It was during the pandemic when I saw the Tiger Woods documentary.  Crashing into trees, the injuries, bleary eyed and drunk in his jail cell, trading silence from the tabloids in exchange for being on the cover of one of their magazines, his sex addiction and treatment of women.  Mind blowing.  Great golfer, obvi, but it’s so apparent that fame and money do not cure addictive behavior.  It's hard to tell from his public persona and expressions if he is simply stoic and stone-faced, unhappy, super protective of his privacy or what. Can't blame him for putting up a shield. That kind of fame and scrutiny must be torture.

In regards to golfing in general: My dad was a golfer.  A good one.  I mean a REALLY good one.  He was on the cover of a San Francisco newspaper sports section when he juuuuust missed qualifying for a big tournament. Almost everybody in my family plays golf. Blech.

I hate golf.  Boring AF.  Especially watching it on TV.  You gotta wait too long for something fun to happen.   

But I do have some golfing legends in my collection, in addition to Tiger.   

The Arnold Palmer signed photograph and hat comes from my great-uncle Charlie meeting Palmer at the U.S. open at Pebble Beach in 1982.  (Thank you, Chuck)

The others I’ve bought in collections over the years. I’m dazzled by the Sam Snead oversized menu from a 1957 dinner in his honor in Palm Springs. 

Lee Trevino was handsome and I’ve got nothing but love for Chi Chi Rodriguez's angular face.   

Was I talking about golf?