I love the Masters. I rarely sit and watch a golf tournament, but there is something special to the Masters. Maybe not to the extent Jim Nantz thinks there is, but it’s cool. And beautiful. Always makes it feel like spring.
I wanted Phil Mickelson to win. I love Lefty’s Tin Cup go-for-broke style. Once it was apparent Mickelson wouldn’t win, I turned to Bubba Watson. The guy’s from Georgia, he’s never had a lesson, and his name is Bubba. How can you not want to see Bubba in a green jacket? Bubba can play too.
I donated some money to Prairie Meadows this weekend. It was on something called Blackjack Switch. At least it was fun.
Jenny made a slot machine go nuts for about 10 minutes. I started building our summer home in my mind. Then I realized it was penny slots. She won thousands of pennies. But they’re pennies. Then again, I was losing at Blackjack Switch. Who am I to judge? She saved us.
I forgot what it’s like to walk into a cloud of smoke. The more years pass since people were allowed to smoke in restaurants, shops, and airplanes (!), the harder it is to believe.
Caught a cold at the Little League field Saturday. It was rainy, windy, and 48 degrees. When I was a kid, I wanted to play anyway. I’m not a kid any longer. (Two viewers have already told me I shouldn’t have hosted SoundOff, though one did offer to bring chicken noodle soup, so I’ve got that going for me.)
Later in the day, the sun returned to Raccoon Valley, but warm blood did not. Still, it was good to see Colin wearing the catcher’s gear, just as I did back when I wanted everyone to call me Johnny Bench.
Colin’s coach, Todd Kirke, is an example of everything that’s right in youth sports. I watch him teach these kids, while making it fun, and I’m reminded how much good can come out of Little League. (Todd in middle of picture. To his left, Tommy, also top notch.)