In the court of public opinion, Patrick Reed is like a case thrown out by a judge who never sees the evidence because there isn’t any.
He’s like not wearing a mask in a pandemic because it diminishes his freedom, never mind that it might save lives — an error, unforced and unnecessary, and costly, most of all to himself.
He didn’t seem to gain any advantage by his embedded-ball thing on the 10th hole Saturday, and he won the tournament by five strokes. Did he cheat? Has he ever? Does he care? Not much.
He’s our favorite dickhead, in the absence of much competition on the PGA Tour. Tiger Woods is acting like a good guy, all smiling and peaceful. DeChambeau, our boy Bryson, is a five-star flake who annoys us when he acts like the smartest guy in the room because he is and it’s working for him.
Reed and his “team” are alone at the top of the pile, where rules written and not seem not to apply. Nobody hates him, exactly, but what the fuck?
He’s got a Green Jacket, and he should rightfully be among the favorites to hang up another one this April. We’ll be watching him, waiting on the next unforced error.