Alas, A Sports Post…

Five years ago today, my Grandfather died.  It was a Monday, the day after the Masters. He was 94 and one month, exactly.  Those of you who know me know I speak glowingly of him and what he meant to me.  He lived a modest life, lived in the same house for over 40 years before living with my Aunt the last two years of his life.  He survived his wife and a late-in-life romance with a woman who everyone loved.  He loved his family and we loved him.

But alas, this post isn’t about Rudolph Anderson or his life.  It is about legacy and what that means.  This morning, I made the mistake of turning on the TV and listening to the Napoleon of the Sports world, “Little” Mike Lupica start screaming about Tiger Woods and his quest to catch Jack Nicklaus.

Now, keeping in mind that Lupica is a well-known douche and Tiger is a world-re-known douche, there’s not much to really say in regards to these two, except in the Sports version of hell, there will be a special place for Lupica.   There’s something about the media’s desperate attempt to make Woods relevant again.  At 37, he is not the dominant force he once was, nor will he ever be.  But every April, June, July and August, the echos and the megaphones come out about Tiger’s quest to catch Jack.

Nicklaus won 18 Major’s.  He came in second a remarkable 19 times.  Woods has won 14, with five second place finishes.  There really is no comparison.  Woods might catch Nicklaus’ record, but since 2009, he has won zero majors and won’t win a 5th Green Jacket today.

My grandfather loved golf.  He also loved the Lions and all Detroit sports teams.  He always told me the Jack was the best and now, I agree with him.  Had Woods not “screwed” up his career a few years ago, he might have passed the Golden Bear’s record by now.  What  loudmouths like Lupica don’t understand is that Woods is just another golfer in the field these days.

Lupica is just another self-important New Yorker who thinks he is all that, when he’s not.  A friend of mine likes to tell the story of how he went to the World Series one year, and because of limited space in the Press Box, had to sit out with the fans.  “Don’t you know who I am?” he shrieked. This protesting kept on for a good half hour.  Finally, Dave Anderson, the great writer from the New York Times, came up to him and said, “They do, and they don’t care.”

Woods is still “important” because he’s who he is.  Lupica’s importance is only in his mind.

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