Athletes are just like us. The put their pants on, one leg at a time. They watch movies. They wants to have sex. Sure, sometimes they star in said movies and they probably have way more sex than you or I do, but still, we’re all just skin-bags full of bones and muscles. Take Phil Mickelson. The guy was just out, shooting some balls and playing a few holes when he ended up bouncing a ball off of a marshall’s head. The difference between us and him, however, is that he joked about it to the guy and gave him an autograph, ending it there. I have a funny feeling that if you or I would have done the same thing, my club would have ended up halfway up my ass while my ass would have ended up on the curb before I could even apologize for not being good at golf.
Gee, what a good guy. Good Guy Phil. GGP. “Sorry I potentially gave you a concussion, but here’s a joke about the durability of your head to lighten the mood. And also a signed glove. Not sure if you’re lefty or righty, but my guess is what’s important. Not yours.” Also, that dude was 100% holding back tears. No doubt about it. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were screaming “I need to go to the hospital or the bathroom so I can take this hat off and clean the blood off of my scalp.” Phil, meanwhile, is patting himself on the back for a job well done. Good job, Phil. It’s the thought that counts. Remember that next time you beam someone in the head with a ball. Like a baby. Or a dog. They’ll love your recycled one-liners and signed glove.