Posts Tagged ‘Tiger Woods’

Say Goodnight To The Good Guy

// July 21st, 2011 // 6 Comments » // Uncategorized

tiger-woods-weeds-us-open-golf_t620Could irony be defined as someone blowing up his life, his public image, and his golf game because he was habitually cheating on his wife, and then firing his barrel chested buffer and closest friend because the friend was cheating on him?

It was announced yesterday that Tiger Woods had fired long time caddy Steve Williams. The announcement was merely a formality as Woods had actually told Williams of the decision a few weeks ago, but the two decided to wait until after the British Open. Williams, out of work while his employer is on the mend, requested that he be allowed to carry Adam Scott’s bag during The Open Championship. Woods and his camp denied the request. The stout New Zealander did it anyway.

You think Tiger Woods asked Elin Nordgren’s permission before he went out and tried every possible combination dish at the local Applebees?

Probably not, but the denial was implied by the wedding ring on her finger.

Both men wanted to go their own way. Woods had to know that eventually his actions were going to cost him his marriage, but Williams didn’t expect that after all he had done to protect Tiger over the years that his infidelity would cost him his job.

He seemed genuinely hurt by the dismissal.

Tiger Woods has watched as everyone has jumped off his ship; his wife, his sponsors, golf fans, and now his health. Maybe he figured that he would beat Williams to the punch, and firing him was his Groucho Marx moment.

Ten years ago, Tiger would have been overwhelmed with men clawing their way over one another like it was Black Friday at Wal-Mart and he was a flat screen, for a chance to carry his bag. In those ten years that bag has become heavy, and no one, aside from a good friend, is likely to jump at the chance to loop that extra weight on their shoulders.

Instead of going through a very public search for a new caddy, which is going to result in him trying to lure someone away from another golfer, and more damage to his reputation, I have a solution for Tiger Woods.

pimp

Hire a local pimp.

You need constant female attention, and getting married again is going to be a bit tricky given your, how to put this politely…history. A pimp would be able to satisfy that, and it would draw a huge portion of the media spot light just far enough off of Woods that he could start focusing on playing golf again. Can’t you just see the headlines now?

Tiger’s Pimp cuts Rory McIlroy in line for the buffet

Phil Mickelson shaken down by Tiger’s Pimp.

Tiger’s Pimp helps him put the ball in the hole again.

Tiger longer than ever with help from his Pimp.

It would be the kind of polarizing media circus that he needs in order to step all the way over to the dark side. The dark side can give a man dangerous powers, but there are always consequences. For Tiger, what’s left to lose? Sell your soul, become a bad guy, and get back to chasing down the Golden Bear. Think about how much fun it was to root against (he who shall not be named on this page) and the Miami Heat?

Now imagine the joy it would give you to see Tiger Woods and his Pimp compete, then fall just short to Mickelson, McIlroy, or someone like Darren Clarke!

Everyone loves Will Smith, or at least lots of people love to pay money to see his movies. In I am Legend, Smith could have saved a bad movie by turning into Jack Nicholson from the shining. If he had embraced being a detestable lunatic, totally justified given his character’s plight, it would have completely turned the movie around. Instead he Fresh Princed his way through, like he always does, and never risked being perceived in a negative light.

Today, Woods’ career is turning into a crappy movie, and it’s time for him to embrace the dark side.

He has spent so much time pretending to be someone he is not. Now that there is no one left in his corner, he can finally say goodnight to the good guy, and say hello to the bad guy.

——Corey

Weekend Recap: The Vacation Edition

// July 7th, 2011 // 2 Comments » // Uncategorized

The NBA and NFL are currently on vacation. I’m extremely petty and don’t like anyone to do anything that I’m not, so I headed to Cape Cod for the 4th of July.

While most of you had to be back to work on Tuesday or Wednesday, I finagled almost a week off. Before you close the window and start wishing harm upon my vital organs, I have to work Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday to make up for it. But in the spirit of embracing a few extra days of sun, golf, and free dinner at my parent’s house, I present a Vacation Edition of the Weekend Recap.

Yea, I know its Thursday morning, but they don’t have Internet access on the golf course, or at the beach. So, much like ugly people who have to develop winning personalities, I’m trying to work with what I got.

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Novak Djokovic brought out the powder to bitch slap Raphael Nadal on Sunday on the way to his first Wimbledon title. Much like those crabby Frenchmen, the old guard at Wimbledon show the Men’s final at an ungodly hour on Sunday morning, so I didn’t watch.

