I was not looking forward to the task. Clearing out your desk is not a pleasant chore. It’s the fall version of spring cleaning.
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In the interest of journalistic integrity, I’ll be frank: I am a person of dubious character. A deviant, so to speak. Of course, you say, he’s a golfer. I’ll also admit to enjoying a glass (or two) of wine on occasion. I’ll also admit I love to play video poker without budgetary concerns. I also drink milk straight from the container out of the refrigerator. Who’s perfect?
I have never been to a major golf championship. Something always came up. You know: money, timing, family or various fiascos.
This column may cause some problems. Especially for those of you with challenged memories. Like me. But in the end, I promise a heartwarming saga about those of us who love the game of golf.
To me, professional sports all-star games are pretty irrelevant. Defense goes out the window. Contact disappears. Smiles are more prevalent than hits. The NHL runs up goals at a record-setting pace; the NFL sets point records approaching 130 points combined; and the NBA combined scoring reaches in excess of 300 points. But there is one exception. No, not the MLB game, even though there’s something at stake there. It is, voila, the MLB’s home run contest that takes place the day before the All-Star Game. This competition fills the stadium, powers fan excitement and generates decent TV ratings. People love the long ball.
I really never thought a lot about golf demo days. You’ve seen them: a tent set up at the driving range, a gazillion clubs, manufacturer reps pitching the latest tech clubs and high prices.
Always write to the most common denominator. General interest, appeal to the masses. That’s what I was told when I started this writing gig.
Start a New Year’s column with a catch phrase from the early 1970s? Crazy, I admit.
Thanks, everyone. Just a brief follow-up to last month’s column on skin cancer. From it, I learned five things: