Green Tee Readings

Since it’s pretty darn cold here in Chicagoland, and since I’m in the middle of the Sports TV Doldrums*, I want to ask just one thing of anyone producing televised golf this year: don’t, for love of delicious beer, show more than 30 seconds of Tiger Walking. I wish that you’d not show it at all, or limit yourselves to 30 seconds for the entire year, but I know that’s pretty much impossible. Y’all, for some reason that escapes me, like people’s enjoyment of “Umbrella” escapes me, seem to find nothing more fascinating than watching Tiger walk on the golf course.

Just.Stop.It. Please, try and limit yourselves to 30 seconds a day (2 whole minutes a tournament) of taping and airing Tiger’s strides down the fairway. I’m begging you. You do this for me and I’ll keep my thoughts about McCord to myself. Pinky swear.

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* The NFL’s done until September. The Cubs aren’t in a position to do anything really interesting until then either. Tennis is effectively over until the second round of the French, and probably more truthfully until Wimbledon. The Masters isn’t until April. If I were a heavy bar goer, the NCAA Tournament might hold some interest, but no. The NBA has marginal potential to be relevant in the conference finals and beyond, provided the Suns are still a running team and the Celtics are healthy.

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Today I played the first (half) round of golf for the year, it was also the first time I’ve played on a new course since my Freshmen year of high school. That happens when you take almost a decade off from playing. My dad, my stepbrother Miles and I played at Pottawatomie course in St. Charles, a 9-hole municipal course. At $16 per nine for non-residents, the rates are reasonable, and the course is in better shape than one might assume, given the 200 players the guy at the pro shop told us tee off on the average day. For his first time ever playing, Miles shot a quite respectable 73, a score that ought to go down significantly if he works at his short game. Chipping across the green a few times feels an order of magnitude more embarrassing than the Underwear-in-School dreams (with a special offer of a free side of anger if you order now. Operators are waiting to take your call).

My round below the fold…

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