Archive for PGA Golf
With the announcement that Ryder Cup captain Corey Pavin has made it official and named Tiger Woods to the 2010 Ryder Cup team, Jim Gray can take a break from drowning that puppy to take solace in the fact that he was right all along when he reported that Pavin told him Woods (photographed above, in happier times, when Elin was unaware of his indiscriminate hoochie mama bangfest) would be on the team way back in August. Okay, the fact that Woods is now on the team does in no way vindicate Gray or confirm the accuracy of his original report, but anytime I can quote Gray as calling someone a liar and yelling, “You’re going down!” while sticking his finger in another person’s face I am going to take it.
Pavin also selected Zach Johnson, Stewart Cink and an unproven Rickie Fowler to round out his four captain’s picks, but the fact that Gray’s assertion was right all along, despite the questionable accuracy of his original report confirms something, I guess, I’m just not sure exactly what it confirms. Um, maybe that Jim Gray is a colossal turdburgler, perhaps? Yeah, let’s go with that for now.
Tiger, Fowler among Ryder Cup picks [Golf.com]
TMZ, courtesy of the mysterious ways in which it operates, somehow got its paws on a photo of Tiger Woods shortly after his divorce from Elin was finalized in a Bay County courthouse in Panama City, Florida earlier this month. Posing with him in the above photo is none other than Cliff Clavin, who for some reason or another, is now working as a bailiff.
And yes, I am aware that Cliff Clavin, the know-it-all alcoholic mailman from Cheers real name is John Ratzenberger but if I would have put used the actor’s name instead of the character he will always be associated with, none of you young whippersnappers would have had any idea who I was referring to. In fact, a lot of you probably have no idea who Cliff Clavin is nor the fact that Archibald Leach, Bernard Schwartz and Lucille LeSueur have never been in his kitchen.
In any event, I feel bad for Ratzenberger that he has to supplement his income with side gigs as a court official. One would expect that all that money he has been pulling in from his voice work in those Pixar films would be more than enough to live on, but there you go. Ratzenberger does have one thing going for him, I suppose: he is now my second favorite bailiff, right behind Bull Shannon from Night Court (insert funky bass line here).
On the other hand, perhaps there was a separate knob for the volume on the radio alarm. Which leads me to wonder, does Jim Furyk, who overslept this morning, thus missing his 7:30 tee time for a pro-am event today, prefer Top 40, Classical or Adult Contemporary for the music to rouse him from his pleasant slumber?
Now that I have exhausted my daily allotment of Seinfeld references, here’s how it happened: Furyk after awaking at 7:23, rushed to the course but did not arrive at the Ridgewood Country Club in Paramus, New Jersey until 7:35. What’s worse, his late arrival got him disqualified from the Barclays this weekend and the opportunity to compete for the $1.35 million prize. But all is not lost: missing the Barclays – which is an event in the FedEx Playoffs – will not prevent him from competing in the next round as he is currently in 3rd place in the standings as the top 100 in the FedEx Cup standings automatically move on.
But why did he oversleep? I can think of two distinct possibilities:
- Furyk was up way too late doing his complex and thorough Rogaine applications; or
- Furyk was up to all hours of the night doing his best to satisfy the insatiable sexual appetite of his comely wife, Tabitha.
Actually, Furyk told the AP that he typically sets his alarm on his cell phone and it lost power sometime during the night. At the same time, either of the above scenarios I came up with could be just as likely.
Jim Furyk DQ’d at Barclays for missing pro-am tee time [Golf.com]
Rumor has it Tiger is celebrating the divorce with a quiet meal at a neighborhood Perkins restaurant.
Man, I really thought these star-crossed lovers were going to make it in the end, but alas, according to a joint announcement, the nearly six-year marriage of Tiger Woods and Elin Nordegren is officially kaput (via CBS Sports).
“We are sad that our marriage is over and we wish each other the very best for the future,” they said in a statement released by attorneys. “While we are no longer married, we are the parents of two wonderful children and their happiness has been, and will always be, of paramount importance to both of us.”
