I'm not a golf guy. The only thing less appealing to me than standing in a field and baking in the sun all weekend is watching other people bake on TV. Besides, there's something vaguely disturbing about a sport in which fans applaud missed shots.
"Whoo-hoo! His degree of failure is marginally less than the other guy's!"
Here's how I watch golf. For majors, I'll skim the headlines on Thursday and Friday. Maybe. Saturday night, I'll check the leader board. If Tiger or a renowned choker is in the mix, on Sunday morning I'll try to catch the back nine. By about the 14th hole my interest will really flag, and I'll start browsing the phone book in order to help pass the time. As I keep one eye on the TV, here's my thought process:
Tiger, not Tiger, not Tiger, not Tiger, choker, not Tiger, Tiger, Tiger's wife, what's the hotter trait—Swedish, twin, or au pair?—not Tiger, not Tiger, not Tiger, choker choked right on schedule, Tiger, Tiger won.Au pair. Definitely au pair.