Golf wussies

Army of Dad and I have had this conversation before and while we both like golf, we've come to the conclusion that golfers are coddled little babies. Watching the Match Play 36-hole finals this morning on ESPN and a caddy for one of the players chewed out some fan whose camera shutter disturbed the golfer.

GIVE.ME.A.FUCKING.BREAK.

Major League Baseball players have to stand in a little batter's box a few feet long and a couple of feet wide and they have to face a baseball hurled at them at around 90+mph with wicked movement on the ball before they swing their bats to hit it. In addition to having to hit a moving ball that is curving or dropping, they have asshole fans behind them yelling questionable things about their wives' or mothers' chastity or throwing things at them while they're batting. Golfers simply have to hit a little ball off a stationary tee or maybe the rough if they made a bad shot earlier. They have to have complete silence to hit a stationary ball. And, add to that the fact that there aren't nine people out there trying to deter your ball from its intended goal. There is no Torii Hunter climbing a fence to rob you of a homerun. No. The destiny of your shot is in your hands. Maybe you have to contend with the rain or the wind. But, you know the layout of the course before you arrive. You can study the slopes, the angles, the water hazards or whatever. But, noooooo, you pansies have to have complete silence. No super-loud camera shutters which could distract you and God forbid a cell phone rings. We may have chaos on the golf course. *shaking my head*

Give me a steroid-infested man with a 36-ounce piece of ash in his hands wearing tight little sliding pants and a baseball hat. Now THAT is what I'm talking about. Not some dude in plaid pants, a polo shirt, sweater vest and a visor who can't handle a shutter click.