Reality TV: I miss the scripts

Tiger Woods was supposed to charge up the leader board as never before, lay claim to his 5th Green Jacket, setting up two months of Grand Slam chatter as we ready for the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines.

That was script A.

Script B would have been fine too.

Trevor Immelman, just four months following surgery to remove a tumor (he learned it was benign only after the surgery) from his back, holds off said charging Tiger with steely nerves and a birdie at the last for his first major championship.

Instead, it was like the writers strike never ended.

Script C stunk.

Tiger never challenges in the chilly, swirling winds of Augusta National. He turns illiterate in reading Augusta’s fabled greens. He cards a pedestrian final round 72, never challenging Immelman for the lead.

And Trevor, congrats on the physical recovery and lifetime exemption to the Masters, but limping home with a 75 that included a double at 16 hardly invokes comparisons to Jack’s back nine 30 in 1986. Or Tiger’s record setting supremacy in 1997. Or even Phil Mickelson’s birdie at the last in 2004.

I kept waiting for something dramatic to happen. Jim Nantz really kept waiting for something dramatic to happen. He finally mailed it in with his uninspired call of “Golf has a new major champion.”

After Immelman inexplicably dunked it in the water on 16, I found myself rooting for a Van de Veldian implosian. And really, is that something that anyone without a core of pure evil should root for?

So often, Sunday at the Masters delivered with spectacular theater that we have come to expect it. But the course changes of added length and rough no longer allow, outside of perfect scoring weather conditions, thunderous roars through the magnolias. The course is just too hard if the winds pick up at all, or if the temperatures dip below 70. And despite what Al Gore will tell you, there still remains a good chance of a chilly April weekend in Georgia.

The 2008 Masters reminds us, that as much as we want them to, sports may not follow our scripts. Maybe enduring the occasional snooze fest really isn’t that heavy a price to pay for the sheer joy of when talent, drama, and timing collide. Just right now, I feel a little case of buyers remorse.

Advertisements

There are no comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: