Congrats, Lefty

Very nice win for Phil Mickelson at The Masters. It's always a pleasing experience when your favorite golfer wins your favorite tournament.

As Phil sank that last putt (for birdie!) and the coronation began, a few things came to mind:

Phil could have gone even lower in his final round. He was in position to eagle both 13 and 15. On the other hand, we've also seen him melt down when he'd miss putts like those, so good for him to keep his shit together and still pick up a stroke each time despite the disappointment of not dropping in those eagles.

He spared himself another round of ribbing about his vertical leap by not even attempting to jump when he closed out the round for the win.

I have a natural gag reflex when it comes to sports schmaltz and the broadcast team dropping anvils about a heartwarming personal story, yet it was still a little endearing to see Amy Mickelson there at the 18th. Their hug was obviously heartfelt and moving. And I don't suspect a conspiracy theory or anything, but I'm sure CBS, and particularly the folks at Augusta National, were only too happy to let the cameras linger on that shot a good long while, if only to compare and contrast with what could have happened, if someone else had won the tournament. Say, someone else with a wife who wouldn't have been so generous with a hug, since her husband likes to choke strippers and "fuck that ass he owns" and bang a breakfast restaurant waitress in a car in the parking lot where he just disposed of her used tampon. (And probably just left a 10% tip). Something tells me Billy Payne would have had a Costco-sized jug of Purell in the Butler cabin preparing for that handshake.

But enough about what could have been. Let's just celebrate what DID happen. So, Congrats, Lefty. Make room in the closet for another Green Jacket.

God hates Tiger Woods.

GodWatch: Another in an ongoing series of updates regarding the powers and interests of The Almighty.

This past Sunday God took time out of his busy schedule to once again intervene in our earthly and mundane matters of sport, apparently guiding little known golfer Zach Johnson to a win at The Masters. Much like he did when sapping Rex Grossman of all accuracy and talent and "giving" a Super Bowl championship to gay rights detractor/intolerant douchebag Tony Dungy, the lord countered the "obvious effects" of global warming and made Augusta GA a cold, windy and inhospitable place for low scoring.

His divine intervention caused Phil Mickelson to vomit up a triple bogey on the first hole of the final round and Tiger to play like a mere mortal (probably because He didn't want El Tigre to show up His son on His "other birthday" and steal all His press. And the big man upstairs is also probably a little cranky about having to shell out for TWO presents and TWO birthday parties every single year for over two millennia). But new green jacket wearer Johnson knows where his spiritual and sporting bread is buttered, and consistently used CBS airtime to thank his mythological homeboy for kneecapping Retief Goosen and diverting the powers holy away from insignificant issues like Shiite uprisings, Iranian nuclear shenanigans, suffering in Zimbabwe, Grindhouse weekend box office, unholy panning for gold unions or the pestilence of Sanjaya.

Supernatural meddling aside, congrats to Johnson on using his meager human skills and efforts to capture one of sports most distinguished honors and pieces of outerwear.