Great Britain's doing very well in the sports world these days. Even descendants in some of their former colonial territories are making news. I'll get back to that.
The biggest sporting spectacular of them all -- the Olympic games -- will start in a few days in London. Heathrow airport has seen thousands of planes land lately, bringing athletes, coaches, support crews, and fans from all over the world. Money will flow like water in jolly old England, as will umpteen million pints in pubs.
In what seems to be perfect timing, Bradley Wiggins, the newly crowned champion of the Tour de France, should be arriving home shortly as well. Not only is Wiggins the first Briton to win the Tour, but his teammate and countryman Christopher Froome placed second. Just about the time that party dies down, the Olympics will fire up. Sports are bloody well peachy in England right about now.
No, they still can't seem to get a native son to win their beloved Wimbledon tennis championship. The trifecta of Roger Federer (Swiss), Novak Djokovic (Czech) and that pesky Spaniard Rafael Nadal appear to have a three-headed monopoly on that tournament. Scotsman Andy Murray just can't seem to get over the hump. Alas.
The British Open just concluded and, while a Brit didn't win it, a few hand-me-down colonials sure drew a lot of attention. American Tiger Woods self-destructed in the final round to the tune of a 73. He'll likely be mumbling on his way back to the New World. That paled in comparison to Adam Scott, an Aussie. Scott was cruising along with a comfortable lead and it appeared there was no way he could lose the tournament. But he did. In the ultimate melt-down, he bogeyed the last 4 holes. He's in for a very long plane ride returning to the outback.
From seemingly out of nowhere, South African Ernie Els made a few birdies on the back nine and, presto, the Big Easy is the new champ.
Els is one of those rare guys that everybody likes. It's almost impossible not to. Easy-going, friendly to one and all, soft-spoken, and humble, Els is not only the consummate professional, but a truly all-around good guy. A nicer and more deserving man could not have won the tournament.
So everybody get naked and -- no -- that's not quite right. Sorry. Hats off to Great Britain and it's former colonies. Turn out the lights at Royal Lytham and St. Anne's, party hearty with Wiggins and Froome, and fire up the Olympic torch. Let the games begin. Besides, I really, REALLY don't want to see the Queen naked. Brrr.
Yes, things are jolly good across the pond these days.
Cheerio and ta-ta.
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