I did watch the Nadal/Murray match and realized two things. When he is at his best, I don’t know if there’s a human alive who can hang with Nadal. The guy is a mutant. I know people will argue that Federer is the better player, and fine maybe he is Tennis’ Michael Jordan. But Nadal is capable of having his own version of the “shoulder shrug” game, where even he is in awe of how good he is. During the Murray match he hit a shot, realized how ridiculous it was, and apologized for it. No matter who you’re rooting for, or if you even care about tennis, watching someone so good that it baffles them, and compels them to apologize for it, is a lot of fun.

The other thing I learned is that Andy Murray is perhaps the biggest mental midget in all of sports. I felt a little bad for him while John McEnroe was attacking his manhood during the match, but by the end I had tired of his routine. He bricked easy shots, pretended to be hurt three hundred and six times, and seemed to waste more energy scowling at his trainer than he did trying to win the match. Murray has serious talent. Too bad he has the emotional stability of a two year old.

Congrats to Djokovic. He seems like a solid guy, is one hell of a dancer, and finally stepped up his game to join Federer and Nadal at the top of the mountain. There is nothing better than three guys at the top of their games, trying to beat each other. It’s what made the NBA so great in 2011. There were a handful of really good teams who all had a grudge to settle.

After his meltdown, I guess that makes Andy Murray the Lakers?

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tigerwoodsThe news came out today that Tiger Woods will skip from The British Open.

I for one am not surprised.

There are no Hooters, Applebee’s, or T.G.I. Fridays in Sandwich, England, which means there aren’t going to be any cocktail waitresses who are rich in boobs and poor in self esteem.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken a shot at Eldrick, but it seems clear that the man needs a never ending stream of tail in order to get his mojo back.

Come on Tiger. Start banging broads again. Everyone, including all of your peers, is ready to love Rory McIlroy. We may have to hate you for it in public, but inside, in places we won’t talk about at dinner parties, we will love to have you out on that course, pumping your fist again.

We need you out there, and don’t worry, we can handle the truth.

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kobayashi_195Joey Chestnutt won the annual 4th of July Hot Dog Eating Contest at Nathan’s by noshing on a disgustingly impressive 62 hot dogs.

The real story of the contest, for me any way, was Chestnutt’s chief rival Takeru Kobayashi. You may remember Kobayashi as Kaiser Soze’s lawyer, but to me he was competitive eating’s first star. It appears that unlike me, Major League Eating has a short memory.

The governing body that controls Nathan’s contest is beefing with Kobayashi over a contract, and he tried to compete in the competition from a satellite location. Kobayashi claims he ate 69 hot dogs in the same ten minute span. The number doesn’t count because it wasn’t part of the official competition.

I’m starting a petition to host a showdown between Kobayashi and Chestnutt in Manhattan. The Fat White Guy Network would sponsor the event, and we would see once and for all, who can cram the most wieners down their throat.

Before I’m inundated with applications from the morally ambiguous, this will be a closed competition. A mano y mano competiton, because we need…no…we deserve to know who the best is.

——-Corey

Weekend Recap: The Rory McIlroy Edition

// June 20th, 2011 // 2 Comments » // Uncategorized

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Growing up I played in something called the Cape Cod Junior Golf Association. It gave young kids a chance to play on dozens of local courses, and get a taste for competitive golf.

Every Saturday your parents would drop you off at the pro shop. Then, armed with some hand me down clubs, and brand new Titleists that we snagged from our dad’s bags, we would be on our own. Most would seek out friends, while others set out for the practice green to work on their short games.

I don’t remember a single round of golf from my days in the CCJGA, but I remember that feeling of independence. I remember how exciting it was to be out there on the course, acting like our dads, or our favorite golfers, carrying our own bags and responsible for our own scorecards.

I also remember how much I hated the two kids who always won.

I can still recall their names, the mere mention of which causes me to mutter angrily under my breath. There was nothing wrong with Mike Flynn or Kenny Lewis. Actually I didn’t really know either one of them, so it would be more accurate to say that I had no real reason to dislike them other than the fact that they were at the top of every leader board, every Saturday.

It got to a point where everyone was gunning for third and fourth place, as if first and second were like our parents liquor cabinet, and they were never out to dinner long enough to sneak in and do any real damage. The absence of Mike or Kenny at the practice green sent a wave of excitement through the rest of us. When a mini-van would pull up just before their tee time, everyone would fall back into just here to have fun since there’s no shot we are winning mode.

