Then there was Saturday, and I was working the early show for TNT, down on the range, asking people with no chance to win questions that didn't matter. I am the Tiger Woods of stupid questions. If they held stupid question tournaments, I would win all of them in a row. Later that day, Scott Dunlap is brilliant, Tiger is not. I stride the links manfully with them, sweating like the fat Irish kid with the coke-bottle glasses, at the spelling bee.
Every hole is uphill.
Bob May has no chance, because Tiger has had his bad day. Later that day, I am reminded of Alonzo Mourning, trying to shake Jeff Van Gundy off his leg. Like a horny Jack Russell, Bob has no intention of letting go before he's finished. For about the last three and a half hours of the show, I completely forgot I was at work. This was a drama so compelling, that the roars of the crowd, and the silence that followed, were equally deafening.