NO PROBS, RORS
At 2:45PM on Friday, March 6th, Rory McIlroy whirlybirded his three iron sixty yards into Lake Comb Over during the second round of the WGC Championship at Donald Trump’s Doral Resort and Golf Club. A few nudge nudge, wink wink, comments from the announce team, an aw shucks I was just, you know, a little frustrated, response from the impish prodigy, and all was forgiven, swept under the carpet, put to bed and forever blotted from our collective consciousness. A few years ago Tiger Woods kicked his club on the sixteenth tee at Augusta and one would have thought the very fabric of human life as we know it had been torn asunder, that plagues and floods were imminent, and our sense of moral rectitude had been dealt a blow from which it might never recover. So what gives? Do enough of us hate the guy that much that we react one way for him and another for everyone else? Is it a race thing, or is it an accumulation of consistent and dependable arrogance from the fourteen time major champion that has thinned our skin and sets our nerve endings on high alert for any misstep? Just asking.
How great was it to see Padraig Harrington win last week at The Honda? The guy defies logic. He wins three majors, goes back to the drawing board for a swing revamp, falls off the radar for seven years, then from out of nowhere wins on arguably the sternest seventy-two hole grind on tour. Truly remarkable. It was an ascension from the ashes. Too bad Phoenix was last month.
Big Jack called the Ryder Cup Task Force ‘over the top.’ He was being diplomatic. It was glaringly obvious, as he sat in the booth with Johnny Miller and Dan Hicks, that he thought the idea of circling the wagons to figure out a strategy to beat the Euros was just plain silly. Want to win? Play better, period. Make more putts, hit the shots when you need to. There are no X’s and O’s on a chalk board for golf. Go out and do your job. If you win, great. If you don’t, too bad. Don’t look to blame anyone but yourself. Lee Trevino said last week that if he had a losing record In the Ryder Cup like Phil Mickelson’s, he’d keep his mouth shut. Sounds like some good advice.
Write it down: Patrick Reed will win this year’s Masters. He hits it right to left, putts great, and has all the shots. He lives on that fine line between confidence and arrogance, and nothing rattles him. He doesn’t flinch and he doesn’t give up. He is tough as nails and as focused as a hungry cat outside a wood pile. He showed what he was made of at last year’s Ryder Cup. Bet the farm.