Sports is the only reality TV left on your television set.
I don’t know how to break it to you: “Real Housewives of New Jersey” is a scripted drama. So is “Survivor” … and it’s a relief, really — dialogue that bad has to come from some writer somewhere.
The only reality show I ever liked was “The Osbournes,” because Ozzy wasn’t faking — he really is that guy.
This Masters Sunday, had it been a drama in three acts, would have soared on birdies’ wings through the first act and into the second. There, just for a moment in the middle of the second act, the music would have darkened briefly. In the final act, we know, Young Jordan the Brave would have beaten back his own demons, slayed the Evil Dragon Danny against all odds, and saved Golf As We Know It for another week.
As we watched, the Masters played out a lot like that. Except Our Hero gasped for breath in his Under Armour, and Danny the Dogged emerged from Butler Cabin garbed in green. That’s reality, right there. Nobody could make that stuff up.