The following is all a figment of this author's imagination, but how cool would it be to hear......
Hi. My name is Jordan Spieth. If you're a golf fan, you know who I am.
Not long ago, much was made regarding my "meltdown" on the final nine holes of this year's Masters Tournament. I had it, and then I didn't have it. A bad shot here and there, plus butchering the 12th hole for a quadruple bogie pretty much sums it up.
Here's a little inside info. Yes, I did mention to my caddie, Micheal Greller, that we appeared to be collapsing. But few people know Mike looked at me and said, "Hey, what do you mean WE? I give you the best advice I can, but you're the guy that has to hit the shots. It's hardly my fault you went into duffer mode for a half hour or so". He was right, of course.
People think I was somehow crushed by not only blowing this tournament, but also having to put the green jacket on Danny Willett when it was all over. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I did the best I could, but came up short. It happens.
Look at it this way.
I'm only 22 years old and already a millionaire several times over. I get to travel the world playing on the finest courses while my sponsors pick up the tab for air fare, fancy hotel accommodations, wardrobe, meals, night-life -- the works. And make no mistake, there's no shortage of sponsors, or even potential ones, that want a piece of MY action.
Yes, the Masters could have turned out better, but I'm hardly losing any sleep over it. All the gibberish of past ghosts and goblins haunting Augusta National is nothing more than just that -- gibberish. I could care less about what happened to the likes of Arnold Palmer, Greg Norman, and others on that course in the past. And some former CEO of the course blew his brains out on the grounds long before I was born? Too bad, but that was HIS problem.
At the end of the tournament I earned almost $900,000. After I gave Michael his 10% caddie fee and paid taxes, it's still around a half million bucks for four days work. Bet you wish you had a job like that.
It never ceases to amaze me how important the "rankings" are to so many people. Everywhere you look, it's a numbers game. There's the FedEx Cup standings, earnings to date, and stats from hell when it comes to the game itself. Percentage of fairways hit. Sand saves. Greens in regulation. Number of one or two putts per round, and a bazillion others.
Personally, I don't care about all that junk. The whole point is to take fewer strokes than the other guys over 72 holes worth of play. If you can do that -- you win. If not -- you don't. Pretty simple.
Winning tournaments is great and I've been able to do that here and there -- including a couple majors. But it's not the end of the world -- at least not mine -- when another player or players out-duels me in any given tournament -- even the Masters. They have their traditions, and that's fine. But it's still just a golf tournament. You win some -- you come up short in most others. Such is nature of the game. The other guys are pretty good too, ya know.
What drives me crazy is the obsession over who's #1? The media and fans need such a concept far more than I do. True, I was #1 for a while, but it didn't really matter. Also true is other players seem to have put great stock in that "position" over the years. I can only surmise they viewed it as being some sort of royalty. Good for them, if that's what yanks their crank. But in my opinion, being #1 and a few bucks will get you the same burger and fries at a drive-through fast food joint.
I'm just a Texas boy that turned out to be a pretty good golfer at a pretty young age. I might win a whole slew of tournaments in the future, including several more majors -- or maybe not. I'll just keep plugging away for a few more years and see what happens.
First place and a trophy is great, but there's a whole lot of guys out here who make quite a handsome living just making cuts more often than not. Did I mention I pocketed over $500,000 at Augusta National? Call that a choke if you will, but I'm good with that. And who knows? A few more outings like that, plus cashing in on lucrative endorsements here and there -- and I might retire when I'm 30. Who says a golfer has to keep playing until he can't compete any more and then join the Senior Circuit? It might just be I've got other things in mind to do.
Someday, if the right woman comes along, maybe I'll want to get married and have kids. For now -- trust me -- I'm not exactly hurting for dates if I choose to accept them. Turns out, there's some mighty pretty girls out there that follow the tour -- or me. You'll notice not much is mentioned about my love life. I've been mostly wrapped up in golf, but remember I'm 22. As such, I'd be lying if I said the potential pleasures of the fairer sex don't occasionally cross my mind.
But for now, it's on to the next tournament I decide to play. Maybe I win, maybe I don't. Another six-figure paycheck would be nice.
The Masters is old news and life goes on. Let Augusta National live with their ghosts and goblins from the past. And let others be obsessed with their almighty numbers.
So far, life has been good indeed.
Beats handing out those burgers and fries mentioned above.....