Shouting out to some very nice ladies down in the Lonestar State. If you happen to see a famous golfer in the produce section, please don’t tell him you’re sending up prayers for him. He really doesn’t need them.
But since his collapse at the Masters, Jordan Spieth says that’s what keeps happening. “I’m not taking it very hard. I’ve got ladies at the grocery stores putting their hand on me and going, ‘Really praying for you; how are you doing? I’m like, my dog didn’t die. I’ll be OK. I’ll survive. It happens. Actually I laugh about it now.
Think that’s annoying at all? Guy’s trying to find the ripest avocado and he’s got strangers putting their hands on him saying thoughts and prayers just because he played a few bad holes.
Spieth’s attitude is exactly what I’d expect from the guy. He admits that his 2016 Masters is always going to come back up. He knows it. He’s just past it. You really think that quadruple bogey on No 12 is going to haunt him for the rest of his career? He was haunted so badly that he birdied the very next hole. And the 15th.
He was so traumatized by Augusta that he took off with his best friends and had a bro trip in the Bahamas that was all over Instagram.
Stop saying Jordan Spieth is Greg Norman. That gripper never got a Jacket. Spieth got one at 22.
Stop attaching the words “Van De Velde” to this guy. It’s easy, it’s not funny, and it doesn’t even make sense. He’s not some one-trick pony choker. He’s one of the world’s best players and the game’s future. Please stop praying for him at the deli counter.
If you’re looking to give your prayers to somebody down in Texas, give them to your Cowboys, your Longhorns, your Astros, and Billy Football. They’re the ones who actually need them.