Tiger in a garden shed…

We can argue whether America is the leader of the free world or nor but it is indisputable that America is the world’s cultural superpower with its influence far, wide and complete.

By this I mean, it’s influence on other cultures.

Our rock stars sing in American accents. The street language and modern culture of kids across the world hails largely from LA and New York and is compounded by the complete and unassailable dominance of the American tech giants and their platforms.

Throw in US television and movies; later this month, the world will watch and then debate via social media how the Avengers have fared at keeping us all safe – and so it is also with the world of sports and Tiger Woods this weekend.

Just like the internet, which an English bloke invented but the Americans now administer and seem to mostly own, the Americans dominate the sport that I love – which happened to be invented in Scotland.

The purists will make a case for links golf and the majesty and history of our Open Championship – but the Masters is the biggest tournament of all and the one that the best players in the world most covet.

And its cache only increases with its new champion, Tiger Woods – arguably the world’s greatest sportsman?

The planets and the stars have all aligned for The Masters…

The dedicated venue of Augusta National and as beautiful and immaculate as it always is. Being the first major of the year and in springtime when we are all looking forward. Being on the BBC – so free and advert free! The enormous crowds and yet no moronic shouts of ‘get in the hole’. The caddies in white. Amen corner. The world’s best players dumping 9 irons in to water on 12. The azaleas and beautiful green everywhere. Acres of green. Everything is green including other tournaments and golf tours.

And as usual, everything was teed up this year for The Masters as the whole world waited, watched and hoped that Mr Woods might complete the fairy tale.

The ultimate return – almost Biblical – Lazarus-like from the spectacular lows since his life and game utterly and totally fell apart.

And he duly delivered of course – just like in the movies…  “and cue the family-hugs green-side, thank you…”

The Masters is perfect.

Absolutely prefect – right up until the presentation, that is, when perfection gives way to farce.

From the beauty of the course with the enormous galleries…


To a naff cabin – a sort of posh garden gazebo from B&Q or Home Depot – complete with panelling, cheap water-colours and a fire place with an electric element and lamp.

Chuck in three brilliant sportsmen – previous champion, current champion and leading amateur golfer – and two old blokes none of us even know… the whole thing has the look of a doctors waiting room.

It is so spectacularly naff as one bloke hitches a jacket on to another and especially so because just outside and beyond the UPVC double glazed windows is one of the best back drops in sport.

Only in America.

This is a phrase that we all understand – and me in particular given my first novel – available free btw on Amazon (the world’s shop and American website)

What, Only in America means, is that America is unique. That America and Americans do things in their own way and they don’t care whether people like it or not.

And as big and as successful and as influential as America is – they can stage this remarkable tournament to which the world is glued – and we end up with a Tiger in a garden shed.

Like I say… Only in America.

And, God bless em.







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