The most important lesson that I learned from the CCJGA was that no one likes someone who is constantly kicking their ass. Especially in a sport like golf, where you are out there by yourself, and where a centimeter can mean the difference between greatness and a club tossing madness. It is one of the only sports where you can do your absolute best, play a flawless round, and still get beat.

I can’t imagine all of us sitting around before the tournament was even over, and saying how happy we were for the guy who was beating the shit out of us.

So how were a group of professionals, who compete for huge chunks of cash, instead of the prestige that comes with having your name in the sports section of the Cape Cod Times, gushing over Rory McIlroy as he lapped the field?

I think the answer has a lot to do with McIlroy, but I will get to that in a minute. The reason most of these men, and everyone in the media, are fawning all over him like a fourteen year old at a Justin Beiber concert is because he is not Tiger Woods.

Tiger came in and destroyed the competition, and we loved him for it. We loved watching greatness, and imaging the limitless potential of a 21 year old who had no visible chinks in his Nike armour. But even from the beginning, Tiger was a robot.

sw205No one came out and embraced Tiger, and the man whose records he was chasing, Jack Nicklaus, seemed especially put off by Tiger’s demeanor. Let’s face it, no one wants to hug a robot, except maybe Vicki from Small Wonder, but that’s neither here nor there.

No one who was getting beaten by ten strokes every called Tiger “a great guy”, as we heard time and time again about McIlroy this weekend. The field would have been just as awed by the display of talent, but if it had been Tiger, the sound bites would have been about ignoring the scoreboard, and the man atop it, in order to go out and play some good golf.

Before the third round started, the men behind McIlroy were already handing him the trophy. More than that, they seemed to all want to be the guy who gave it to him. Maybe it was more about what he didn’t do, than what he did do, but when Tiger came out he turned people on the PGA tour against him.

Rory McIlroy turned them into a bunch of pre-pubescent girls with a crush, all hoping he would hear their words and maybe even look at them once or twice.

tiger-woods1

After The Masters I applauded McIlroy for the way he handled his collapse on Sunday. The guy hit a shot that went so awry that no one, in the history of The Masters, had ever hit a ball there before. He shot an 80, a score that even a hacker like me could manage on a really good day. But when it was all said and done he walked off the course with his head held high. Had it been Tiger no one would have dared to ask a question.

Rory McIlroy has some serious game. He also seems to have a steeled resolve that is rarely found in a twenty two year old, the short memory that you need to be great, and an affable personality that even Jack Nicklaus is enamored with. Nicklaus offered McIlroy advice this weekend and it has been reported that the two have become fast friends.

There is an age old question; whether it is better to be feared, or loved.

Tiger was great, and may still be again someday, but he was feared.

Rory McIlroy grabbed great by the balls at Congressional, and based on what we saw this weekend, it’s a lot better to be loved.

——Corey

Searching for Hogan-esque Heroes on Sunday

// April 7th, 2011 // 6 Comments » // Uncategorized

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Watching “Yes Sir: Jack Nicklaus and the ’86 Masters” narrated by his son Jackie, got me thinking about my own dad, who recently retired.

After working as a dentist for over 30 years, he hung up his drill and has attempted to settle into a life of leisure. Not an easy task for someone like my dad, who has been doing something for as long as he can remember.  Now all of it sudden it’s not part of his life anymore.

The end of a professional career, much like the end of a brilliant sports career, is usually not as simple as an ensuring you have an adequate retirement fund. Though it may take my dad a little while, I have no doubt he will enjoy his retirement once this never-ending winter relents and he can get back on the golf course. Those who do seem to accept the twilight of their athletic endeavors are often crippled by withdrawal, causing them to scratch away at their good sense until it lures them back onto the field, or court.

We judge these decisions because, like our parents, our heroes are held to a different standard.

In 2011 these lofty standards seem grossly naïve.

In the late 40’s and 50’s there were true American heroes throughout the sports world. They were men among men. They married their high school sweethearts and drank canned beer. They sacrificed years from their primes to defend their country. They were not forced into service, they just could not get away from that voice inside them that propelled them to pick us all up and throw us over their shoulders. When they lost they were not spraying blame around to anyone who would listen. They owned up to their mistakes.

For better or worse, their influence can be seen in the generation of boys who grew up watching them.

My dad’s favorite golfer when he was a kid was Ben Hogan.

