It seems those problems are no more for Tiger. After signing the $150 million check to ex-wife Elin, his head seems to be squarely focused on golf. And that’s a damn good thing. This dude was clearly never meant to be married. He WAS meant to shoot 65’s like it’s his job (protip: it is), and he did his job in the first round at the Barclays, to lead the pack.
Golf is so fucking hard it makes me physically sick to watch the pros sometimes. Tiger’s rocky play during the slightly-above-average-tail-parade that’s taken place this year is a testament to the psychological factor. He couldn’t go to his happy place. He’d close his eyes, try to get centered, and all he’d see is midgets on tricycles, grandmas in Gene Simmons masks, and the condescending grin of this motherfucker. BAM, sliced into the woods. “I will not slice, I will not slice, I will not” BAM, chili-pepper up Lee Jansen’s ass. You didn’t see any change in Kobe’s game when he was battling rape charges in Colorado, then flying back to LA every night to average 22 ppg in the Finals. In fact, that figure was actually higher than his season average of 19.
Anyway, Le Tigre, you’re free as a bird now. So clear that head, find your power animal, and remember 1. it’s all in the hips and 2. just tap it in. Just taaaaap it in.