Sunday, April 8, 2012

Everything's better in overtime

I learned two things about myself today:

1. I am actually open-minded when I give myself the opportunity to be; and

2. I am a sports slut. I sort of knew this already, but I underestimated the scope. Pretty much, if it involves any sort of physical prowess, I am there.

My roommate invited me to her family's house for Easter dinner. When we arrived, her dad was watching the 18th hole of the Masters. After a while in the kitchen, we congregated in the den, where it was cooler and where the TV showed American Bubba Watson and South African Louis Oosthuizen (say that three times fast) in a shootout for the biggest golf title in the land.

Boring, right?

Not even a little bit. I was entranced by the math that went into each shot, the precision while driving (Bubba has a pink driver, FYI) and I held my breath as he was putting. We all cheered when he finally won, after he'd sort of blown the first OT hole and then curved into the trees for in his first shot the second time around.

I have only one explanation for the previous phenomenon: If you make any competition sudden death, it becomes freaking awesome.

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