an e-mail by someone letting them know that they had a picture of some old fogey's fornicator, and it brought up some questions.
A.J. Daulerio posed a few important questions, mainly towards the mainstream media - "Is a picture of a captain's penis as newsworthy as the Tiger Woods sex scandal?"
He then went into five more questions:
* Did anyone on this list openly criticize Tiger Woods for his extra-marital activities? (Hypocrisy!)
* Would this behavior contradict this individual's public persona? (Hypocrisy!)
* Does anyone on this list have an endorsement contract that would possibly be impacted by this behavior? (It's a business story!)
* Has this behavior had any impact on the person's golf game? (It's a sports story!)
* Would Jim Gray be happy to know this type of information? (It's a Jim Gray story!)
While all this is Deadspin-y when you initially look at it, Daulerio brings up some great points. It really is a story within a story, and that has little (no pun intended) to do with the said penis. All this really is about is the golf media, a group of older, white gentlemen that have spent most of their latter days rubbing shoulders with the potential candidates for ShrinkledPenisGate. Are they going to report on a rumor like this with the hope of jeopardizing their relationship?
It also plays into a whole other ethical battle that goes something like this; with the Tiger sex rumors, it was easy to report on them without all the information, because no journalis really had a relationship with Tiger Woods. Now, they could be spitting out (potential) lies about a man like Tom Kite or Corey Pavin who is A.) married (ruins their marriage) and B.) a "friend."
It's just interesting, and it is the one problem with the old media. They had to gain relationships with these people. It was their job. They became friends, and drank wine with them and wrote lengthy pieces about how great they were. But now, that isn't the case. None of these guys open up to journalists anymore because they, frankly, don't give a shit about any of us. They make too much money to care about good or bad stories. They are taught ad nauseum not to do or say anything stupid, even if Anthony Kim continues to try and push this line, and it just isn't the same as it used to be.
So, with all that said, a penis is going to come out, but it will be a lot bigger than just a photo.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Martin Kaymer and I Could Get Along
If there is one thing I hate, it's hole-in-one stories. This past month I was in my first ever ace group, when some JERK from TaylorMade knocked it in with a hybrid.
Most people that I've played with are somewhat surprised I've never had the good fortune of picking my ball out of a the hole after just one strike (Note: I play with tons of blind people), but I never made one. The legend is that Ben Hogan never made an ace, and that was always something I kept close to my heart, but now I can add another hero to my exclusive aceless group; Martin Kaymer.
Yep, the 25-year-old German who is one of the top players in the galaxy right now has never carded an uno. He said that's his goal this year, as it is most people's goal on ever par-3 they play, but yes, no ace for that guy.
Martin, I appreciate you coming forward and sharing this. It makes it easier on us all.
h/t Busbee
Also, the picture is when Kaymer caddied for his girlfriend in early December. See, we have something ELSE in common!!
Golf, We've Missed You
It seems like FOREVER ago that we got to see professional golfers competing in some sort of tournament-style event, but fret no more, because golf is back ... after a lengthy break from December 5.
Yep, exactly a month after Graeme McDowell took down Tiger Woods at the Chevron World Challenge, real, live PGA Tour stars will be forced to hit up Hawaii for the Hyundai Tournament of Champions.
Who will we be seeing on Thursday? A host of big names, including Bubba Watson, Ernie Els, Dustin Johnson and Anthony Kim. Who won't we be seeing? That list includes Mr. Woods, who wasn't able to cash in a win in '09, and who probably wouldn't have made the treck out to Kapalua anyway, and Phil Mickelson, who normally skips this tournament as well.
But, it's golf! And it's live! and it starts on Thursday! And it comes on after work if you live in the continental US! And you get to see guys hit 420-yard drives on the 18th hole! Woohoo!
More coverage all week. Swing back by.
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