Follow Through

Walking through Andersonville on a Sunday morning, I saw something you really don’t see every day: the outdoor goodbyes from a gay threesome. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. I definitely saw three guys standing in a small circle in a courtyard, and they were each hugging and kissing one another, and then two of them walked off and the third went back into his apartment building. It was a very strange sight. Less strange in Andersonville than in most other places in the country, but strange nonetheless.

I was walking back to the Jackorczak Estate (a name I’ve come up for the apartment, that is in no way approved or endorsed by the actual owners) from Aaron’s place, where he very generously let me stay last night while he was at his girlfriend’s. It’s amazing how much you appreciate sleeping in a bed after being away from one for so long. I figure basically everything in life is like that.

Meanwhile, I just tuned into the PGA Championship (one of the four biggest golf tournaments of the year) and holy shit! There are five holds left and Tiger Woods, the number one player in the world, is completely tied with Y.E. Yang, a guy who, as far as I can tell, just wandered onto the course from out of the crowd. Seriously, who the hell is this guy?! He’s acting kind of like an anime character, too. And I don’t mean that to be racist, even though it is. He just has a big smile and a spring in his step, which seems a little bizarre to me for someone who is in by far the most high-pressure situation of his career, probably his whole life. But hey, this state of mind is what’s keeping him in the tournament.

This is also especially interesting because Tiger, after having a rather subpar year so far (at least by his standards), has played two tournaments in a row the past two weekends and won both of them. He’s trying to announce that he’s still the man, in other words, and the way to do that decisively would be to take the PGA Championship as well. Too bad this sprightly little Asian man is standing in his way. My Dad is obsessed with golf and watches it constantly, and I’ll admit that most of the time it’s pretty boring, but this is the ideal situation to watch: all tied up, with about an hour to go. Even the dry British announcers seem excited, like they slammed a Red Bull with their morning tea.

OH SHIT Yang just sunk his chip shot for an eagle!! This little guy isn’t giving up. And he seems so goddamn calm, I can’t believe it. Also, his caddy looks strangely similar to Buster from Arrested Development. The whole thing is so surreal, like Tiger is having a really bizarre nightmare and we’re getting the chance to watch.

Meanwhile, I played golf myself three times when I was home in California, each of them a story in itself. To give a little background on my personal history, back when my family lived in Ohio we were members of a very posh country club and I took golf lessons and played all the time. Since we moved from there, I’ve played on average of once or twice a year. In other words, I’m terrible. But at the same time I learned the fundamentals awhile ago, so I’m not completely hopeless. The first round I played at home was with the incomparable Jim Rodman. In this situation I had a lot of factors stacked against me: I was a) hungover, b) stoned, and, worst of all, c) wearing flip flops. Yet, somehow, I triumphed over adversity and actually played pretty well, wiping the floor with Jim (we’ve agreed that we’re fairly evenly matched, even though every other time I’ve played with Jim he’s won). Then I played with my Dad and some of his work friends a few days later, sober, well rested, dressed properly, and absolutely stunk up the place. It was a sorry site, and I’m pretty sure my Dad’s friends thought I had some sort of physical or mental disability. Then, to finish things off, I played one round with just my Dad. I set a goal right before we started (to break 100) and played pretty well throughout but ended up with an absolutely devastating final score of, yes a 100.

In other words, I choked. Those dreaded words in golf, and it looks like today they might apply to Tiger Woods. Everyone has their demons, sure, but who knew that the one for perhaps the world’s most famous athlete would arrive in such an unassuming package?