once upon a time

I'm not sure there is anything equivalent for people who don't follow sports. There is no other interest that arouses such passion. You can be really into music- but it's different to be putting your hopes and dreams, heart and soul, and personal joy or sorrow on the line for an athlete. Someone you will likely never meet. Someone who doesn't give 2 shits about you. Like that dreamy quarterback in high school, they don't know you exist- but literally.

Sportsophilia is a disease that usually only afflicts men. However, every so often, a female can fall victim to the as yet incurable and untreatable condition. I am one of those women. I love sports. I have favorites, and I am most capable of watching channels other than ESPN or CBS. But last night, when I was flipping back and forth between the Reds game and the Bengals preseason game, while following the Tigers/Royals game online, my friend can attest to the fact that while she was telling me... um... something, that even the most minute error in officiating by an NFL referee will take all of my attention. (But seriously- no flag?!). That is probably what makes it difficult for people to understand that while I feel the joy of victory and agony of defeat, I still can be a girly girl wearing makeup and stocking up on vintage jewelry. I'm a contradiction in action, so whether you first learn of my sports fascination or my obsession with makeup and accessories, the other is going to come as a surprise.

Therefore, when I visited Columbus in June and had an opportunity to attend a PGA golf tournament Sunday afternoon, my friends were confused by my hyperventilation. I never dreamed I would get to go to a PGA event, much less enjoy these particular circumstances.

As a matter of the world, where you have to know someone to get just about anything, a friend of a friend had a friend who lived on the golf course where the tournament was taking place. They offered us a place to park, and their passes to get on the course. They lived on the 15th fairway. As we parked and walked around to the backyard, near the edge where it kissed the fairway, Tiger Woods was striding down the fairway. From that point, the only thing I could say was, "holy shit holy shit holy shit."

We walked to a break in the plastic temporary fence and had the ushers check our passes, and my giant purse. Told I couldn't bring my cell phone, I dropped it on the ground and promised to be back for it. They put a tag on my purse to show it had been searched; the tag is still on my bag. I followed Tim to the 15th green, where I watched Tiger Woods sink a putt, and then walk by me- nothing between us but 3 feet of air. I followed Tiger to the 16th tee, and stood at the front of the crowd to watch him tee off. Then I made my move.

I was headed to the 18th green. I wanted to watch Tiger finish this thing. He was still a shot or two back. I figured I'd get a better spot if I went then instead of moving with Tiger. My friends were staying at the 16th tee to see other players play through- I couldn't fathom why. Tara went with me, but I lost her after about 10 minutes. All I could see was the green and wait for Tiger's ball with its Nike swoosh.

We waited. Another coupling played through. 20 minutes or so later, a small white sphere dropped in front of us onto the green. It rolled to a stop about 2 feet from the hole. Everyone was buzzing- was it Tiger's? It had to be Tiger's. How will we know if it's Tiger's? Someone with a contraband cell phone made a call. It was Tiger's.

Tiger's short birdie putt on 18 was what won him the tournament. It wasn't just amazing because he's my favorite golfer. It's pretty much understood that he is the greatest to ever play the game. I love watching golf. My heart stops and starts with the rough, the hazards, and the greens. I love other sports too- baseball, football, and hockey in particular. But I got to watch one of the greatest athletes of all time do what he does best- win. And there's just no concert or movie that can compete with the vicarious emotion of an athlete's true passion for the game.

But in any case- the serendipitous unfurling of events that led me to land at the 18th green was what was the most memorable. Up until the last moment, I didn't think it was possible. But it was- and that's the thrill of victory.

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Postscript: The kind lady and gentleman working the break in the fence delivered my phone to the friend's house, worried that I would forget it or it would be lost or stolen. Those people rock.