A
cyclist, bleached hair and tattoos, speaks from behind his Oakleys.
"My God dude, that was a totally awesome race. When you made
that attack on lap 33, dude your first 10 pedal strokes must have
been at 1200 watts!"
Out
from under a Titleist™ golf cap, cigarette still attached
to the lip, a Catfish mustachioed golfer speaks.
"Damn buddy, you were on fire today. I mean you were rolling
the pill so smoothly on the greens and that drive you busted on
#5 was friggin' HUGE! It must have been 330."
"Yeah,
and that time up the little grinder when I was riding tempo, I
looked back and I was breaking some legs. Just like I planned.
Softening up the field."
"Yeah,
and how about that knock down wedge I hit into #9. Shit that thing
hit the green and skidded to a stop just like I was planning.
Tap in bird."
"Where
did you place at the end?"
"What'd
you end up shooting?"
"5th
dude! I'm getting' PAID!"
"76.
I think I won some skins too."
"Cool!"
"Nice."
Meanwhile
at the team tent across the parking lot and a table across the
room in the clubhouse the following scene unfolds…
"Why
are you so down?"
"I don't get it. I bought the Pro V1™ balls. $54 a dozen.
They're supposed to make me hit the ball longer. I bought this
new set of Ping ™ irons and a new $800 450cc titanium head
driver. I've been paying the pro $100 a month for lessons too.
I lost 2 balls in the woods off of 11, dunked a ball in the pond
in front of the tee on 13 and hit a ball so far into the deep
grass on 8 that I couldn't find it. I bladed the approach on 2
so badly that the cover of the ball cut and I had to toss it.
All this money and I still can't break 95. All I am is a more
expensive hacker!"
"What's
up dude?"
"I don't get it. I bought this new titanium and carbon fiber
bike, carbon fiber bars, $300 Sidi™ shoes and Record 10 components.
I'm rolling around on $4000 worth of stuff and that doesn't even
take into account the $1200 I dropped for the Reynolds™ wheels.
I still can't hang with the surges and whenever I try an attack
I can't last more than 200 meters. All this money and $125 a month
for an internet coach and all I am is expensive pack fill!"
"Why
do I suck so bad?"
"You've got no hand eye coordination. You should try riding
a bike or something"
"Why
do I suck so bad?"
"You've got limited genetic aerobic or anaerobic capacity.
You should try golf or something."
"Who
you like for the Tour?"
"Obviously Lance."
"Who
you like for the Masters?"
"Obviously Tiger."
"What
about the Spaniard, Beloki."
"Injuries, dude."
"What
about the Spaniard, Olazabel?"
"Injuries, man."
"I
like the Scotsman, David Millar. That' guy can TT with the best,
but his climbing might hurt him."
"I like the Scotsman Colin Montgomerie. That guy is one of
the best ball strikers, but his putting might hurt him."
Precisely
that same moment at the low handicapper table and back at the
Cat 3 team tent…
"Dude,
I just got enough upgrade points to go Cat 2!"
"Awesome! Dude how old are you?"
"27"
"Dude, you're young enough. You got some time, you should
see if you and your girlfriend could move in with your parents.
Y'know, quit your job at the restaurant 'cause you're on your
feet all the time which hurts your recovery. I bet if you could
train all the time you could get to Cat 1 or even Pro."
"Dude, I am so on your wave length. I've been thinking this
over a lot. I mean it only took me 5 years to upgrade, and Armstrong
is 32. In another 5 years, I'll be the same age and with it being
I'm a late bloomer, I should have at least 5 years of career left
in Europe before I retire."
"Right on." "Dude you're my hero. What's the biggest
race you've won?"
"Oh, I haven't ever won. I've just finished in enough field
sprints in crits this year to place and earn points."
"You ever time trial?"
"Once. I couldn't break the hour for a 40k, but man time
trials aren't bike races. I'm a crit specialist."
"How's your climbing?"
"It needs some work, like I suffer like a dog on hills and
I've never really raced in mountains. I hear they're different.
I don't think I'd get popped on mountains like I do on hills cause
people ride slower."
"Right on."
"Word."
"You
shot a 69?"
"Yep"
"First time under Par?"
"Yep. Hopefully the first of many."
"What's your previous best?"
"I've shot even a lot, but mostly 75's."
"Cool."
"I'm thinking of quitting my job. My wife can support us
if we move to an apartment and I can work on my game. I think
if I had the chance to practice all the time, I could make it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yeah, you break par for the first time after golfing for
20 years and all of a sudden you're thinking of quitting your
job at the bank and hitting golf balls all day? You've been smoking
some of that Karl Spagler hybrid grass or something because you're
obviously stoned. I guarantee when you share this dream - uh,
nightmare - with your wife she's gonna leave your dumb ass and
deservedly so. Golf is a game. If you had the talent to make it
to the tour, you'd have at least won a local tournament or 10!
Snap out of it! Bartender! NO MORE BEER FOR THIS MAN."
Sheepishly: "You're right. Bad idea."
