Freestyle Friday: The Open Edition

I’m writing this morning as I watch The Open Championship, better known in the US as the British Open. I may be a bit scattered. Two hands on the keyboard, one eye on the TV.

You have to wonder what Phil Mickelson is thinking some times. Is he thinking at all? Is he thinking too much?

Hey, there’s John Daly on the scoreboard. Because of his current position (T139) you can’t really call it the leaderboard. I had forgotten that he won The Open in 1995. I’m guessing that’s the only reason why he is in the field. No way he qualified otherwise.

That’s what is so odd about golf; win and you’re invited back to participate in the tournament for, like, 100 years.

Does that happen in any other sport? Super Bowl champions aren’t invited back to the playoffs the following year. Neither are World Series Champions.

Under the new NASCAR rules, you make the Chase if you win one of the 5,048 races (not really, it just seems like it) they run in a season, but at least you have to win to qualify.

Could you imagine the uproar if the college football playoff selection committee was obligated to provide a spot to last year’s CFB champ? Oh the outcry from Oklahoma State fans, which is expected in a normal year.

I love the little vignettes that ESPN does during The Open broadcast. They just did one on Eleanor Rigby.

Good grief Phil. Yyyyyyyyyyyyyank! Ah!

Anyway, you have heard of Eleanor Rigby. Though much is not known of her life,  she passed away in 1939 at the age of 44, she was introduced to generations when two men who grew up near her gravesite – John Lennon and Paul McCartney – met and crafted a song with her as the subject.

Interesting to me – and if you’ve ever heard the story of why my grandfather’s last name is Labore but the last name of his full-blood brothers and sisters is Rock, you’ll know why – Eleanor Rigby’s real name was Eleanor Whitfield. Her grandfather and the family patriarch, John Rigby, wanted the family name to continue, so he had her name changed to Eleanor Rigby.  The name continuing exercise didn’t materialize, however, as Eleanor Rigby was unable to have children.  Interestingly enough, my granddad had all girls.

Alas,
Eleanor Whitfield, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came
doesn’t have the same ring to it.

See, you thought that watching golf was boring. It’s entertaining and educational.

The Tom Watson  (currently +1, T53) MasterCard commercial is awesome. I would FREAK.

Who is Bruce Koepke? He’s an American on the first page of the leaderboard (-4).

Okay, you guys are tired of reading about me watching TV, so I’m going to wrap this up. I’ve almost been writing on this site for a year.  If I recall, the first post was near the end of July 2013. To celebrate, I’m going to go back through the posts and pull out some of my favorite ones, then share whatever Google stats I have on those posts. It should be interesting.

Over the course of the last week or so, I’ve had a few, a handful, of people come up to me and say that they’ve been following the blog. I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you for reading. I can’t ever thank readers without thanking Leah, Jarrod, Jim, and Karly who read weekly – and have been reading my blogs for years. Google Analytics provides a lot of data on site traffic, but it doesn’t measure how much each of you choosing to spend a few minutes here each week really means to me. Thank you.

Now let’s go see if Ol’ Tom Watson can make some magic in The Open.

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