Sprkus

I’m not a fan of professional golf. Never have been. I couldn’t tell you the difference between Fredrik Jacobson and K.J. Choi. And the thing I like most about Tiger Woods is a song named after him by Dan Bern.

There’s something to be said about filling a cooler with beer, loading it on a golf cart and flying around a par-three course creating divots and earning double bogeys. But watching others do it has never held my attention.

So when my girlfriend and I spent Sunday afternoon at the Memorial Golf Tournament at Muirfield Village in Columbus, I wasn’t eager to see any of the pros. I would have been nice to see Woods in person, but honestly I would rather see Homer Bailey, a Cincinnati Reds pitching prospect. But that’s another blog post.

Tiffany’s company funds a skybox on the course which translates into free tickets, grub and cocktails for the both of us — one of the perks of her job.

This was my second year attending the golf tournament, also making it only the second professional golf experience I’ve had in total.

And I find the event … eerie.

Thousands of people hovering around their favorite of 18 holes guzzling alcohol and with nary a peep. Nobody yelling “Woooo Hoooo” or “Yeeeaaahhhhh” or “Play some Skynard!” Just a sea of khaki shorts swaying while the pro is swinging and reacting when the ball reappears. It’s so quiet you can still hear the cars around the roads around the 220-acre golf course.

To my enjoyment, we spent most of our time in the skybox instead of walking around the course. There I had my first Cuban cigar thanks to Tiff’s boss Ted. Enjoyed it with a little Glenlivet scotch and joked around with Tiffany’s coworkers.

And that’s when I realized why people come back.