I hate golf.

I hate playing it. Hate watching it on TV. Hate how long it takes. Hate how bad I am at it. Hate how much it costs. Hate that everyone in my industry is better at it than me.

Candidly, if you ever played with me you may come to believe that golf hates me even more. I swing like I am trying to kill a bee. My feet fly out of my spikes like a parachuter. My body swings into a corkscrew of tangled parts. I putt with my legs split at the precise angle to take a #2 on the green without getting any on my shoes. My tee shots are so erratic that I thought that “Dick Out” was slang for mulligan.

Speaking of terminology, allow me to qualify my use of the term “hate.” I don’t actually hate the game. It’s probably more accurate that I’m a hater. But I don’t think I am alone. Most people are haters of things they suck at.
But if I am a hater, then surely I must now be rightfully considered a liar. Because dial me back to late Sunday afternoon, and there I was glued to my 55” Panasonic. What had lured me to the tranquil sunset that coloured the heavenly Augusta National? In all honesty, it was a dash of Tiger…could he win again? A sprit of Fred…did he really shoot that low on Friday? A landing of a double eagle by Louis Oosthuizen…what exactly is that? A dose of Matt…how hard is Kuchar kicking himself today?
But it wasn’t long before I got wrapped up in Bubba, the self-taught emotional hero from Florida. The guy who now owns the Dukes of Hazzard car, The General Lee. The star who has one very non-celebrity-like head of hair. The man who just spent four years adopting a little boy.

The drama had me swept up. The storylines. The commentators obvious hope that Phil Mickelson would make a charge. The tension as a half dozen players jockeyed for the lead.

I had dinner alone in front of the TV. Not very appropriate for a family holiday like Easter.

I issued a four-word tweet about Bubba. The disingenuous type of tweet I usually harshly criticize.

I put away my iPad. Allow me to repeat: I put away my iPad.

What was I, a hater of this ancient game, doing? Does this mean I will start watching more golf? Maybe get out and play this summer…after not striking at all in 2011 (for the first time since 1988!). Perhaps even take a lesson?

All of those thoughts and more went through my mind. Because when you watch a perfect event…with a perfect storyline…and a perfectly fairytale-like finish…you realize that sometimes you can be a perfect liar.



One thought on “Perfect Lie

  1. Nice to see you coming around to the best four-letter word in sports … G O L F!!!

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