As I watched Tiger Woods win his fifteenth major championship, I couldn’t help but be incredibly inspired. Here was a man who had overcome knee problems, back surgeries and a golf club to the teeth compliments of his former wife. He had almost quit the sport and many experts had agreed that he should. People said he was “washed up,” and that we had “seen the best of Tiger.” However, Tiger Woods was not to be denied and forged ahead in spite of everything that had been said about him. He decided to climb back up the mountain of success and worked harder than most to ensure he could reach the peak yet again. Lately, the hard work seemed to be paying off for him, but a major championship still seemed out of his reach. Far removed from his youthful years and competing against a much more competitive field of golfers, Tiger had every reason to settle on mediocrity. But that’s not how Tiger Woods is wired and with his incomparable victory at Augusta on April 14th, 2019, he proved all of his doubters wrong and inspired millions across the globe, including myself.
As I sat in my pajamas, devouring another handful of potato chips, I watched in amazement as Tiger Woods made his winning putt. My eyes swelled with tears as I watched him emphatically embrace his young son. The spectators began chanting his name and I joined in from the seat of my couch. As he took his victory walk to the clubhouse, I couldn’t help but to watch in awe at his spectacular feat. Here was a guy who had essentially lost everything and yet, came back to create one of the greatest comeback stories of all time. What a true inspiration. It was at that moment that I decided to put the bag of chips down and take a shower. While in the shower, I began crying at the pathetic piece of shit I had become. I had not lived up to my full potential and had let all of my self doubt cripple my success. If Tiger Woods could overcome his hurdles, well goddammit, so could I. I conditioned my hair for the first time in a decade and stepped out of that shower a new man. I was going to take Tiger’s lead, and climb my own mountain to success.
My first step was to finally become a respectable golfer. I thought it only fitting that my journey begin with a swing of my rusty irons. I retrieved my clubs from the attic and brushed off the cobwebs. Giddy with excitement, I shook as I inspected the condition of my clubs. I walked outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. I placed my clubs on the ground and set a ball on a tee. I took a few practice swings and waved to my elderly neighbor with a true sense of happiness. I couldn’t wait to get my life back on track and overcoming my truly horrid golfing skills was the obvious first step. I stepped up to the tee and placed my club head next to the ball. I briefly closed my eyes and recalled the scene of Tiger hugging his son. I reared back and took a hard swing at the ball. I sliced the shit out of it and violently tore my groin muscle. The ball bounced off of my neighbor’s shed and shattered his patio window. I fell to the ground in agony, screaming out multiple curse words.
My neighbor rushed over and attempted to help me off the ground. I felt like someone had placed my groin into a vice grip. My stomach began to hurt and I hurled potato chips all over my neighbor’s orthopedic shoes. He got super pissed and began beating me with the butt of his cane, leaving me with several broken ribs. “You’ll pay for the damn window,” he said as he sputtered back to his house. I dragged myself to my porch and attempted to crawl up the step to my back door. I couldn’t reach my hand up high enough to open the door, so I was forced to wait on my family to return from their day of shopping. By this point my groin was swelling so bad that I looked like I had a goddamn grapefruit inside my pants. The pain was pulsating and I couldn’t stop myself from vomiting more potato chips. Suddenly, it began to storm and I was left with absolutely no shelter from the elements. It started to hail hard and, ironically enough, the hail was the size of golf balls. The hail was intense and I took several shots to the groin. Fearing for my life, I removed my pants and lassoed it around the door knob to pull myself up. I was able to open the back door and frantically lunged my body onto my kitchen floor. My groin popped and I passed out. When I finally came to, I was still covered in pieces of hail, I had defecated on the floor, and a stack of divorce papers were placed on my chest. Tiger Woods had ruined my life.