Deconstructing the Greatest Soliloquy in Human History

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Deconstructing the Greatest Soliloquy in Human History

Growing up, we all have those moments.  You know, when you're in the backyard, alone, maybe we have a baseball bat in our hands..."bases loaded, bottom of the ninth, two outs, down by three."

Maybe for you it was a basketball and the clock was winding down.  Buzzer beater...BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Well, for one man, it was a garden hoe and a row of flowers.  That one man, was Carl Spackler.

Ladies and gentlemen, picture in your mind if you will: the man, the myth, the legend, Carl Spackler.  Assistant greenskeeper at Bushwood Country Club, garden hoe in hand, "about to become Masters champion."

"What an incredible Cinderella story, this unknown comes outta nowhere to lead the pack, at Augusta. He's on his final hole, he's about 455 yards away; he's gonna hit about a two-iron I think.

Oh he got all of that one! The crowd is standing on its feet here, the normally reserved Augusta crowd...going wild...for this young Cinderella, he's come outta nowhere, he's got about 350 yards left, he's gonna hit about a five-iron, don't you think?

He's got a beautiful backswing...that's...oh, he got all of that one! He's gotta be pleased with that, the crowd is just on its feet here, uh...He's the Cinderella boy, uh...tears in his eyes I guess as he lines up this last shot, he's got about 195 yards left, he's got about a...it looks like he's got about an eight-iron.

This crowd has gone deathly silent, the Cinderella story, outta nowhere, a former greenskeeper now...about to become the Masters champion. It looks like a mirac...It's in the Hole!"

First off, Carl comes up to the 18th tee box, on Sunday, crowd cheering, and its a 455-yard par four.  Carl takes out his trusty 2-iron, which suggests to me that either his driver hasn't been kind to him today, or he's just so far out in front that he's showboating a little bit. Perfectly in the realm of possibility. 

He wants to make sure he makes his par so he can go crack open a beer and get the Green Jacket.  So, Carl hits his 2-iron a whole...205 yards!!!  That's it? 

Just for a comparison, I golf about three times a year and I can hit my 2-iron 240 yards.  This guy is about to become Masters champ and he's been hitting his 2-iron 105 yards all weekend? 

This suggests to me that either Carl took the laziest swing in Masters history, or he chunked it.  At least he's in the fairway...maybe.

For his next shot, Carl pulls out his 5-iron and hauls off and whacks it another 155 yards down the fairway.  So he just hit his 5-iron farther than his 2-iron.  I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that while he was trying to hit his first shot, Rosie O'Donnell was on the tee box eating a taco. 

Right at the top of his backswing, she felt her gut rumble and let out a juicy one that only a man of Rosie's magnitude could, causing Carl to cringe.  Hence, the weak effort on his first shot. 

Quick side note: In the U.S. Open last year, Tiger was hitting 5-irons 220 yards.

Final shot.  Carl takes out his 8-iron from 195.  So, he just hit his 5-iron 155, but he's trying to make the green from 195 with an 8-iron.  I'm speechless, Carl. 

I can't fathom this.  I feel like Carl would be the kind of guy who thinks he has a shot with Erin Andrews on the sideline after a college football game. 

I could just see Peter Flaherty on the course trying to commentate on this club selection..."I could have predicted a prairie dog coming out of my arse before I could have predicted this club selection, Jim."

Jim Nantz (from the tower): "Thanks, Peter. I have no personality, so I can't really comment further."

Of course, Carl nails it dead from 195 and the rest is history.  Oh, and...when he dies...on his deathbed...he will receive total consciousness.  So he's got that going for him...which is nice.

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