364 days ago. The Country Club, Boston.
Hell's bells, let's rewind even further back, like, 29 events ago. Rickie (Fowler) sat darn near atop the golf World. Number 4 in the World to be exact.
White flame hot. More commercial endorsements than Mahomes and Mamoa combined.
If the shirt was orange, EVERYONE knew it was hey hey Rickie you golf so fine, hey Rickie, hey Rickie!
In the background I hear "And then it happened" being sung by whoever sung it.
29 tour events. NO victories, not even a single Top Ten finish.
Gloom, dispair, agony on he, if it tweren't for bad luck he'd have no luck at all, gloom dispair agony on he.
Hey Rickie? Yain't so fine. Orangeya gonna throw a club? Tell a fan, or your caddy to piss off? Camouflage your way and sidestep the media?
364 days ago. The Country Club, Boston. Rickie was the first alternate for The US Open. Never called his name. Never even got to hit a stroke that counted.
Rickie, flip 'em off as you exit the lot, I probably would!
Not Rickie. He was his always kind, polite self.
"I enjoyed being around and playing with the guys, getting some good work in on the range."
He worked, and worked s'more. Brought his old swing coach back.
Damnit darnit, once again I hear whoever it is that sings it singing "And then it happened"...
Rickie went out yesterday, shot a 62, THE lowest round in the history of the 123 years of The US Open! (In fairness, so did Xander Schauffele.)
Hey Rickie, back golfing so fine, hey Rickie, hey hey hey Rickie!"
By golly if Rickie can do it, so can I! I'll get my old swing coach (Victor you ain't got a swing coach)...I'll get one. I'll go home, home on the range, work, sweat.
I ain't been doin' no cussin', swearin', I been nice, ain't tossin' no clubs!
I'll massacre that one dude that takes a dollar from me every time we play... In fact, I'll save up and buy me one a them fancy new Lincoln Navigators I been wantin'!
I can just hear em on the back deck of our coursea cheerin' "Hey Vick'y you're so fine, hey Vick'y you golf so fine!"
Victor.
Victor.
VICTOR! Wake up, you're dreaming.
Huh? Wha? (gets up, walks to the window, looks out). HEY! That's still my crappy old 2006 Caddy, where's my new Navigator?)
Sit down Victor, we need to talk.
Yeah?
First, nuttin personal, but no matta how much time you spend 'home home on the range' with your golf swing, ain't gonna happen.
Ya mean I ain't gonna get rich taking all of those Georges from that one guy?
No. In fact, ya better transfer a hundred from savings to checking of your check to The KCStar is gonna bounce into the rough, so to speak.
Oh. Then what's the point to all this then? I've been nice too.
Victor, yes, yes you have. Unfortunately there are cameras allover this golf course scanning the front, back, range yada.
Yeah...so?
Remember two weeks ago on 15 you shanked one and right after you threw your club? (And you threw it farther than the goofball actually went.) Remember?
Victor? You're avoiding the media. Be more line Rickie.
OK!! (Darnit)
The point is, be the same. Nice. Always. Then, MAYBE good things will happen, and even if you don't break the course record, won't it make life more enjoyable?
Victor? Where you going?
I'm going to break a $5 so I can pay that asshat when he whoops me today.
Ooops, sorry, slipped!
Go Rickie, you golf so fine and are always kind, go Rickie!
Love, Victurd
No comments:
Post a Comment