Bill,
I tweeted (twat? tweets?) you that I think you missed the angle here. Instead of just being a sideline asshole flinging mud I guess I should elaborate a bit further:
I saw two men this past weekend at the Masters. One but barely a man, but seemingly wise beyond his years with the weight of the world on his shoulders for a few hours as the thing he has done since he was a young boy in Ireland regress to a time and a place not to his liking. He ground on.
I saw another man who arguably was given too much, too soon. Some have even mentioned it and written poignant pieces about it previously. I saw a man grinding but not like the boy. I saw, and even my wife mentioned, a man grinding on an edge likely to fall to either side or even fall off. My wife is a 2nd grade teacher see and even alluded to the fact he looked like one of her students who could likely blow up at any minute.
And so for a time he did blow up in his own way: he posted a 31 on the front of Augusta National. He had the crowds cheering and the announcers even speculating at a 62 final round score. The first time ever this would have been done at a major on the final day.
The boy made the turn and then pulled a drive into an area that the announcers had never seen anyone hit their ball before. It snowballed from there for the young lad from Ireland. He never contended after that. Neither did the older Tiger of course. Flaws in his game materialized and both were to be without the green jacket this time around.
But losing of course does happen in our lives. The old adage is so true: you can't win them all. And perhaps neither will win a golf tournament again or maybe they will both win 20 more... it really doesn't matter. It is a game with a small ball after all and what we are left with at the end is not scores or trophies or crowds cheering. All that goes away. What we are left with, at the end, is the smiles we put on other peoples faces.
The one continuing to grind on the edge each night of his life and blow up in reporters faces (yes he blew up like that too) is not who I plan to share with my kids except as a bit of a cautionary tale and perhaps to emphasize competitive nature. The one who I want my kids to see, listen to and smile with? The wise boy.
