http://www.worldgolf.com/blogs/brandon.tucker?disp=comments en-US-utf8 http://backend.userland.com/rss 60 Fri, 27 Oct 2006 19:22:22 +0000 Shanks [Member] c44017@http://www.worldgolf.com/blogs/ I guess Tim laughed at how Tiger Woods won the Open championship at Hoylake this year too. What a sissy-baby that Tiger is, a real girly-man that wouldn't hit his driver! But then by playing position golf he was able to have his name put on the trophy again. Imagine that. http://www.worldgolf.com/blogs/brandon.tucker/2006/10/26/you_won_t_find_championship_tees_at_golf#c44017 Fri, 27 Oct 2006 12:46:16 +0000 tim [Visitor] c44007@http://www.worldgolf.com/blogs/ I didn't get a caddie at Prestwick -- I forget why, there must have been a reason -- and<br /> I paid for it in some ways, and in some ways not.<br /> <br /> I used driver first hole. Nobody uses a driver that hole, and a group of Scots mocked me openly when I walked up to the tee with it.<br /> <br /> That pissed me off. Anger motivates me and I hit one of the best drives I've ever hit, though I missed a birdie putt, and if I ever play Prestwick again, I'll use a long iron. Still, that shut them up.<br /> <br /> That was a trend I noticed in Soctland. Most of the Scots I played with were good golfers, but they didn't like to gamble with the driver.<br /> <br /> They called me an ignorant American.<br /> <br /> I called them girly-baby-Scots, and we would trade insults. We had two games going on: golf and insults. Every time they'd hit an iron off the tee and I'd hit driver, I'd flex my biceps, a formidable sight if I do say so myself.<br /> <br /> In the pubs afterward, if we were still on speaking terms, the insults would continue and sometimes escalate, depending on how much Guinness we drank, for strength.<br /> <br /> I think one or two fights broke out, but usually they'd back down, remembering those biceps.<br /> I paid for it in some ways, and in some ways not.

I used driver first hole. Nobody uses a driver that hole, and a group of Scots mocked me openly when I walked up to the tee with it.

That pissed me off. Anger motivates me and I hit one of the best drives I've ever hit, though I missed a birdie putt, and if I ever play Prestwick again, I'll use a long iron. Still, that shut them up.

That was a trend I noticed in Soctland. Most of the Scots I played with were good golfers, but they didn't like to gamble with the driver.

They called me an ignorant American.

I called them girly-baby-Scots, and we would trade insults. We had two games going on: golf and insults. Every time they'd hit an iron off the tee and I'd hit driver, I'd flex my biceps, a formidable sight if I do say so myself.

In the pubs afterward, if we were still on speaking terms, the insults would continue and sometimes escalate, depending on how much Guinness we drank, for strength.

I think one or two fights broke out, but usually they'd back down, remembering those biceps.
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