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I bore easily, so I'm generally not given to marathon bouts of television-watching. So why did I spend five hours glued to the tube yesterday? The Masters golf tournament, of course, which Phil Mickelson won commandingly. I'm a fan of televised golf from way back, and the four major tournaments -- the Masters, the U.S. Open, the British Open, the P.G.A. Championship -- can make for engrossing TV. (The Masters didn't make for engrossing TV on Saturday, when rain delayed the competition for four hours. How much old footage of Bobby Jones can one really watch?)
My enthusiasm for televised golf started shortly after college, when I discovered the pleasure of the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic, in which celebrities like Alice Cooper and Bill Murray compete. It's satisfying to watch movie stars and rock singers golf because, in this venue at least, they look like regular people. So viewers get to be treated to the sight of, for example, Joe Pesci chipping into a water hazard, over and over. The Chrysler Classic also is nice because it takes place in the dead of winter, so just looking at the shirtsleeve weather of Palm Springs in February is a balm to frozen Midwesterners like me.
At some point, though -- perhaps it was when David Duval shot a 59 at the Bob Hope in 1999 -- I must have noticed that although the gaffes of the stars are entertaining, the sorcery of what golf pros do on a course is simply mesmerizing. I was hooked. And so golf is the only professional sport I follow. Wouldja believe that the first section I read in the newspaper this morning was the sports page? Usually I discard it, but today it has a nice color picture of Mickelson posing in a green blazer, the prize for winning the Masters. (That, and $12.6 million.)
My attention to televised golf has been spotty in recent years, though. Who wants to set aside five hours on a Sunday afternoon? But in this, My First Year With a TiVo, everything is possible.
Do you suppose there many people like me: Fans of televised golf who have never set foot on a links?
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