Prom night was the night for seniors. When my rite-of-passage came oh-so-many-years-ago...I was primed, and ready for action...heh-heh.
Yep, I was gonna woo the little lady right off her feet. Starting with the corsage, leading into a romantic dinner at Bern's Steak House, sweeping her off her feet at The Dance, then capping the night off in my car doing the tongue cha-cha.
Oh...my heart aches at how it really turned out. Everything went as planned...except for the car part. We got out of the car and (I remember this vividly) she nearly knocked me down getting to the door. She opened her screen door...turned around and said..."thanks for a great evening"...gave me a peck on the cheek, and...no sooner did her lips peel off my cheek...wham...the screen door grazed past me with a resounding clanggg.
I was dissed.
But, being a high testosteron-ed teenager...I eventually got over it.
Tiger Woods...aka...golf's Golden Child is being used as the newly-born Fed Ex Cup's fodder. all the media has been talking about since the start of this soon-to-fail marketing folly, is how The Golden Child is going to "grace us with his presence for each-and-every-one of these grand events"...capped-off with its $10 million dollar prize.
BTW: How ironic is it that Barclay's and Deutsche Bank are financing the first two events? I'm sure the suits at these firms are wondering how they are going to pay for these "shows" after the sub-prime blow-up. "Uh, Larry...got any change? we're pulling it in for the Fed ex cause...Geez, no Frank...I just had to re-up with my no-interest loan to an 8% jumbo fixed...I just don't know what I'm going to do...hey, that ledge looks awfully tempting..."
...but I digress.
So, here's Woods, all primed..winning the Firestone, then the major..the PGA Championship...all in 100 degree heat, creating an orgasm with the Fed Ex marketing guys and the media. Do you think they blink? "Hey Tiger...are ya too hot? can we get you some Kool-Aide?" No, Tiger's their date, and they're riding him to the Fed Ex prom. Hey Tiger...here's your corsage...here's your super-fine dinner.
Friday, Tiger decided to skip the dance...The Barclay's event. The first in the PGA's grand plan of resurrecting a TV-tired sport. Saying his body was "spent".
...hear that sound?...it's the marketing geniuses Mont Blanc's falling on the floor.
Tiger isn't spent..he's Superman. Tiger is providing us with two bits of information here that transcend him. One, he is telling us that a major is still more important than this homogenized gimmicky Cup deal...and two, that he is the reason that golf is surviving. No Cup is going to change that perception.
Tiger just shut dissed-'em.
Thanks for reading. Keep it in the short-grass,