Tiger Woods! Yeah, there was some pretty decent basketball this weekend. Yeah, UMBC became the first 16 seed to knock off a one seed since 2004, when, Lisa Fink knocked off Jennifer Lopez in the ’64 hottest women alive’ bracket, hosted in my basement. The judges were myself and four of my closest friends and the decision was very controversial. We each put in a bunch of names and a third party created the bracket. One of my friends decided it’d be funny to put my mom in there. My mom is a gorgeous specimen, but not exactly my cup of tea. She defeated Jennifer Lopez four votes to one advancing to the round of 32. I’m not sure which of us didn’t vote for my mom but whoever it was is a prick. A true Cinderella story. Lisa Fink was the first 16 seed to knock off a one seed. Never Forget! But, anyway, the real story of this weekend was Tiger Woods, for the second week in a row, finishing in the top 5 of a PGA Tour event. At the Arnold Palmer Invitational this week, Tiger came within a stroke of the lead on the back nine on Sunday before hitting one OB on 16 basically ending his chances. Truth is, no one was catching Rory McIlroy who shot eight under on Sunday and looked to be back in true dominating Rory form. But Tiger has a T2 and a 5th place finish in back to back weeks. He looks sharp and sexy again. He looks like he’s happier than ever to be back out there and God Damn it’s fun to watch. Jason made a comment last week on the podcast that, “if there is a Perkins anywhere near the course, Tiger is in trouble,” and while the point is taken, Tiger thrives while being a womanizing, animalistic, bloodhound. It was only after all of his “indiscretions” were exposed that he began to struggle. He had to put on an act of being the good guy, and changing his life. He lost his edge. No one fears a competitor who just left sex rehab. That’s not Tiger. Tiger is a crazy person who thinks he is a Navy Seal and lives at 120 mph while not giving a shit about who and how many people he has sex with. That’s peak Tiger. So, because of the fact that I absolutely love watching Tiger golf, and win, I hope he is back to his old ways of indiscriminate trips to pound-town. Another Green Jacket depends on it.
The Masters begins on April 5th and it is one of my favorite weekends of the year. It’s a tough act following Easter weekend because of Jesus parting the Red Sea mixed with falafel stands and turning one loaf of bread into thousands of pieces of avocado toast. Not to mention, black jack dealers in bunny costumes hopping around giving children batteries. I think the Masters’ Sunday will trump Easter this year. As soon as Mike Tirico or Jim Nantz bring you in from commercial whispering in a sweet, homoerotic tone referencing the blooming Azaleas blowing in the sweet Georgia spring breeze carrying the scent of Arnold Palmer’s aftershave, you’ll know spring has arrived. That is what the Masters is all about; Scenery, trees, beauty, a dead legend’s aroma, flowers, and green coats fit for champions. Ohh, right, this is an actual sporting event. These are pro athletes competing at the highest level. This is Tiger’s time to rise from the dead and with all the attention on Jesus the week prior, maybe Tiger can avoid crucifixion on Masters Friday, and triumph on Sunday. But alas, none of us should be watching sports on Sunday because the entire day should be devoted to praising our lord and savior. I’m hoping that Jesus is hungover as shit from all the resurrection parties he’ll have attended all week and he won’t notice me skipping out on the Sabbath. I don’t blame him for partying. If my Dad had me murdered but then changed his mind and brought me back to life, I’d probably hit the booze pretty hard too. That’s a family dynamic that is a recipe for chemical dependence if I ever heard one. But, back to the Masters.