Jesus, even a statement announcing the demise of the embodiment of one of the most profound, emotional connections one can have with another person sounds cold, unemotional and robotic when it is issued by Tiger Woods. What was Tiger on when he approved that thing? Ambien?
Now that his marriage is over, I look forward to Tiger reassuming the mantle as the world’s greatest golfer. I mean, can you imagine how hard it is to swing a club with a crippling case of blue balls? So, Tiger’s handlers, I think we all know what comes next: all aboard the Whore Train!
Woods, wife Elin finalize divorce, will share custody of children [CBS Sports]
Sweet Mother Mary, that is…well, it’s just not right.
John Daly uploaded the above photo three days ago for worldwide dissemination after he unceremoniously withdrew from competition during the 2nd round of the PGA Championship, the 17th time he has pulled out of a tournament in the past five years. Daly cited a shoulder injury for quitting not even midway through the final major of the season and provided the following hilarious explanation via his Twitter account:
“thinkin it happened on bunker hole 1, played thru in miserable pain, saw Tour Doc after play & have tore rotator cup [sic] after tests were done.”
Ah yes. The dreaded rotator cup injury. Those can be quite debilitating.
Thankfully for JD, ol’ Doc Whitelaw was on hand to ice it down and do God knows what else and wouldn’t you know it? Miraculously, Daly is now healthy enough to compete in the Wyndham Championship this week, mere days after his rotator cup was like, totally torn up and stuff. Actually, Daly reported that thanks to Doc Whitelaw’s expertise and um, unique bedside manner, it was determined to be only a rotator cup strain. Nice.
But egad, that photo, which Daly captioned with “Me & Doc Whitelaw in my living room, icing my shoulder & watching some NFL.”
Let’s just go with the theory that was all they were doing. You know, with the Hippocratic Oath and whatnot. Sheesh.
Surprise! Daly’s Injured “Rotator Cup” Feeling Good Enough to Play Wyndham [Wei Under Par]
John Daly Gives PGA Championship the Cold Shoulder [Wei Under Par]
Big Ben: [talking to Tiger] Tell her I’m rich, and I’m good looking, and I have, uh, a rapist’s wit.
No good? How about this one?
Big Ben: I don’t know, Tiger, these places just don’t do it for me. Brings back too many memories.
Tiger: What happened, Ben? Some little filly break your heart?
Big Ben: Nah, it was a girl. Rachel Uchitel. We stayed at a place like this once No-Tell Motel out on Route 31.
Tiger: Uchitel? From New York City?
Big Ben: The same. We had this incredibly romantic time. Boy, I thought we’d be together forever. (sighs) Then about a week later, right out of the blue, she sends me a John Deere letter.
Tiger: That’s cold, Ben. Give you any reason?
Big Ben: Yeah. I called her up. She gave me some crap about me not listening to her enough or something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.
[H/T Waggle Room]
Man, I wish I knew how to use Photoshop
“Has the whole world gone crazy? Am I the only one around here who gives a shit about the rules? Mark it seven!”
Rules officials did their best Walter Sobchak impression on Sunday at Whistling Straits by taking a hard-line stance regarding Dustin Johnson grounding his club in a so-called bunker, assessing him a two-stroke penalty on the 18th hole and effectively ripping the Wanamaker Trophy right out of his hands due to adhering to only the strictest interpretation of a questionable course rule.
The warning, printed on a notice which was apparently posted all over the course, as well as the locker rooms and, according to rules officials, everywhere they could post a damn sign:
“All areas of the course that were designed and built as sand bunkers will be played as bunkers (hazards), whether or not they have been raked. This will mean that many bunkers positioned outside the ropes, as well as some areas of bunkers inside the ropes, close to the rope line, will likely include numerous footprints, heel prints and tire tracks during play of the championship. Such irregularities of surface are part of the game and no free relief will be available from these conditions.”
While many are crying foul over the royal screw job Johnson was subjected to on what could have been a triumphant Sunday afternoon for the golfer, others are not so willing to give the golfer a free pass. CBS Sports Senior Writer Steve Elling is the member of the latter group.
