Jordan Spieth (shown here using special effects to give the appearance of running) holed out from the sand in a playoff to join Tiger Woods as the only golfers to win 10 events before the age of 24.  It was a great moment for a sport that is dying for someone to take over, as ratings sag on a weekly basis.   But let’s not over blow this thing. It was a great shot, and Spieth is the best golfer on the tour.  But from what I’m reading, you’d think no one had ever hit a bunker shot into a hole in the history of the game.  I’ve done it, five times actually, and I hardly ever play and basically suck.  It’s harder to hole out from the fairway, due to the fact that you’re farther away.  He was in a green side bunker.  I.e. Close to the hole.  Plus he was in the same bunker in regulation, so he got to practice this shot earlier on the same day.    If he’s so great, he could have hit it the first time around and spared the viewers another two hours of watching this monotonous game.

Here is what CBS Sports wrote about the moment: Spoiler alert, you might puke.

“The 10-second sequence is an unforgettable one. The ball rolls in, and then, simultaneously, Spieth flings his lob wedge — a la Jose Bautista — while caddie Mike Greller flips the bunker rake over his head. What followed was a golf aberration: a perfectly-executed celebration. Spieth and Greller instinctually went shoulder-bump and made golf seem like the most fun sport in the world. ”

If I’m never going to forget that celebration it’s because of how incredibly lame it was. The player tosses his club, ok so what?  What else is he going to do with it?  The game is over, you either toss it because you won, or you snap it in half over your leg and toss the mangled pieces into a lagoon because you lost.  So far I’m not sold on why this moment was so legendary.  And can we not compare a man who mashes 95 mile an hour baseballs into the stands 460 feet away to a guy in khakis flipping a stationary white nugget into a hole with a finely crafted club with the number of degrees of loft chiseled into the side of it?

Then the caddie, a man who doesn’t even play the game, I.e. an equipment manager of sorts, hurls a gardening instrument over his head.  Yes, I’ve done that too, it’s one of the rare dangers of playing golf.  No one ever told me I was being memorable, although I recall the word asshole coming out a few times.  Then, with rakes and clubs flying in the air, and people running for cover, these two epic bores shoulder bump each other in a “perfectly executed celebration.”   Yawn.  Pass the chips.  It would have been more memorable if they locked arms and made out with each other, then headed to a nearby car and groped one another in the back seat.  And where did all this choreographed nonsense take place?  Las Vegas? Nope.  The birthplace of golf?  Nada.    Palm Springs, California?  Zilcho. …..Connecticut.



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