A reprieve

As somebody who never felt comfortable jumping on the Tiger Woods bandwagon, even when he was rocking tournaments easier than Perkins waitresses (too easy), I am officially giving Sir Eldrick a reprieve from his public humiliation and gleeful fall from superstardom. Yes, I am a Tiger Woods fan this week. Why? Because he's an American damnit.

Friday marks the start of the greatest sporting event that doesn't start with Super or end with Madness. The Ryder Cup has turned downright spiteful over the past two decades because Europe started competing. And, now, outside of soccer, it is an international competition where the United States of America is a realistic underdog. If you didn't cheer out loud in 2008 at Valhalla, you weren't watching it. Sure, it's golf (and I am a little obsessed with the sport), but the most unintelligible fans can enjoy it.

And then, Rory McIlroy had to go ahead and do it last month and today. Nothing against Rory, but you don't flex that type of blind arrogance unless you are #1 the best or #2 an obnoxious American. Read Tiger's three-word, two-answer, response to Rory's callout. Pure, awesome, American-infused badassness (add that word to the dictionary). I've spent months silently admiring the fall off the mountain for Tiger, but I read those words today, smiled, got blinded by a flash of red, white and blue, and secretly prayed that the Ryder Cup comes down to a singles match between Woods and McIlroy.

If only my life could be that sweet this weekend!