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False Idols

Has anyone seen my credibility?

The PGA Tour is a one-trick pony; a metaphor for the advice that all mutual fund managers caution investors against.  Putting all your eggs into a solitary basket carries a high level of risk, but if the basket was the Tiger Woods of ten years ago—hell, the Tiger Woods of ten months ago—then that same risk wouldn’t represent much of a gamble at all.

Investing in Tiger is now an exercise in diminishing returns.

If love means never having to say you’re sorry, then why does Tiger’s mechanical apology feel like the hollow, insincere sham that it is?

Not that I ever felt an emotion that can be characterized as love for Tiger.  Sure, I love his gargantuan tee shots.  I love the surgical accuracy of his irons.  I love the Rembrandt-like strokes of his short game.  But if watching Michael Jordan in his prime has taught me anything at all, it is that I can appreciate the man for his abilities without having to love the jackass that he truly is.

To be certain, society has, in its collective form, been particularly tough on Tiger.  This treatment is deserved:  Tiger sold us an image that we eagerly purchased without bothering to retain the receipt.  He is the roadside charlatan with false promises of a diet supplement that cures nothing.  We take his ‘indiscretions’ personally because our heroes aren’t meant to display the same frailty that we have.

Tiger is sorry, not out of sincerity, but because he got caught.  The changes that he has promised to make are reactionary to his misfortunes, not the self-initiated sort he has proffered.  The genuine desire to change must come from within, not as a consequence.

One day soon, Tiger will return to the sport that he has dominated.  He will win more money; regain more endorsements; hoist more trophies.  He will claim every golf record that is statistically measurable.

I will be a witness to these events because I love golf and love the application of the skills necessary to succeed at it.

I will witness these events as an interested observer, not as a supporter.

I cannot enjoy this future success as his fan.

He has robbed me of that, too.

Future unknown, straight ahead.

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Final Thoughts on ‘Balloon Boy’

Let’s consider, just for a moment, the state of the world had the ‘balloon boy’ hoax been successful:

The Lifetime Network produces a made for TV docudrama entitled “When Balloons Attack: The Heene Family Saga.” Ernie Reyes, Jr. plays the role of Falcon Heene.

Those dudes from Mythbusters attempt to recreate the same conditions with a runaway weather balloon in the Palm Desert. Special guest star Ernie Reyes, Jr. reprises his role of Falcon Heene and clings to the makeshift balloon.

The movies “Bubble Boy” and “The Boy in the Plastic Bubble” experience a sudden and dramatic increase in sales and rentals.

Thousands of newly documented cases of Globophobia grip the continental United States. Ernie Reyes, Jr. is forced back into an uncomfortable retirement.

Flash to the present day: The best part of the whole ‘balloon boy’ nonsense was that their six year old son spoiled the plot. Apparently those idiot parents didn’t know that children of that age are incapable of lying. Six year olds are like a bunch of George Washingtons walking around dropping a dime on everybody, including themselves.

Fortunately for the rest of us, we all got the Scooby Doo ending: “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids.”

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Greetings From Antarctica: An Open Letter To The International Olympic Committee

Dear IOC:

Your selection of Rio de Janeiro as host city for the 2016 Olympic Games has been received with much controversy; particularly with consideration to your apparent spurning of United States President Barack Obama in his widely publicized campaign to secure the games for Chicago.

The other finalists, Tokyo and Madrid, also made noble efforts to win the Olympics, however this letter wishes to draw attention to your ghastly oversight and the error of your ways: Antarctica, the real thunder from down under, rightfully deserves to host the Olympiad.

The politics of the selection process continues to be a point of frustration. European sites have a tremendous advantage as the largest chunk of voters. Some 40 constituents can pool their votes together to effectively shut out other hopefuls. Even Antarctica realizes that Europeans are cock-blocking the rest of us!

Madrid is a gorgeous city, but let’s be frank: the only reason Madrid made the final round of consideration is that Juan Antonio Samaranch, former IOC president of some 20 years and himself a Spaniard, made a passionate plea to his cronies to throw him a bone.

Mr. Samaranch even stooped to an embarrassing low by saying that at age 89 he didn’t have much time left. Hola Juan! Antarctica understands more than most the limitations of time. Thanks to global warming, our continent will be reduced to the size of the Guam in thirty years. That only leaves Antarctica a scant few years to host the Games.

Now that Rio has been named a host site, South America is no longer on that short list entitled “Continents NEVER To Have Hosted an Olympics.” Now, that dubious honor falls to Africa and Antarctica.

Dear members of the IOC, don’t give Africa an Olympic city before us! You would be sending the wrong message to the world by rewarding civil unrest, guerrila warfare and blood diamonds. You never read about Antarctica suppressing the right to vote or trading ivory tusks on the black market. Even the Swiss are envious of our neutrality!

And Rio is, well, Rio. Can the athletes even concentrate with all those scantily clad natives strutting around? Isn’t “The Thong Song” their national anthem down there? Fast forward to eight months past the 2016 Games in Rio and you’ll discover a stunning population spurt that will further stress the lower income bracket and increase the slash and burn agriculture that Brazil is so famous for!

In Antarctica, our thick parkas will allow contestants to focus entirely on the competition. Okay, so layers of clothing will probably prevent world records from falling. But if a sprinter crosses the finish line first against a gale force wind across the frozen tundra with a polar bear in hot pursuit, he definitely deserves the gold.

Now we in Antarctica understand your immediate concerns. We lack the venues and the infrastructure to host most, if not all, the events. It is raw and untamed country down here with primitive, make-shift facilities.

But that is the beauty of having the Games down here!

The spirit of the Games is to compete with sportsmanship and humility. A sudden blizzard or a glacial tremor will build instant camaraderie!

And consider the limited harmful environmental impact the Antarctic Games would create. The Olympic village could be constructed entirely of tents, ice blocks and igloos. It would be like a sub-degree Woodstock!

I know it’s probably more likely that we will host a Winter Olympics before the Summer edition, but hear us out: Our cool, pristine, pollution-free conditions are optimal for any athletic competition. Besides, who watches the Winter Games anyway (other than for Ladies Ice Skating)? Antarctica wants ratings!

Let’s recap:

Europe – Haters.

Madrid (paella and tapas) vs. Antarctica (whale sashimi and ice slushies) Edge – Antarctica

Rio – First rated R broadcast in Olympics history.

Africa (pestilence and coup attempts) vs. Antarctica (fresh water and penguins) Edge – Antarctica

We realize that the Summer Olympics lasts a whole two weeks, but that’s how long our summer are anyways.

In sum, please consider Antarctica as a future Summer Olympic host.


The handful of scientists and researchers that make up Antarctica’s population

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Filed under Olympics, Open Letters, Sports