Thank God that went in. Thank. God. Because that’s the sort of thing where, if it doesn’t go in, it’s hard to have a good weekend. Not for Rafa Cabrera-Bello; for us. For everyone who watched it. That putt will sit in your mind like a pebble in your shoe for days. In the same way that some people can’t handle when the volume of a TV is set to 19 or some non-factor of 5, I can’t handle putts that end up on the lip but don’t drop. It eats at me. It leaves me discomfited. I get fussy.
I still wake up in a cold sweat over this Tiger putt from the 2018 PGA championship:
It still doesn’t make sense to me. Why didn’t he just wait a little longer? All we needed was for a train to rumble by in the distance, and that things trembles in.
Anyway. Hit ’em straight this weekend!