My Masters Prediction: Tiger Woods, Rickie Fowler and Rory McIlroy will be tied after 72 holes and require a playoff. Wait, is this my prediction or my wet dream? Does it even really matter? Wet dreams can turn into predictions as quickly as you can change your sheets. The Masters’ playoff format is that of sudden death and once you are dead, not even your Dad can save you. They play the 18th hole and if it is still tied, they will go to the 10th hole and rotate between those two as many times as necessary. On the first playoff hole, Tiger, Rickie and Rory will all hit it right down the middle off the tee being in great shape to go at the flag. Tiger, in his Sunday Red, Rickie, in his Sunday Orange, and Rory, in whatever the hell color he decides to wear will all be standing on the 18th fairway as the lowering sun glistens off the picturesque horizon of rural Georgia. Three Gladiators all looking for something different. Tiger looking for his 5th green jacket and a 15th major coming inching closer to Jack’s 18. Rickie looking to break through for his first major and shed the title of most awesomely dressed man to never win a major. Rory looking for his 5th major, first green jacket and return to the dominance of the man that looked like he was ready to completely take over the golfing world in 2014. Rickie’s muscular, yet gorgeous girlfriend will be high on her pole vault so she can see over the massive galleries. Rickie’s caddie will use her as a reference point for Rickie’s approach. Tiger, sweat dripping off his brow, will look to the 18th green and go to his happy place; images of strippers, painkillers waiting for him as he parachutes into the pacific with a group of Navy Seals. Rory will feel the pressure of half the country of Ireland rooting for their favorite son, and the other half plotting to bomb his estate. Three men, three different journeys, three different motivations, all in prime position to take the Green Jacket. Tiger will be slightly away as he chose to hit his trusty driving iron off the tee. He will step up and address the ball, take one final look at the green and deliver a beautiful, smooth swing lifting the ball high in the air and shaping it perfectly. The gallery and the whole world will watch as his ball lands 5 feet from the pin and slowly trickles closer to within 2 feet. A Tiger fist pump ensues. Advantage Tiger. Rickie is up next. The ghosts of tournaments past and opportunities lost will be lurking around the hallowed grounds of Augusta. Is it finally his time? Rickie steps up and wastes no time hitting a high arching 8-iron directed right at his girlfriends left bicep. The ball lands 15 feet past the hole but the shot has just the right amount of backspin and rolls back to within 5 feet. Wonderful shot. Rickie is fantastic position to at least force a second playoff hole. Now Rory. Despite being the smallest in stature, Rory is the longest off the tee. His former caddies words echoing in his head, “you are Rory f****** McIlroy.” Pitching wedge in his hand, Rory will swing with Catholic and Protestant blood pulsing through his veins. Rory poses and watches as his beautiful wedge shot is headed right at the pin. The ball hits the flagstick and ricochets 18 feet to the right. A terribly unlucky break. Not a very Irish moment. The gladiators walk in unison back up to the 18th green once again and remove their hats as they salute the roaring group of privileged whites. What happens next is a mystery. Jesus will descend to the middle of the 18th green and the rapture will begin. Because everyone is ignoring the Sabbath, slightly hungover Jesus, in all of his wrath will manufacture a giant wave of polluted water that will sweep over Augusta sending the course and all of its patrons down into the depths of an ocean of panic. Out of all the golfers, Jesus will take only Bubba Watson to safety, because he lists being a Christian at the top of his twitter profile. This is what happens when we don’t listen to the commandments. You filthy sinners. The greatest finish ever at the Masters is ruined. If only we had all found God earlier. My money would have been on Tiger. Ohh well.
Opening Day is next week! This snowstorm is really getting me in the mood for baseball. Opening Day is one of the best days of the year in Baltimore and I am excited for the party, and the game. I plan on getting to Pickles Pub at about 4:30 pm on Tuesday to stake out my spot. I will go on an all out, season opening bender that will last until the final out is recorded on Thursday night. I figure the Orioles will win by at least 8 runs and get this season started out the right way. I will have my Orioles magic parody finished by next week to avoid my punishment, having to stand outside the stadium giving away those moronic, “Momentum” shirts that Coleman created. That would be an all time low point for me and in a year defined by low points, I’m trying to avoid another. It’s baseball season baby! Come see me in section 342 and I promise not to be too much of an asshole to your children. The blogging fame has definitely changed me but I still love being praised and being on camera so pictures and videos are welcomed. You can also come meet Bruce Fink, Real Estate agent to the middle class, and he will gladly give you his card and speak to you (between innings only please) about selling your house. This is a great time of the year to be in Baltimore and I hope everyone is as excited for the birds as I am.
If this blog post was too golf heavy for you, well, that’s just who I be. Goodnight, America, and to all my fans in South Korea, good morning.