The Masters, still stands as my favorite sporting event to have taken in personally. First of all, covering a golf event as opposed to something enclosed within an arena or stadium is completely different. 18 holes and dozens of golfers to choose to follow makes it more like a sports buffet. If you don't like this group or this tee box, move on to the next. But the immaculate grounds of Augusta National, both on the course and off, make for a regal setting where you do feel like you're watching the sport of kings. I was priviledged to witness Arnold Palmer's final competitive round of the Masters a few years ago. Golf is one of the few remaining places in American society where elders are revered and applauded for their contributions.
One of the things that struck me first about Augusta National happened before I even got to the course itself. Not a weed or patch of crab grass was to be found in the walking areas. When they drop the gallery ropes to allow the masses to cut across a fairway, I was taken on how there seems to be an undulation to every foot of the course. I don't know that the golfers ever have a flat spot to hit from. Can't beat the food prices, such as pimento cheese and egg salad sandwiches for $1.50 and cups of beer in Masters plastic cups $2.00. And a great move this year by allowing ticket holders to bring children age 8-16 for free in an effort to create the next generation of golf fans.
Now that Boston Red Sox fans have forgiven Bill Buckner for his untimely error in 1986, we in Charlotte need to extend that same grace to some of our former sports foils. To David Carr for having bad hair, goofy gloves, and a penchant for under-throwing receivers. To Kerry Collins for partying his way out of a starting quarterback job after the Panthers wasted their first-ever draft pick on him. To Dom Capers for pushing to send two first round picks and millions of dollars to acquire Sean Gilbert from the Redskins. To George Shinn for moving the Hornets to New Orleans (optional). To our governing leaders who decided to pay for an uptown arena for a billionaire owner despite your vote of nay. To the Bobcats themselves for failing to win more than 33 games in any of their first four seasons. Time to forgive.
My wife Sandra and I are running a half-marathon this weekend. In case you are poor at math like I am, that is just a little over 13 miles. Just to give you an idea, our typical runs prior to training for this was three to four miles. I'm glad mp3 players were invented because that is most of what pulls me through. It went out just a mile into my 13-mile training run last weekend and I almost couldn't breathe. Electronics are destroying our brains.
We ran in our first half-marathon a few years ago and it took all I had to finish. At about the five-mile mark, I looked at Sandra and said "I'm going to run on up ahead; I'll look for you afterwards." I think she passed me at mile-nine and ended up waiting five minutes for me to cross the finish. Tortoise and the hare, with me playing both parts.
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