Jordan Spieth is rich, so is his caddy (appreciably less, but not bad for a looper), and the world now moves on to the Presidents Cup, which is not the Ryder Cup but has a little more zing this time because Jason Day and Rory McIlroy will be playing for the other guys.
Not much else going on, unless you think golf can exist outside the major tours … well, hells yes it can.
For devotees of the Grey Goatee Golf Association (and they are legion), this is the season of discontent, of restlessness and ennui, of no tournaments for several months, long months, until the 3GA springs back to action (gently, as befitting our demographic) in April, in the springtime, where all things are possible and few are realized, but we’re playing golf in the El Nino sunshine, golf, in the sunshine, which ought to scare us but somehow doesn’t, because we’re playing golf in the sunshine with our friends and other old guys, playing golf, the all-absorbing damnedest damn game.
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