“Why is that man so sad”? ~Luci, age 6

Posted: June 19, 2015 by jmklee in Uncategorized

I love sports for many reasons but there is one thing that always makes me excited.  Watching sports at times that usually don’t happen.  You know, waking up on a weekend morning and turning on the TV to see a live major event like the British Open or Wimbledon is always one of those sports bonuses I soak up.  So last night being able to watch live championship golf at 10pm was right up my alley.  Now I was glued and my 6-year-old daughter, Luci, actually crawled up on my lap to watch also but don’t ask me who is winning because I have no idea.  And frankly it does not matter.  Outside of Phil completing his career grand slam no one is going to remember who won this tournament.  It will be remembered for two things.  This God awful course that comes with its own train set and Tiger.


Take away that it’s so ugly it makes the worst British Open course look good.  Take away that these greens putt like they aerated them last week.  The question I have is what is up with these trains?  Is this Brewster’s Millions?  Hell, they even allowed the Hackensack Bulls to stop playing until the train passed.  Not here.  Play on they say.  The only time I have seen a sporting event effected by a train, I was playing freshmen baseball at Howe High School.  That field was so classy we found used needles and condoms left in the dugouts for our enjoyment.  Needless to say we put all of our equipment in the grass outside the dugout and no, I didn’t see Ron Johnson’s nice jacket.  He must have taken it with him.  Anyway, did no one tell the USGA about this train line that is in heavy use all day.  Luci even noticed the train and asked if there are always trains when you play golf.  When I told her no she asked the obvious question we are all asking.  “Then why is there a train there”.  I don’t know Luci, I don’t know.

Tiger.  Say what you want about Tiger but what we saw last night is something that we will talk about for a long time.  Much like when our Dads saw Willie Mays stumbling around centerfield in a Mets uniform or Joe Namath getting killed in a Rams jersey.  Once again, I was watching with Luci who was fascinated with the fact a train was passing by every shot, when she asked another question that summed up the entire evening.  “Why is that man so sad”? 

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All I could tell her was, because honey, he is starting to realize something that the rest of us have known for a while.


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