Last weekend, in the lounge of the GCS Rest Home and Asylum, we were watching a TV show about sunsets and separate outdoor bathtubs on the ED Channel, when they interrupted regularly scheduled programming to show a golf tournament.

We watched in horror as a skinny fellow in bedroom slippers marked his ball repeatedly, obsessively changing the alignment of a magic line on his ball.  His behavior was apparently contagious, as we all began to flinch, twitch and squirm.

Nurse Diesel, our commandant, hates for us to get the yips, (especially in the bathroom) so she threatened us with Ambien suppositories if we didn't settle down.  We watched in silence as the man agonized over his putts; he backed out again and again, over and over and over.

Before he putted out on #17, we were sorry we had ever complained about Sergio's 26 re-grips or Keegan's St. Vitus Dance.

Eldon Pickler, CGCS-r, wondered why the network didn't just show some golf and come back to this guy on replay.  The waiting triggered a fight between Carl S. and Palmer over the existence of "green filters" on the cameras and then Nurse Diesel brought out the meds.

I woke up when a horn blew.  I thought it was the dinner warning, because we usually eat right after the kitchen smoke alarm goes off, but it turned out to be a lightning strike on TV.  (Lightning is a message from God to play faster.)  In the most decisive move skinny guy made all day, he marked his ball.

We adjourned to the dining room for cornbread, turnip greens and sweet potatoes, but every single one of us had trouble lining up our hardboiled eggs.  We had to keep marking them and backing off.

Nurse Diesel said we should be outside playing instead of inside watching young millionaires with OCD, so we all went outside with our little strips of synthetic turf, 6-irons and range balls to practice.  It quickly deteriorated into golf dodgeball, with the CGCS/PhD personnel on one team and everybody else on the other.

When we got back from taking Team-Letters-Behind-Their-Names to the hospital, the tournament was over.  We still don't know who won that tournament, but we do know hitting balls at each other is healthier and more fun than watching modern TV golf.