The year is 2018 and having realised that a reality TV personality isn’t fit to run the most powerful office in the world, Americans have turned to renowned politician, Oprah Winfrey, in the hopes that she’ll save the nation from a period of ungodly rule. The best boxer of a generation has been seen stepping into an Octagon in Paddypower trunks as Floyd Mayweather and Conor McGregor attempt to pull off the second biggest heist in human history, while in California, the greatest player of all time stands over a putt on the 13th green at Torrey Pines having been fused back together in a bid to save the sport of golf.
Tiger, in his familiar Sunday red, has his audience standing to… ‘GET IN THE HOLE!’ With about as much grace as Bishop Brennan manages to retain on a visit to Craggy Island, an idiot speaks with Tiger’s stroke only halfway towards completion. He may as well have gone the whole hog and screamed; ‘You will not make this putt, YOU JACKASS’, but credit to him, I guess he wanted to maintain an air of class as Woods’ ball skewed right, going right.
Oh yeah baby, Tiger’s back, and you know what that means right? Hoorah, you guessed it. America’s back. The land of the free and the home of the brave – a nation of supersized golf enthusiasts with their perfect teeth and shiny revolvers- oh how I’ve missed their excitable interjections and spontaneous eruptions lighting up my SkySports coverage. Tiger attracts an ilk of golf fan not seen since Happy Gilmore took his brand of ice hockey to our grassy fields and extra extra, read all about it. This is just the beginning folks.
Of course it’s unfair of me to tar a nation with one dollop of mashed potatoes. I love the U S of A as much as the next patriot and can claim to be 1/64th American purely by making it up. But I have travelled through the United States plenty of times and got the t-shirt to prove it. In fact, I remember wearing that t-shirt by a swimming pool in Scottsdale Arizona one day when a lovely couple with a thick country drawl asked me if I wouldn’t mind posing for a photo for their son – “he’d really dig that shirt you’re wearing,” they told me.
‘Oh to be sure nay bother laddy’, I replied lyrically to which the husband asked me, “that’s one hell of an accent boy, where’s it from?”
“Just outside Dublin.” I said, realising that the Lily Whites probably hadn’t made it this far yet.
“Dublin, huh? I don’t know it”
“Dublin, you know, Ireland…”
“Ireland? Sorry man, we’re not from around here.”
“Neither am I”, I yelped adolescently. “Ireland, as in Europe!’
“Europe you say? I gotta check that out!”
Now I can’t be sure if this was the same person who decided to inadvertently sabotage Tiger’s putt on Sunday but I do wonder, who else could it have been? In fairness to those around the guilty party, they called for his ejection in total disgust before Woods had even holed out. But as
Tiger strolled back towards caddie, Joe LaCava, cutting a forlorn figure, I couldn’t help but smile as his face momentarily disappeared behind the fluttering red, white and blue flag hanging atop the pin. Welcome back Tiger, for that man is America, and so are you.
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