Holy guacamole.....
The division was perceived to be between The FedEx Cup folks and The Arabian Oil Can folks (or whatever that's called.)
Yes, Woods to be a center of attention, but not that woods.
A weather delay happened at The Masters. Strong winds, rain, caused officials to sound air horns, signaling suspended play, "seek shelter" or, "Marky, I'm gonna whip your little ass." (*more about that.)
*Band camp, years ago, living in our neighborhood were three of my son's wonderful, VERY active little buddies (9-ish, 10-ish, 6-ish.) I know not details, but they lived with their grandparents, 6 or so houses up the block. Good, good kids, but you could tell, 'wearing' on Grandma, Grandpa. I truly admired them for stepping up, showering their love. In bad weather, Grandpa didn't mess around, calling out all three names for the kids to "Get home NOW!" The two oldest raced home, the youngest, Marky, ignored. If the weather was bad enough he might get hurt, Grandpa would again emerge, and at a volume loud enough to hear from Apco to Sutherlands, he'd bellow "MARKY, I'M GONNA WHIP YOUR LITTLE ASS!" Then, Marky would comply.
Where was I? Oh yeah, air horn at the Masters. As it sounded, some 15,000 spectators checked the radar on their Accuweather app to ascertain the severity (ie, just passing through, or, 'Marky I'm gonna whip your little ass' bad.) Deemed, "there's a clearing coming," they stayed. Fans are ardent like that, yeah they are.
"All clear, play ball"(golf)
Not real long after that, the sky again threatened... Some fifty folk sitting in green Master's lawn chairs by the 17th teebox, hear an excruciatingly LOUD 'CRACKING NOISE', looked up, looked behind, eyeballs enlarged, the fifty (thankfully) scurried out of the way of THREE HUGE PINE TREES (65 FEET TALL!) that were crashing down. Miraculously, no one was hurt. Fortunately, as two pines started to fall, a third pine held them up for a few seconds until it could no longer and all three fell. That very slight delay literally saved lives.
Immediately after, the air horn sounded ('Marky bad'), play was stopped. Chairs (empty) were crushed. One lady saw another lady standing BETWEEN the fallen trees, and a man was seen (safely) crawling out from under fallen pine branches. Certain Good Friday, Master irony.
In good ole Augusta CYA language on the back of the badges all patrons ('Patron' is Augusta for spectator) it's written (and I paraphrase):
By entering onto the grounds of ANI, Holder agrees to assume all risk and danger arising from attendance, including risks associated with COVID-19, eyeballs put-out by Pro V1's, injuries from a misguided haymaker from either a LIV or PGA player, found classified documents, unwelcome advances from porn stars, and droppings from a partridge in a pine tree. Holder releases and holds harmless ANI, its affiliates, directors, officers, employees, volunteers, agents and all Tournament officials and participants, from any claims of liability, including claims based on their alleged negligence, arising from the Agreement or Holder’s attendance at the Tournament, all as set forth in the Agreement.
Round three hopefully happens today.
By happenstance, I work at a golf course. Only once have I had to blow the air horn. I truly wondered, what if they ignored and got hurt? ("It's ok Vic, I've got graphite shafts!")
From now on, after I sound the air horn I'm gonna holler "Marky, I'll whip your little ass" so you'll know how severe it is.
By Henry Gibson Forward by Euell Gibbons
Love, Victurd
No comments:
Post a Comment