Watching golf these days is as much fun as it'sever been. Granted, I may have low standardsin this area. I still enjoy watching McCordhitting fat 4-irons on the range, and theoccasional stone-cold top off the tee from SirIan Ball-Acher Flinch (to which he was occasionally prone evenduring the height of his great career), but holy crap, we have someinteresting stuff to watch now, with some of the players who grewup with Tiger Woods as their hero hitting their prime, and a fewof the older ones getting over their initial shock and awe over thefreakishness of TW's domination.
In CBS's opening event at Torrey Pines, we had Philbert Mickelpersonand Bubba Watson going at it (No need tomess with Bubba's name. I mean, it's Bubba...)to the bitter and twisted end, with Bonestending the 72nd flag from 75 yards. Itwas great stuff, and this writer has hada changed perception of Watson, B.since his win at Hartford last year.Like many others in the media, Ihad thought that Bubba was alittle disturbed, maybe somekind of concussed humansquirrel looking for an imaginarynutsack. On the coursehe was jumpier than a bag oftoads, and liable to snap atcameramen, course reporters(though never at me - I alwaystook the precaution of stayingat least 100 yards away fromhim and making stuff up) orother nearby people for havingan irregular heartbeat, possession ofa yellow shirt, or just being there. What was wrong with the boywas unclear, but from personal experience I knew that inside hishead there was a mental movie that only he could see.
Now we know about Bubba Watson's father, and the long battlewith cancer the Green Beret fought with predictable valor whilehis son was trying to play the Tour and keep his sleeve-worn heartfrom breaking in public. Bubba lost that battle, too, in the armsof his wife, Angie, on the 16th green after his playoff win overCorey Pavin and Scott Verplank. Bubba's dad saw his son win,though, and before he left us would see him wear the Americanflag in a Ryder Cup. I know I speak for a lot of us on this side ofboth camera and page when I say that I hope Bubba Watson'ssorrow is turning quickly to happy memories of a great man, andI apologize for not understanding him sooner. Occasionally Bubbamight still seem like a basket case, but he is always good TV.
Now we have a bunch of these guys who blow what's left ofmy mind with what they do with club and ball. I remember MattKuchar when I stayed 100 yards away from him as well, in case heshanked one into the Y of my Fronts, or one of his prepubescentzits exploded and I got some of it on me. Now look at him - hecan hardly finish out of the top 10 or miss from ten feet, and hehas better skin than Jessica Simpson.
Speaking of fresh faces, Rickie Fowler is following in the CamiloVillegas tradition of, "Yes, I am that pretty, and I can play, too," andhe's just been joined by a guy called Jhonny (and no, that's not atypo) Vegas? Seriously, what are the chances that someone calledJhonny Vegas doesn't have a criminal record? Yet the closest thingto a crime this young Venezuelan has committed is notreturning Hugo Chavez's phone calls. (Frankly, Ithink he should be paid extra for this.)
Dustin Johnson was my player of theyear last season. A tall, windswept kidwith a handsome, crooked smile whopulverizes golf courses into submissionoff the tee, he walks withthe athletic grace of a westerngunslinger and makes old folkslike me want to blow chunks.Of course, in the last round ofthe U.S. Open he shot himselfin the foot, invoking inevitablepredictions of his mental demise,and then had the PGAChampionship stolen from himin the most horrifying circumstances,compounded by theunimaginable trauma of beingdragged naked out of the showerby me for an interview only minutesafterwards! After this unrighteous hosing, not only was he honestand gracious, Dustin was lean, muscular, and he smelled good.Out of journalistic integrity I'd also gotten naked for the interview,and that didn't even bother him! Toss in the way he finished theyear and my friend, if you're still not a Dustin Johnson fan, you'reprobably Taliban. Do not have a nice day.
I don't have enough words left to go through all the playerswho are worth a mention here, but professional golf is in greatshape. Now, I hope they all learn something from Dustin Johnsonand Bubba Watson, who, like Fuzzy Zoeller and Craig Stadlerbefore them, show us who the hell theyare. Because it's not just about greatshots - great people make golf fun towatch. I know you've heard it before,but these guys are good!
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