I need to admit I hate playing golf, but despite that revelation I am a huge fan of the game and admire the magical efforts of the PGA tour members. It's just that I don't know any of their names anymore.
There was a time when The Golden Bear battled the likes of Arnold Palmer, Tom Watson, the zany Mexican Lee Trevino and the crafty little South African Gary Player. Then a new era arrived to carry the torch and send the aforementioned into a noble retirement. Greg Norman, Johnny Miller and David Duvall began stealing headlines along with Nick Price and Nick Faldo and then yet another changing of the guard arrived.
The last decade or so, the names have evolved yet again into Mickelson, Vijay Singh, Ernie Els, Ratief Goosen and of course the biggest cat in the jungle - Tiger Woods. After watching the PGA Championship last weekend I couldn't help but notice without the aid of the announcers, I didn't have a prayer in even pronouncing most of the names on the leader board bringing to light the fact that the game has truly gone international.
If you don't speak German (Martin Kaymer) or Spanish (Camilo Villegas) or Mandarin (Wen-chong Liang) than you would be out in the cold. There're still plenty of English speaking successful pros, but they just so happen to come from England (Paul Casey and Simon Dyson) or Ireland (Rory MclLroy) and it seems the rest of the globe has caught the old dogs.
Switching gears to another sport, but still on the theme of the new kids on the block, other than the Tampa Bay Rays and New York Yankees can anyone name the team who has the next best record in all of MLB?
Didn't think so. How about those San Diego Padres with a lineup of cast offs and no-namers that rival an expansion team?
Other than the booming bat of first-sacker Adrian Gonzalez the Padres rely on the leagues best pitching and perhaps the NL's most consistent closer in Heath Bell, who currently has 36 saves and counting. They have little or no offence.
Who is Luke Gregerson and why does he have such ungodly numbers? With 70 strikeouts in just 58 innings he is holding NL hitters to a measly .171 batting average and the list of fabulous bullpen chuckers just never endsyou just have never heard of any of them.
A young right-hander from Venezuela named Edwin Mujica has struck out more than one batter per inning and keeps NL hitters around the .209 mark and his comrades in the pen are all making huge contributions.?
I had predicted the Dodgers to easily win the West, but it seems that their bonehead boss, Joe Torre, has mismanaged a fine roster - again and turned what looked to be a dominant bullpen into a bunch of neurotic thumb-sucking losers. When Jonathon Broxton gets demoted from the closer role you know things are in total disarray. Torre has destroyed more arms and dismantled more egos than he ever got credit for. In his tenure with the Yankees he derailed pitching prospects faster than his GM could buy them for him. Time for Torre to head back to broadcasting where he can do less damage. Like players-even managers have to be put out to pasture eventually.
All sports see a bevy of fresh talent arrive each year to wash away the old faded stars and keep the game fresh and exciting. In the case of the PGA, the new faces appear to be for real, but in closing can't they at least dress like the old guys?
Did you catch the green shirt worn by second place finisher Bubba Watson? Not that I shop at Value Village, a fine store for the underpaid writers of the world, but even I would have never given that shirt a spot in my humble closet. He looked like a colourblind homeless guy.
There were so many weird coluor combos for a minute I had to consider the notion that today's fashion trends have passed me by but then I glanced at my green sweat pants and white t-shirt and smiled a knowing smile.
Cool can't be contrived. You're only truly cool when you try not to be.
As one CBS announcer was heard to say, "It seems purple has become the new red," but you heard it from me enough with the checkered pants they make my eyes cross before they have finished the front nine holes.
I have my annual nine-hole challenge game against my 84-year-old uncle, who beats me every year coming up soon so I may have the throw off his game with some flashy duds. Don't expect to see any pictures, but I'll be sure to admit to being humiliated by a chain-smoking hard drinking senior citizen. Gotta go hit the driving range I guess.
Pride is not in the vocabulary of this particular writer and neither is the word par. Wish me luck.
