KG’s Blog Post #99 – 4/11/11 3:48am (Masters, etc.)

It’s only 3am and I could be watching TV, but I’ve decided to write some more Green tongue. I watch a lot of Fox news, so it is must be clearly noted they are the best cable channel out there. However, their sports people should all be ship-canned. They quickly mentioned the kid who won, and then went on a kiss ass piece on Rigger Foods finishing 4th and how he played his best last round ever and his lowest front ever. Pitiful display of journalism. I believe that Charl Schwartzel may be the only golfer ever to finish with 4 birdies and win the Masters. How on planet earth do you not give this kid the credit? I think it was my karma on South Africa, as I just mentioned them in my last piece.  Speaking of that, no one to date has picked off the correct “Lies” answers yet!

I played today and I was pleased with my swings on the range, but I was disgusted with what I brought to the course. I’m paying the price now as the leg is on high, but at least it’s not on cry mode. I must get back out and just learn to trust and accept what I have. We golfers all know how freaking hard that is though. I was keenly aware of the tension Peter mentioned, but could not calm the muscles down.

I’m not sending this yet because by 5am I will really say something stupid. I will say that South Africa-Ireland-Japan-USA are all locations of the drain O. I say straight flat tax needs to be created. My putting is currently has pathetic as my writing. My head is moving too fast and I know it but can’t stop it. How come we don’t know the name of the dope who invented this game? He should be hung.

Some of you know that I’ve had to stop drinking because it sets the nerves off in the leg, but it’s sad that my head pounds constantly and I didn’t even have fun earlier. During this stretch of nonstop sleep, I have purchased the following on info crap from TV & Internet: new green pots – vitamins by beach body – video hip hop dance on losing weight – power driver by moment us – sex toys. Now the good news is I don’t remember doing any of it, so when the packages arrived it was like Xmas. I’ve lost a leg and now what brain I had left. What’s next?

One Response to “KG’s Blog Post #99 – 4/11/11 3:48am (Masters, etc.)”

  1. Montana Mike says:

    I have been to the Masters Golf Tournament three times now. How quickly time flies!

    In 1987, where I watched Roger Maltbie shoot 66 in the 2nd round, 1998, just a short 13 years ago, with Butch Sheehan, after Butch picked a winning “Pick the Pro’s” Football Ticket in Reno, where I put up the $5, (sober we were, of course not!) by the time we were done with football Sunday, Butch and I “won” somewhere near $30,000 off that $5 dollar bet (and the Masters was on the agenda), and again, now, in 2011. Times change!

    While the Masters is still the Masters, this is NOT the same event I first attended.

    When I followed Roger Maltbie in 1987, there was barely anyone allowed inside the gates at the Masters. Maybe 6 people followed Roger Maltbie, when Roger was shooting 66 – when Roger came off #18 in 1987, no one was around to speak of.

    Roger missed winning the 1987 Masters by one shot that year, shooting a last round 74, finishing one behind Larry Mize, Seve, and Greg Norman – the year of the “chip in” by Mize to defeat Norman in a playoff.

    That 1987 size gallery is impossible, in today’s corporate golf world!

    Roger Maltbie and I “grew up” competing against each other at junior golf. Times Change!
    Here is a glimpse of my era of PGA Professional, versus today’s corporate era.

    I have been told by more than one person, I was born 125 years too late for who I am, my lifestyle – Roger may have been too –

    A Green Jacket For Roger Maltbie? You Have To Hope So
    April 12, 1987 |By Bob Verdi, Chicago Tribune.
    If justice and logic are served, our man won`t make it, of course.

    Rooting for Roger shall prove a thankless task come Sunday evening. somebody famous or handsome will win the 51st Masters, or somebody famous and handsome, or somebody famous and handsome and incorporated.
    Greg Norman, the world`s best golfer now, will shoot another 66, and defending champion Jack Nicklaus, the world`s best golfer ever, will be there to hold his coat. Or Spain`s debonair Seve Ballesteros will be back in the trophy room, thanking Augusta National for being bery, bery good to him. Or Bernhard Langer will pack another green jacket in his Mercedes. Or Curtis Strange, who went splash here two years ago, will stay dry. Or Ben Crenshaw, the cuddly one, will have `em all misty-eyed from joy again.
    And where will that leave our man Roger? Roger Maltbie? Probably across the street in some tavern, fixing to leave his paycheck behind, as he did in . . . well, what year was that?

