This Isn't Who It Would Be If It Wasn't Who It Is

Yesterday, my friends, two important things took place in this world of ours:

1. The rescue of Capt. Richard Phillips.
2. Angel Cabrera won the Masters after a 2-hole playoff.

What do these two seemingly unrelated stories have in common? Almost nothing.

Almost.

On the high seas, we've certainly sent a message to the Somalian Pirate community that we don't appreciate their ongoing efforts to disrupt shipping around the Horn of Africa, that is, if you think shooting them in the head with high-powered rifles is a message, which I do. Now that they've raised the ire of the United States of America, what are these poor, poor pirates to do?

Don't worry, my violent, wayward, yet somehow possibly useful friends. I have a plan for you.

In case you were wondering, this is where the Masters comes in...we've all been watching a golf tournament, slipping in out and out of consciousness on the couch, and listening to the dulcet tones of Jim Nantz and Verne Lundquist when something terrible tears us from our final descent in Dreamworld.

Yes, all too frequently, it is the golf fan/idiot who feels compelled to screech "GET IN THE HOLE!!!" on every single shot. One particularly desperate individual even let loose "GET ON THE GREEN!!!" at one point on Saturday afternoon. That's not creative, that's not original, that's just lowered expectations, folks, and frankly, it's just sad.

You know who I'm talking about, ladies and gentlemen. These are the morons who also go to concerts and yell "FREEBIRD!!!" for three hours while still thinking they're somehow original. The Somali Pirates need to find these people, eliminate them from the gene pool, and restore Saturday/Sunday afternoon golf viewing to its proper place in the Pantheon of Napping.

I don't want to know when they do this, and I don't want to know how they do this. All I care about is finishing the job. Somali Pirates, a nation turns its hopeful eyes to you.

Say Something Once, Why Say It Again?

This afternoon, while watching the Masters, I said two derogatory things.

First, I said that I hoped Trevor Immelman would have a massive collapse down the stretch.

Second, I wished that the FreeCreditReport.com guy would die a slow death in a wood-chipper.

I only regret one of them.

Trevor, please accept my apologies.

Folk Down There Really Don't Care Which Way the Pressure Lies

Congratulations to Ms. Sammie Marshall for correctly naming "Misty Mountain Hop" from Led Zeppelin's album IV as the Sunday Song of the Day.

It's probably a bit like rooting for death, taxes, and Wal-Mart, but Tiger Woods simply continues to amaze.

"He's the best player the game has ever seen, as far as I'm concerned," said Stewart Cink, who played in Woods' group over the weekend. "Just to watch him play and see how he goes about his business. I like how he stays calm and stays on task, whether he's two or three shots behind or eight shots ahead. It's the same Tiger Woods. He makes it look easy, but it's not easy."

"Honestly … everyone needs to leave the guy alone," Couples said. "Every time he gets upset, he wins by 15 shots. We have to tout him, tell him how great he is, be enamored."

"Unlike the SoCal Weather, Woods Delivers With Consistency" by Bob Harig

I'll Tip My Hat to the New Constitution

Congratulations to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for correctly naming "City of Blinding Lights" by U2 as the Wednesday Song of the Day.

I appreciate everyone's thoughts on my post yesterday regarding Houston. In particular, I think Cody's comment and Mike's thoughts really conveyed the essence of what mystifies me about the place. It's as if the moment you move down there, you're handed a glass of "Pro-Houston" kool-aid, you drink up the intoxicating brew, and you're suddenly in love with the place. Perhaps I shouldn't be so cynical about the fact that Houstonians love their town. Perhaps I should just recognize that all of us who love our homes probably seem crazy to someone.

I've written before about my affinity for Tiger Woods, but today I'm going to write about my affinity for the U.S. Open. I understand that it is easy to dismiss golf as boring, outdated, a mere accompaniment to Sunday afternoon naps, or a myriad of other less than positive things, but each year during the four Majors (Masters, U.S. Open, British Open, and P.G.A. Championship), I wouldn't say that I turn into Jim Nantz, but I do display a heightened level of interest.

With that said, among the four Majors, the U.S. Open has to be my favorite. Sure, there is an army across America that adores the Masters, and honestly, how could you not? Everyone loves the cheesy CBS promos that begin airing during March Madness, a harbinger of spring as reliable as the inevitable Texas Rangers meltdown, but for my money, give me the U.S. Open.

Give me a tournament where the USGA decides to turn revered golf courses into torture sites. Give me a tournament where they make the greens so fast that putts fly right off the putting surface. Give me a tournament where the USGA's sadistic objective is simply to test the wits of the world's best golfers and find out if a pro might snap and bash in a clown's head like Happy Gilmore.

I don't foresee anything like that happening this weekend at Oakmont, but if it does, just remember that the USGA drove them to do it.

This has nothing to do with the my current topic, but I'm thinking about compiling a list of songs/videos from the 90's that already seem incredibly dated. I ran across the following clip recently on YouTube and it honestly made me wonder if I had grown up in the 90's or the Haight-Ashbury/Summer of Love 60's.

Seriously, were the Gallagher brothers just sitting around one day thinking, "You know what, even though it's the mid-1990's, let's make a video that contains all of the cliches of the mid to late 60's and film it from the perspective of Jim Morrison experiencing a bad LSD trip." Is that really what happened here? I'm pretty sure that Liam Gallagher would be one of the most difficult people on the planet to interview (I also place Mike Tyson, Kim Jong Il, and the entire cast of Flavor of Love on that list), but these are things I need to know.

With Every Mistake We Must Surely Be Learning

Congratulations to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for correctly naming "All Along the Watchtower" by Bob Dylan and countless others as the Sunday Song of the Day.

I'll jump right into it today: I root for Tiger Woods. Now, many of you who know me might say, "Justin, isn't that equivalent to rooting for the Yankees, Wal-Mart, and Microsoft? What's the fun in cheering for the guy who always wins?" Well, here's the thing, he doesn't always win. I think I saw more yesterday about the guy than I have in many of his dominating victories.

You should know that I usually only watch four golf tournaments per year, the so-called Majors, or the Masters, U.S. Open, British Open, and PGA Championship respectively. As has been the case in the last decade, Tiger Woods is often at the top of those tournaments. Sometimes he wins in simply dominating fashion, particularly the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach in 2000, where he won by 15, yes 15, shots. Tiger is usually this stoic figure striding down the fairway on some inevitable march towards the history books, but there are those moments, such as occurred yesterday, where he lets us get a small peak into his psyche.

Yesterday as he walked towards the 18th green, knowing that he had been beaten by a relative unknown named Zack Johnson, you could see the wheels turning in Tiger's head. It was almost as if a cartoon bubble was attached to his head that contained the words, "This just doesn't happen to me," but it did, and that's where I think the lesson is to be learned.

It seems that the true lesson of greatness is learning to live what Kipling described midway through the poem "If", which I posted last week. "If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same." That's it. That is a lesson that cuts across every field of human endeavor. I was reminded of the same lesson when I was reading John Adams by McCullough. The true mark of greatness is not always in our triumphs, in our successes. Often the distinguishing characteristic of those who will be remembered is that they carried on in an indomitable way, even in the face of great adversity.

In his own way, Tiger embodies that in my mind. Today in golf, he is without peer. Sure, you may have Zack Johnsons and other figures who come out of the woodwork from time to time, but often, Tiger's greatest competitors are the history books. The reason that I root for Tiger is that even though he suffers these weeks where the moment slips away, he continues to work, continues to steel himself, and continues his inexorable journey towards the pinnacle.