|
All,
Someone sent me an amusing article that appeared in SI
recently....
> The Guns of Augusta
> By Rick Reilly
> Sports Illustrated
>
>
Now that the fire is out, the riot has been quelled, the paramedics
are gone,
the jails are locked down and the National Guard is in control, I
have to say
that the 2003 Masters was an absolute Hootie. Wouldn't you?
And it all started so innocently.
Martha Burk wrote a little letter asking Augusta National to get a
female
member. Club president Hootie Johnson answered by saying, basically,
"When
Hell gets a bobsled team." Feminist groups promised to picket the
Masters.
The New York Times demanded that Tiger Woods boycott
the event. And Jesse Jackson said he'd be there for the women.
For their cause, I mean.
So the tournament started, and for the first time in history, there
were
throngs of protesters outside the gates of storied Magnolia Lane.
There were
two main groups: Martha's Mothers, who carried signs saying things
like
"Welcome to the Ms.sters," and "Hotties for Hootie," who
were led by Anna Nicole Smith because, as one said, "she's so great
with the
octogenarians."
Then Ben Wright showed up and said that women couldn't fit into the
members'
green jackets because "their boobs get in the way." Gloria Steinem
hit him
over the head with a Big Bertha, and you had yourself a good
old-fashioned
throwdown.
That convinced CNN to set up a makeshift studio at the new Piggly
Wiggly
across the street, with Wolf Blitzer at the desk. They called the
show Insane
at the Lane and started broadcasting nonstop. Next thing you knew,
everybody
who had a bone to pick with Augusta showed
up at the gates.
There were picket signs saying that Augusta was unfair to Asians,
Native
Americans, Eskimos, North Dakotans, South Dakotans, New Mexicans,
Mexicans,
gays, poor people and Donald Trump (none of whom are members). Banned
CBS
analyst Gary McCord was there holding an "Augusta Unfair to Me" sign.
Jesse Jackson was there, chanting, "We don't want surplus cheese! We
just
want women's tees!" And Newt Gingrich was walking around handing out
"Newt's
for the Coots!" bumper stickers. All the billionaire CEOs who are
members of
the club had to sneak past the press by pretending they were
pimento-cheese-sandwich deliverymen.
Then Phil Mickelson had a plane fly overhead pulling a sign that
read, "Tiger
out of Augusta Now!" And NOW was there with T-shirts that read, "A
Woman's
Place is at the (practice) Range." Then Kenny G showed up, but the
fur people
mistook his hair for a coonskin cap and hurled a bucket of blood at
him. Some
of the blood got in the eyes of the old Pinkerton guard manning the
gate, and
while he was temporarily blinded, Winona Ryder lifted the old guy's
keys and
let everybody in.
That's when it started getting nuts.
Burk and her adjutants occupied Ike's Cabin -- which the other side
sarcastically renamed Dyke's Cabin -- and Hootie and the members
holed up in
the men's grill, firing black-eyed peas at anybody who wasn't wearing
one of
their "The only iron a woman should hold is a steam iron!" T-shirts.
In the middle of all this, the players were trying to win the
tournament,
which wasn't easy with Johnnie Cochran running all over the place
yelling,
"How come the balls are white? Where are the balls of color?" and Pat
Buchanan holding a prayer vigil at Amen Corner, and PETA down at
Rae's Creek trying to save the fish swimming in the green-dyed ponds.
I still can't figure out why Hans Blix and his U.N. inspectors were
there.
People kept having to explain to Jimmy Carter that there were no
hostages to
free. They finally had to get an ambulance for CBS anchor Jim Nantz.
Hootie
had decided to televise this Masters without any ads, to take the
heat off
his sponsors; the E.R. guy said no TV announcer
could handle the stress of going that long without re-moussing.
But the most frustrated person at Augusta was Tiger Woods, who was
trying to
become the first man in history to win three straight Masters. He led
by 35
shots at one point, despite having to constantly step over and
around Dusty Baker's kid, who kept running along the fairways trying
to pick
up Tiger's ball and bring it back to him.
Hootie finally canceled the whole damn tournament Sunday afternoon,
mostly on
account of Richard Gere's Tibetan monks meditating in the bunkers,
the pile
of burning bras on the 18th green (which somebody tried to put out
with Andy
Rooney) and the desecration of the embership log by Burk, who wrote
herself
and 50 of her friends in as members.
Tiger had only a four-footer left on 18 when Hootie shut it down.
Tiger
didn't take the news well. It was the first time anyone had seen a
guy come
for the green jacket and get taken away in a straitjacket instead.
Still, I think Hillary will make a terrific membership chairwoman,
don't you? |
