A Strange Prophecy
I took golf lessons over a period of years from a teaching professional, Bob Joyce, whose family has a great legacy in the game; including the fact that his brother played on tour.
In 1997, early in Tiger Woods career, after he had just won his first Master’s Tournament, I was being tutored on the driving range when I paused to ask Bob:
- So, looks as though Tiger may turn out to be the greatest player ever. Might even surpass Nicklaus. What could possibly stand in his way?
- Two things. First, because his swing is so torqued and ferocious, he might injure his back. In fact, that’s probably why he only plays about 26 events a year. Needs to give it a rest.
- What else, then?
Bob stepped back, made a small circular tunnel with his left hand, then poked his right middle finger in and out of the ersatz vagina as he simultaneously said:
He was partially wrong about the first orthopedic disability, which turned out to be his left knee; before the back soon followed.
He was also dead wrong by not using the plural of the vernacular female anatomical descriptor.