The Hundred Day Countdown

I wouldn’t consider myself the most technology savvy person to walk the face of the earth, but I do know enough about computers to get by.  For example, I know how to check my email, use Paint, and apparently, know enough to be able to add a rather stylish countdown timer to my Google Desktop.  This very countdown is the driving force behind this post – as it is set right now, it’s showing that tomorrow marks 100 days until BYU football.  Hallelujah.

Taking a step back, however, let’s glance at football in general.  Has there been a greater thing ever invented since this?  And speaking of that, why do we always use bread as a comparison?  Don’t get me wrong, I love sandwiches as my college student diet consisted of about 50-75 per week, but really…In any case, the sport of football reigns king over all others, most specifically baseball, which I would like to briefly address.

Top 5 Reasons Football Thoroughly Dominates Baseball

1)      Length of season.  162 games + postseason.  Do they really need THAT many games to determine who’s good?  I love football, but I can’t imagine watching my team play at least 162 times in one year.  It’s too much of a good thing, the only difference being, in baseball, it’s too much of a terrible thing.

2)      Rivalry.  Speaking of too many games, when you play your rival 20 times in one season, it kinda loses its luster.  Argue all you want, Red Sox/Yankees fans, but my guess is you’d be a little more nervous if 365 days worth of bragging rights hinged on 60 minutes of game time. 

3)      Uniforms of managers.  This is my personal favorite.  Who decided that old, overweight men acting as managers should be clad in the same tight pants that their younger, more athletic counterparts are wearing?  Imagine, Stan Van Gundy sitting on Orlando’s bench wearing shorts and a jersey, or better yet, imagine Charlie Weis suiting up in pads and a helmet (for the first time since high school) as he waddles around Notre Dame’s sideline.

4)      The Sunflower Seed Effect.  If you can continually ram copious amounts of sunflower seeds into your mouth and skillfully crack the shell to remove the seed, all while playing your sport, chances are something is terribly wrong.  It’s like people who are doing homework problems while sitting back on reclining stationary bikes at the gym – that’s great, but you’re probably not burning too many calories.  To prove my point, next time you’re playing football, try and be effective with a cheek-full of seeds (and do it without requiring use of the Heimlich maneuver).

5)      Because it’s football.  Why is baseball severely inferior to football?  That’s just it – because it’s football.  Hitting, touchdowning, tailgating, fall weathering, fight song singing, Ute hating, etc.  That’s what makes America great.  Unfortunately for the next 100 days, I’ll be slammed with nothing but baseball highlights (holy crap, it’s ANOTHER 6-4-3 double play…) delivered by Jon Kruk looking as unqualified as ever.  Only 100 days…only 100 days…

A follow-up to the previous post: A Gallery of Swings brought to you by Diego's Restaurant and Phil's wedding on June 12.  May I add that each of us more or less drilled it right down the middle of the fairway.

Jon  Erik With a K

 Nate  Yours Truly

 Jess(ff) (S)Haddow Bruce

 G. Phil

Sub-par Is What We Aim For

Taking golf lessons as a younger kid was a blast.  In fact, the closest I’ve ever gotten to a hole-in-one was the second hole of golf I ever played.  Davis Park, #2.  It’s a par 3, and could probably be hit to now with a Fisher Price set, but back in the day, it required all the strength my 8-year old body could muster, along with a well-struck shot with my driver.  I planted the ball within 6 inches of the cup…and in all the holes of golf I’ve played since then, that’s as close as I’ve got.  Such is the life of a golfer.

In any case, the hardest part about learning the game of golf as a kid actually had nothing to do with swinging the club.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the scoring rules.  The idea of the elusive par never hit home with me, and I place full blame upon society and the English language.

Take the phrase, “sub-par”.  In my experience, it’s only been when someone was nicely trying to say that something was terrible, abhorrent, or loathsome, that they have used the phrase “sub-par”.  Naturally, one would try to avoid putting those same labels on their golf game.  Scoring for me was a nightmare: between the idea that lower scores were better and sub-par was the goal, how in the world was I ever supposed to reconcile that in my 8-year old brain?  All my brain power was already being used up my multiplication tables and states and caps.

Sub-par.  Don’t get me wrong but…isn’t that what we’re all shooting for?  Isn’t this why 5-putting a par 3 is frowned upon in most circles of golfers?  Isn’t that why we all step up and try and drill the ball 300 yards down the fairway, which usually leads to us hitting the ball 300 yards to the fairway two holes to the right?  And in spite of the fact that we 5-putt and slice it like a pizza cutter, we still keep showing up to the course.  It’s a mystery as to why this is the case, and it’s probably an unsolvable one at that.

Take for example, skydiving.  Assuming you didn’t die if you slammed into the ground at terminal velocity, you would doubtfully continue to skydive on a frequent basis if you could never get your chute to open.  But yet, with golf, each time we slam into the proverbial ground at 180 mph, we keep coming back, like at some point after hundreds of jumps, we’re gonna finally get that confounded chute to open up.  

And still, there we are.  Teeing it up again like this is going to be the breakthrough round.  I may not be the best golfer in the world, but here’s something I take comfort in.  Take a quick gander at this video classic.  Thanks, Chuck, for making us all feel a little bit better about our golf games.  Make sure the volume is up to hear the thud.

So, here’s the thing.  As I’ve gotten older and played more holes of golf, I’ve finally realized two things: 1) I no longer need to pull out my driver to blast it 120 yards on #2 at Davis Park and 2) if sub-par really is used to describe bad things, I’m going to start feeling a whole lot better about my scorecard.