    “Heck,“ our man was saying, “if I`m dumb enough to lose a piece of paper worth $40,000 in a bar, you think I can remember what year it was?“
    It was 1975, after Maltbie captured the Pleasant Valley Classic in Sutton, Mass. He adjourned to the nearest watering hole for a celebration. The rest, he remembers, sort of.
    “I woke up the next morning and sat up thinking, `Lord, please don`t let this be me inside this headache,` “ our man said. “My pants were on the floor. I reached inside them. The pockets were wet and cold and empty. No check. I reached inside my wallet. No check. I reached inside my shirt. No check. I called the bar. `Say, you didn`t happen to find a $40,000 check last night when you were sweeping up, did you?` They didn`t. I called up the tournament and asked if they could send another one. They did. Meanwhile, somebody found the check I lost in the bar in the sawdust. I told them to keep it as a souvenir. I wondered, What was I doing in the sawdust?“

    Times change, sometimes, not for the better –

    A better question. What is Roger Maltbie doing tied for the lead after three rounds of the Masters?

    In the litany of elegant and revered tournament champions–Hogan, Snead, Nelson, Palmer, Nicklaus–Maltbie doesn`t fit.

    If he should somehow triumph, the green jacket won`t fit, either, unless it`s a Large.

    Even then, our man might look like an eggplant, and a smoking eggplant, at that. Roger Maltbie puffs Marlboros even during practice swings, as if he`s smoking to keep from eating and drinking, which he isn`t.

    He`s got the nicest front porch this side of Augusta National`s clubhouse, and just one glance at him, with his Michelob visor and Michelob bag, makes you thirsty. He`s 35, with a face going on 50. It`s been a hard life, some of it spent in a garbage receptacle.

    “No comment about that,“ Maltbie whispered, chuckling.

    That was the Pensacola Open story of 1984.

    He played there, then went to a refreshment stand, and before the evening was done, Roger had fallen into a trash can so flush and firm that he couldn`t extricate himself.

    They grew so fond of our man in said establishment that they bronzed the thing.

    It`s the Roger Maltbie Memorial Trash Can.

    He`s one of us, this guy.

    He can do it all, and the last few days he`s been playing some golf, too. If you don`t pull for a free spirit who birdies the ninth hole after driving the ball into the first fairway, as Maltbie did Saturday, you aren`t breathing. He`s good people, and his triumph would be for common man, and over hard knocks.

    `If you can believe it, I actually went through a stage where I wasn`t having fun out here,“ Maltbie said after Saturday`s 2-under-par 70 placed him in a deadlock with Crenshaw and a stroke up on an impressive cast of pursuers.

    “Every round of golf for me was a crusade, a war. In 1978, I won $12,000 out here.

    In 1979, a crummy $9,700.

    Those were the worst years.

    I was never ungrateful to be playing golf for a living, but it just wasn`t much of a living.

    One day, I shot a 92 in a tournament.

    A 92. And one day soon after that, I went to a shrink. He thought I`d forgotten how to have fun out here. I said, `You know who you`re talking to?`

    But he was right. He told me to act just like I felt when I first got out on tour, all excited and laughing. Since then, I began to play better.“

    Maltbie won two tournaments a couple of seasons ago, including the prestigious World Series of Golf, and he cashed $213,206 worth of chips last year–not bad.

    But until the putts started dropping again, he was one suffering Californian.

    His luck had pretty well dried up since 1976, when he flubbed a shot at the Memorial, only to watch the ball ricochet off a stake and onto the green. He putted out and beat Hale Irwin.

    “They gave me the stake to take home,“ Maltbie said. “I lost that, too.“

    One summer before, while achieving his first of five PGA Tour conquests, at the Quad Cities Open, he met Donna, of Rock Island, Ill., and she became his wife.

    She just gave birth to their first child, Spencer Davis.

    Roger was introduced to Donna by a Jack Pulford, who runs a place in Moline, The Greenbrier.

    “It`s a bar, naturally,“ said Maltbie.

    “Jack`s the guy who was in that Golf Digest foursome to determine the world`s worst player a couple years ago. He had a lock until he only took a 15 on the last hole while the guy who won took a 28. Jack choked. I don`t know how he missed that trophy. I`ve played with him, and he`s brutal. Like giving a gun to a baby, giving him a golf club.“

    Maltbie and his mustache will become famous if he posts the lowest number by Sunday nightfall, and he knows it.

    In his first major, the PGA Championship a dozen years ago, he was paired with Nicklaus and was so intimidated that he schlepped his first drive 80 yards into a ditch “where no professional golfer ever has put it before or since.“

    Now, our man is in position to win a Masters, albeit the position of an underdog.

    “I`ve been there before, you know,“ he said.

    “This is the granddaddy, but my clubs don`t know I`m not supposed to win. I`ll sleep tonight. I`m positive of that. Because I`m positive I`ll have a couple cocktails. I have the ability to win. And if I do, I`ll have a helluva party somewhere. That`s what I`m famous for, right?“
    From the trash basket to the green jacket? Rooting for Roger is a gimme. The year 1987

    Times Change – What a long strange trip it has been – back to poker now!

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