The fog which has delayed the start of the 92nd PGA Championship at Whistling Straits in Kohler, Wisconsin this morning rolled in ominously, almost like a supernatural force unto itself, leaving players standing around and nervously waiting for it to lift, yet terribly afraid of what demonic creatures may be lurking within its soupy mist.
Just kidding. It’s just fog, people. Certainly nothing to be afraid of, unless you, like me, were creeped the hell out as a wee lad from watching the 1980 John Carpenter classic – not that dreadful remake from 2005. That atrocity was insultingly stupid.
Anyhoo, with the voyage back to my formative years to examine my fractured, haunted psyche out of the way, here’s the gist of what’s going down at the pristine Wisconsin golf course (via NBC Sports):
Bo Van Pelt, Scott Hebert and Vaughn Taylor were scheduled to tee off from the par-4 first at 8 a.m. ET, but that time was likely to be pushed back a couple hours.
“Once the fog has lifted and it is clear to play, the first starting time will be 30 minutes following that time,” officials said.
According to a report on ESPN Chicago, play is tentatively scheduled to resume at 11:10 ET, which means the fog will have caused a 3 hour, 10 minute delay. Hopefully, we don’t lose any players to things that go bump in the night. If you ask me, they should have just let the players venture out onto the course and play it as it is – it would be kind of like the “Fog Bowl,” the 1988 NFL Divisional Playoff game between the Eagles and Bears, only with unsuspecting bystanders getting drilled in the gallery by Tiger’s errant drives. Because they wouldn’t be able to see Tiger’s wild shots off the tee bearing down on them because of the fog, you see.
Fog delays start of PGA Championship [NBC Sports]
Heavy fog delays start of PGA [ESPN]
I cannot believe I went with a Billy Joel reference there. What’s done is done, I guess there’s no turning back now. What’s a backspace button?
Above is an absolutely delightful photo of John Daly sneaking a heater as he got in a practice round at Whistling Straits in advance of the PGA Championship. This photo encompasses what we love about John Daly: his never-say-die mentality, his unwillingness to bow to convention and his love of Marlboros. Mmmm…smoky treats. I only wonder if he had the energy to endure one of his patented workouts after the round.
Just one question: who’s the chick? What do you mean that’s a dude? Rickie Fowler, you say? Big deal. I don’t care if that punk was Ricky freaking Nelson, without a haircut, there would be no way in hell that damn hippie would ever get invited to my Garden Party.
[From John Daly's twitpic (via Wei Under Par)]
Excerpted from the Thug of Smug’s self-righteous (big surprise) and proselytizing column, “Fading as a Champion, Woods Needs to Be Dad”:
If we can feel sorry for a man who threw away something close to a perfect life, just so he could sleep with bimbos, then this is the time. Eldrick Woods — I no longer see anyone named Tiger — is so lost as a golfer and discombobulated as a human being that he now will rely on a captain’s pick to make the U.S. Ryder Cup team, the ultimate acknowledgment of failure in his craft. What he really should do is disappear from public view after the PGA Championship, plot a return for next year and continue the one exercise that keeps him honorable in life.
Being a father.
…
Falling shy of the record that would have defined him, Eldrick Woods still can be successful in one area. He can be a father. I don’t want to hear how he plans to practice with a swing coach. I want to hear that he can’t practice, that he’s too busy taking care of his children.
It’s the only way he can salvage his soiled, ridiculed name.
Thanks, Jay, for that self-aggrandizing, shaking-of-one’s finger look at Tiger Woods and for allowing us the honor of reading your esteemed opinion on how Woods should deal with his personal life, especially the manner in which he should care for his children. There’s an old saying that goes if you don’t have kids – which I imagine Mariotti does not – I cannot believe a woman would actually have sex with him, much less bear his child – don’t tell other people how they should raise their children.
Now go back to doing what you do best: lurking in Chicago bars and writing the same old vitriolic diatribe against Ozzie Guillen over and over again, you sanctimonious prick.
Fading as a Champion, Woods Needs to Be Dad [Fanhouse]