In 1949 while driving down a country road in Van Horn Texas, Hogan, one of the best golfers in the world at the time, found himself face to face with an out of control Greyhound bus. The bus had swerved to pass a slow moving truck and was now bearing down on Ben Hogan and his wife Valerie. In an instant, and without hesitation, Hogan threw his body across the front seat of the car to protect his wife from the impending impact. In showing a complete lack of regard for his own life Hogan may have in fact saved it. Had his mind not instantly shifted into that ‘carry the world on my back’ mentality, he would have been crushed as the accident pushed the engine through the front of the car and into the driver’s seat.

As a result of his actions, his wife suffered only minor scratches. Though he had escaped with his life, Hogan had broken his collarbone and an ankle, crushed a rib, and endured a double fracture of the pelvis. As Hogan sat in a hospital in El Paso recovering from his injuries, he developed a blood clot that forced doctors to tie off the principal veins in his legs to stop the clot from reaching his heart.

Medical experts felt that the injuries would prevent Hogan from ever wasting a good walk again.

Sixteen months after the accident, and still showing a visible limp, Hogan won the 1950 US Open at Merion. In a remarkable display determination he hung around all weekend before sticking a one iron to force a playoff with Lloyd Mangum and George Fazio. Then the next day a physically exhausted Hogan shot a 69 to capture the title. The nation united behind Hogan, hoisting him on its collective shoulders and honoring him with a ticker tape parade down Broadway. The circumstances that led to Hogan’s injuries, and his subsequent triumph, created a hero that transcended sports.

After learning more about the man who had struck his last important shot before I was walking, I see how he impacted the young boy who grew up to be my dad. Hogan exemplified hard work. He practiced day and night to perfect his game. He was a hero that wanted none of the credit or fanfare that came with the role. I see many of these qualities in my dad, who values a good day’s work above all else.

Watching a “washed up” Nicklaus defy the odds and give people something to truly cheer about, as Hogan had, I began to wonder how our modern day heroes would stack up in my father’s eyes.

I remember watching Tiger Woods limp through the US Open in 2008 on a broken left tibia and with no cartilage in his left knee. That’s the leg that bears the force of his violent swing. Even for someone who didn’t like Woods, it was a pretty gutsy performance. Afterward, I wanted to run up to my father, boasting about Woods like a little kid showing off his report card. For some reason I didn’t.

Now, three years later, as Tiger has gone from a robotic prodigy stalking the record books, to a cautionary tale so over the top, he is more of a punch line than golfer, I think I know why.

My generation has been affected by our favorite athletes the same way that Hogan influenced my dad. The difference is, what we have been left with is doubts. We have 24-7 access to every aspect of professional athletes lives. The good, the bad, and the horrifyingly ugly. No one can live up to the sterling examples of men like Ben Hogan because we don’t want them to.

That kind of hard working, selfless mentality doesn’t sell.

As a result, my dad is likely to get more joy from watching “Yes Sir”, than from all four rounds of the Masters this weekend. As he tries to settle into his retirement, I wish my generation had something better to offer him on a Sunday afternoon.

——Corey

The Rook Presents: Tiger Woods’ Too Good To Be True

// May 12th, 2010 // 3 Comments » // Uncategorized

Sometimes I think “wow, it just can’t get any better than this”…and somehow, it just does.

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Fruedian slip from a Golf Channel reporter, Win McMurray, on the latest Tiger Tales takes the cake.  Calling “his ‘bulging disk’ a ‘bulging d–k,’” regarding his withdrawal from the final round of Player’s Championship.  Poor lil Bombshell McMurray.  She really was just another pretty face.

“[Woods] says he’s been playing with a bad neck for about a month and thinks it could be a bulging d–k,” the broadcaster said Sunday in a voice-over before immediately correcting her faux pas.” - FOXNews.com

Bulging indeed.  Now that Tiger knows she’s easy and sportscasters know she’s soft, she’ll just have to pull it together and face the music.  She just wants to know what the rest of America is wondering…holla, sista!  But there are plenty of other, tactful ways to get the goods.  Next time, might I suggest:

  • Tiger, on your tours/engagements…do you prefer to start out on top or come from behind?
  • Your ideal leisure time: spent at the Grand Tetons or Devils Butte?
  • Regarding Nike’s tagline “Just Do It” - lifestyle or verbal command?

Win, Win, Win - we can’t blame you for being honest, but we can blame you for being stupid.  Chalk it up to a dumb white chick; there’s nothing like a good pull-out…I mean…withdrawal to get Tiger back in the spotlight.