Friday, April 18, 2014

Bubba Watson

I watched The Masters off and on last Sunday for five hours.

Just a couple of years ago I wouldn't be caught dead watching golf. Never even consider it.

My son Craig turned me onto it. He is a mad golfer. His enthusiasm infused the same in me. Watched some golf with him at his apartment and I started to dig it. Started to check it out on my own. Now I will dial it up from time to time for fun and profit.

Sons keep giving back. At least my sons do. Keith turned me into a mad PATS fan. I was always a football fan. From the age of ten. But I would watch any good game because I loved and worshipped the sport. It was easy to skip PATS games because they sucked at the time. Keith forced me to watch THE PATS. Even when they sucked. Now I can't live without them.

I enjoyed The Masters. There is one image that got burned into my brain.

After Watson won, there was a shot of his young son toddling towards him. Then the wife came into view.

What an amazing feeling that must have been. To look at your wife, your son, and say "Look what I did. See what I accomplished."

One man on his own.

Team sports rock.

We lose ourselves in them as we must if we are to survive this thing called life. I did not watch one Bruins game this year even though I love hockey. Guess I am just shiftless and lazy. But I will jump on the bandwagon and dig the playoffs. And I will feel oh so very alive when I do.

I am digging The Sox right now. Early season baseball is awesome to me. My interest wanes a bit during the season, but the beginning and end of the season give me what I need.

I am itching for the start of THE PATS year, although I am committed to loving warm weather slowly and casually before I get there.

When your team wins, you crazy go nuts. You celebrate and feel like you have accomplished something right along with them. And they are all "we this and we that."

Very cool.

But individual sports, man.

That has to be the pinnacle of pride. Achievement.

Golf, tennis, whatever. You get to do it on your own. And you get to turn to your wife and kid and say "Look what I did. Look what I did for us."

I will never have that feeling. Not on that level. And I feel cheated because of that.

I am forced to define my success on a much smaller level, full of compromises and rationalizations.

Which of course makes it a lie.

$1,620,000. That's what Bubba got for winning The Masters.

You can say it is not about the money, but you would be full of shit. It is not only about the money, but cold, hard cash makes life a hell of a lot warmer. Softer.

Still, I can only guess what it feels like to achieve on that level. To look into the eyes of your family and know they are immeasurably proud of you. Undeniably, deservedly so.

I am Bubba Watson's wife. I am Bubba Watson's son. Proud words lovingly spoken.

Bubba Watson cried on his wife's shoulder as they celebrated privately in front of the world. I interpreted those tears as an expression of pride on his part, as well as an expression of giving, an expression of sharing, an expression of "us" in our success and love and luck.

It gets passed down too. Twenty years from now Bubba's son can show friends a replay of him toddling onto the course into Daddy's arms.

He can say "That was when my Dad won The Masters. For the second time in three years."

He can say that with a chestful of pride.

Sports ain't just about sports.

If that's what you think, you are missing something.

You are missing a whole hell of a lot.

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