As of July 8 my professional golf career is over. The PGA is out to protect the likes of Padraig Harrington, Phil Mickelson, and Vijay Singh.
My career as a golfer started when I took golf as a physical education course at Defiance College. Of all the classes, we went outdoors twice. Once, we followed the coach around as he shot a round of golf. The other time we went outside, we used Wiffle golf balls. Since then, I've been laying low, but the PGA caught on anyhow, and now I'm history, without ever having made any.
They say baseball is a simple game, for you only do three things: you throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball. Actually, that's wrong, because you also run like the devil around the bases. Golf is far simpler. You hit the ball. That's it. And it isn't moving when you hit it - it just lies there. And no running. I only have two speeds when comes to walking, slow, and a hesitation-pause, when I try to figure out whether I am coming or going. No matter. "Slow" is fast enough for golf.
And I was really good at hitting that Wiffle golf ball. I betcha I hit it more than 50% of the time. That's better than a .500 average: pure talent. No pro baseball player ever did so well - Ty Cobb's .408 was the highest ever.
So I've been planning that one of these days, I'd buy myself a Big Bertha, and a putter and use my John Daly physique to start playing pro golf.
And I was heartened even more this afternoon when I glanced up from the newspaper and saw a golf ball disappearing into the gallery. My wife was watching Tiger Wood's tournament on TV, and by gosh, it was Tiger Woods' chagrined face that showed up next on the screen. It'd be embarrassing if you gave someone a concussion, golfing in your own tournament, wouldn't it? But if President Ford can make bad shots, and Tiger Woods can make bad shots, there's surely room for me to pick up a few million a year in winnings.
But noooooooo! as Steve Martin used to say. It turns out that the top honchos in golf have just banned me, by sending out a list of prohibited drugs. They don't allow golfers to use anabolic steroids, narcotics, human growth hormones - or beta blockers.
I've been taking Atenolol for a long time. Before that, I was taking a Thiazide for blood pressure, but that's hard on the kidneys. My doctor explained it to me as, continue to take Thiazide and die of kidney disease, take nothing and die of cardiac disease, or take Atenolol and live. I checked with the drug store, and decided that as much as I complained about the cost of living, I had better pay it.
Incidently, Blondie, my trophy wife, is also banned. She takes Toprol, another beta-blocker.
Craig Parry claimed, a few years ago, that beta-blockers were used by some to improve your golf fame. He's a whiner. When Nick Price went on a beta-blocker for his hypertension, he found "Beta blockers might help on greens, but they hurt on the tee," so he switched to something else. From all the evidence, they're not banning a performance-enhancing medicine, unless you consider the fact that corpses tend not to play very good golf.
Jim Furyk comes from here, so we take pride in his success. Senseless pride, of course. Not only did he leave before I arrived, but his success cannot reasonably be explained by my god-given talent, no matter how I could hit a Wiffle golf ball. Jim seems to be the kind of guy you'd want for a next door neighbor, and invite to supper frequently.
"Doesn't he look great?" Blondie said. I looked up. Jim Furyk is tall, and gaunt, all elbows and angles, with a face that looks like Elmer Fudd after going on a starvation diet. He was wearing a big smile, and he was walking a jaunty walk, which goes a long way, but he'll never be mistaken for George Clooney. "Uh, yeah, I guess, in an Ichabod Crain sort of way, all flapping in the breeze," I responded.
Then I asked her, "If someone asked me what my most valued possession was, and I said 'my trophy wife', would you be insulted?" She laughed and said, "Of course not."
Chris Matthews of MSNBC took offense when Fred Dalton Thompson gave that answer to the AP, when they polled presidential contenders on their prized keepsakes. Rudy Gulliani said his grandfather's pocket watch. Barack Obama said a photograph. John McCain said a baseball signed by Ted Williams.
Your wife is a possession? Chris scoffed.
Yes, Mr. Matthews. A man's wife is his possession, and he is hers. That's the reason you can sue for alienation of affections. You give yourself to each other.
A trophy wife is not an ornament you display on your mantle. She is a second wife, a real winner, that you qualify by virtue of who you became when you were married to your first wife. She's not the kind of shallow and insipid 20-year-old beauty queen that the captain of the high school football squad can attract, but a strong woman as well, a woman of character and intelligence as well as beauty.
With his success at MSNBC, there's little doubt that Chris Matthews could attract a gold digger, should misfortune overcome him - but a trophy wife? He'll never really understand the phenomenon.
Chris, it's hard to establish a relationship with someone who is compatible. It can be hard to maintain that relationship, as well. No outsider will ever really understand the relationship between Bill and Hillary, between Fred and Jeri, between Blondie and myself, or any other marriage. It's pretty rare that those engaged in the relationship really understand everything that's going on.
Someone who interferes with an existing relationship is a vandal of the lowest order, and if dueling were still legal, I suspect Fred Thompson's second would soon be calling on Mr. Matthews. If Fred and Jeri feel like they own each other, it's pretty low-class of you to call them liars.
It seems that the biggest difference between Chris Matthews and Bill O'Reilly is that Bill-O knows he's lying.