By Douglas V. Gibbs
From long locks, to a short haircut, to a high and tight with "USA" shaved into the side of his head. Yes, over the years, PGA golfer Rickie Fowler has made a lot of changes to his hair.
One of my few claims to fame is that I have golfed with Rickie Fowler before. . . twice. He beat me miserably. I never had a chance. The thing is, both times he beat me he was so young, he wasn't even a teenager, yet.
The Suchy Trenching Golf Tournament was all for fun. I loved to golf, when I was still able to, and I had a pretty decent drive from the tee box . . . especially when I managed to luckily keep the ball somewhere on the fairway, and out of the rough. My long game was fairly good, and my short game often struggled, but no matter how competitive I am, I just loved to play the game. It was like the old saying goes, "A horrible day of golf is still better than a great day at work."
Rickie Fowler's dad was a sand and gravel trucker, something I did for about five years, myself. One of his neighbors here in my beloved city of Murrieta, California, was one of the owners of the construction company I worked for at the time, and every year we had the just-for-fun golf tournament out in Irvine that even included guys messing with each other, doing things like planting a flag from a green in a bunker. The base of the flagpole would be driving deep into the sand, with the golfer getting ready to send his ball in the direction of the flapping flag, none the wiser that it had been misplaced, because of the hill between him and the promised land.
We had a beer cart, we were all toking on cigars, and most of us were also cigarette smokers. What a great game. Smoke, drink, inhale the outside air at a location other than on a construction job site, and get beat mercilessly by a nine-year-old kid with scrawny arms and long hair.
When Rickie was put into my group, I knew little about him. The previous year I had nailed the longest drive, and this year I was hoping to repeat my feat. On the fairway where they measured for the longest drive prize, that particular day, I was on target. Long and straight. Nobody was going to beat me.
Then the little boy with short clubs approached the tee, whacked the ball, and rolled it half a football field beyond my massive, monstrous drive.
I played with the kid a couple years later, again. And he was even better than before, with a long drive, near-perfect short game, and a putting stroke that made everyone in the tournament envious.
After one of his drives, I walked over and squeezed his arm. "Where in the hell did that come from?" I asked as I gestured down the fairway.
"It's not about power, sir. It's about finesse," he said.
Ouch.
Finesse is definitely something the kid had, and has. Now, watching him be the professional golfer everyone knew he'd become, his long locks and bright orange shirts were not a surprise.
Then, he cut the locks, and began to wear not-so-loud outfits.
The boy has matured, and the man he has become is kicking butt on the links.
Now, in a show of patriotism in his second Ryder Cup, the formerly long-haired kid showed us how radically awesome he can be. He will be travelling to Europe with a big ol' "USA" shaved into the side of his dome.
Good for you, Rickie. Now that is what I call "finesse."
-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
Rickie Fowler's hair is now ready for the Ryder Cup - sbNation
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