All right, gentlemen, let’s get started. Hear ye, hear ye, the 2013 PGA Championship
having now been concluded, the fourth and final meeting of the The Golden Bear’s
Majors Record Preservation Society in the year 2013 will now come to
order. (Gavel slams on banquet table,
drinks spill, another round quickly ordered.)
Congratulations to all, good work in the PGA, and, of course, kudos to Oak
Hill. Mr. Woods never had a chance, his
protestations to the contrary. Mr. Hagen,
please call the roll.
Yes, Mr. Jones.
Gentlemen, please raise your hand when I call your name.
Mr.
Dufner? Oh, yes, please sit up
straight, this isn’t a children’s classroom.
Congratulations are in order, but please stop waving that trophy around,
everyone here has one. Almost everyone.
Sorry, Mr. Garcia.
 |
| The Wanamaker Winner |
Mr. Furyk?
Well played, no choke here. You just
couldn’t rev it up on Sunday, no shame there.
Good luck in future majors, and perhaps lightening up might be a good
idea as well. Oh, and ditch the bowling shoes,
please.
Mr. Scott?
Great year, mate. You contended
in three of the four majors, nearing fellow Aussie’s Norman Slam.
Sorry you are going to lose the putter, but it’s time to man up. See you in green at Augusta.
Mr. Day: You
might be the owner of the “Best Player in the Game Without a Major Win” title.
(Again, sorry Mr. Garcia.) But you should be able to shed that moniker
next year, or my middle name isn’t Tyre.
Messrs Stenson and Blixt, the Swedish Golf
Mafia. Don’t go around it, come on, hit
it over the blue lake please. Don’t you worry, child. You both got skicklighet.
Mr. McIlroy? Or
is it Mr. Wozniacki? Good job, seems
like you’re getting your game back. But
remember Samson the next time you want to get a haircut. And do say hello to Caroline for us.
Mr. Wanamaker?
Your trophy is brilliant, and it won’t get lost again, right Mr.
Dufner? No cab rides after cocktails
please, Jason.
 |
| Not Gonna Lose That Baby |
Mr. Mickelson?
Eh, gone already? Well, don’t
feel bad, Arnie never won one. Neither
did I.
Mr. Woods?
Are you still here?
Terrific. Tell us about your
tournament. What’s that, you played a solid
tournament, just missed a few putts or you would have been right in it? You finished tied for 40th. You were practically off the course by the
time the CBS coverage began. After the
first round, after shooting one over par 71, putting you comfortably behind 49
other golfers, you said you “played really well today.” ‘One loose nine iron” was the culprit. How about your year with respect to the majors
and your hunting the Bear? “I was close
in two of them, I was right there and certainly had a chance to win the Masters
and the British. The other two I just didn’t hit it good enough. Just the way
it goes.” (Actual quote! Delusional!) So, how many is it now, 18? No, not your total, the number of majors
played since you’ve won one of these. Oh
the irony. Five years now. Tempus fugit.
 |
| I'm An Eighteen |
Speaking of eighteen, the following is a parody of one
of Rock’s great golfers, Vincent Damon
Furnier, er, Alice Cooper, and one of his best songs, which, while an anthem of teen angst, way before its time, perfectly presages Woods’ struggles to break the most impressive of golf’s records.
Furnier, er, Alice Cooper, and one of his best songs, which, while an anthem of teen angst, way before its time, perfectly presages Woods’ struggles to break the most impressive of golf’s records.
I'M EIGHTEEN (Original Song)
Songwriter/Composer:
Michael O. Bruce
Glen Buxton
Alice Cooper
Dennis Dunaway
Neal A. Smith
Publishers
BMG Platinum Songs US
EMI Blackwood Music inc.
Ezra Music Corp.
Third Palm Music
IN NEED EIGHTEEN (Parody)
Lines form on my face and hands
Lines form don’t get up and down
I'm stuck in neutral without any wins
I'm a boy and Jack’s the man
I need eighteen and I sure know what I want
Eighteen, I just don't know if I can
Eighteen, I got to past the Bear
I gotta get out of this space,
I'll go gunnin' at Augusta next, woh yeah!
I've got a Tiger’s brain, miss my old man's heart
Took thirty-eight years to get this far
Don't always know what my swing is about
Feels like I'm living in the downswing of doubt
'Cause I need eighteen, I get confused ev'ry game
Eighteen, I just don't know how to play
Eighteen, I've got to make my way
Lines form on my face and my hands
Time squeezes from the left and right
I'm in the middle, the middle of life
I was a boy and now an old man
I'm eighteen and I like it
Yes I like it
Woh, I like it, love it, like it, love it
Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, woh!
I need eighteen I can’t take it
Yes I need it
Woh, I want it, need it, want it, need it
Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, woh!
And I need it
Yes eighteen
And I want it
Yes eighteen
Yes, I need it
Yes eighteen
Woh, I want it
I need eighteen
And I want it
Yes eighteen
Woh, I want it, need it, want it, need it, want it, need
it, want it
I need it
I need it
I need it
AMDGTM
© 2012-13 R.E. Kelly
