They say “problematic” is a trending word and concept in our culture of the now.
I think it’s supposed to call out how conflicted we feel about a good movie by a director who’s a dirtbag with women, or the public achievements of a civil rights leader who does his abusing in private.
Nobody much was rooting against Jordan Spieth on Sunday to charge back from nine strokes behind to win a second Masters, and nobody much was pulling for Patrick Reed to hold his ground and win his first. Reed, we get it, isn’t neat and nice — he’s nobody’s idea of an athlete; he has issues with Mom and Dad; he has a dodgy past as a college golfer.
I find problematic the writers in the national sporting press who can’t quite strike a tone on Reed and stick to it. The best ones see the story in the achievement and find ways to use “and” rather than “but.”
If we imagined Reed stepping onto the world’s next big stage — by which we mean, of course, the Bent Shaft Classic — we believe he would find his place here among the hacks and jokers, drama queens and accidental poets; here, among us 3GA humans, warts and gnarly facial hair and all.
The Grey Goatee Golf Association stumbles into its 13th season on Saturday and, yes, there’s some money in play, we drink some, and we give away a myrtlewood-base trophy with a busted shaft to an ath-a-lete we hope will be worthy.
We couldn’t let him play in our tournament, but one of us would probably buy a problematic Masters champion a beer.
Doughboy is a fine player. Just something about him makes him less endearing than others. Can’t quite explain it. It’s not his cocky confidence — you need that to play well as a pro in any sport.
I guess I like him now. Held his ground. Didn’t botch it like McElroy. Never took a 13 on one hole, either.
Wonder what he will serve at the next Masters dinner? Probably something that’s tough to chew.