Almanac Poetry: Golf – 3
More than a dozen pretty women
claimed to have lit Tiger Woods’s wick
in five star rooms on silky linen
Daily rags filled with salacious pics
Let’s slay Tiger their headlines bayed
in our circle, that man no longer fits
Corporate sponsors said they felt betrayed
took back their money, to do what’s right
– Tag Heur, Gillette, and Gatorade
Poor old Tiger had some worrisome nights
but each dawn, he jogged on, in loyal Nikes
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Tiger – the breaking of him was the making of him. Life humbles us all in the end.
Tiger!
On matters golf, did anyone see how the Universe spoke to test Wyndham Clark at The Players?
Excellent.
Poor old Tiger!
JTH – Wyndham Clark has a Patrick Reedesque habit of mashing/swishing/clearing the grass behind his ball when its buried in the long lush US rough.
He says it’s an entirely unintended consequence of his (many) practice swing.
US commentator Geoff Shackleford now refers to it as “lieing”.
The Golf Gods noticed.
Another golf poetry gem. Didn’t pick up on the Clark thing. Wasn’t watching, just following the scores.