A one-legged Tiger beats a one-armed bog-trotter every time

Friday September 26th, 2008
Victor Juhasz

At times, the seemingly endless duration of a traumatic injury can leave a person feeling sorry for himself. I did, especially when I realized I was in some danger of losing my arm after my recent accident. It's a strange thought, that of losing a limb. It would be bad enough if you had a collection of other people's limbs, and maybe you mislaid one of them (and worse still for anyone who found it) but the thought of losing one of your own is nightmarish.

I was thinking these horrible thoughts the other day, wondering what would I do for a living if I did lose my arm? I'm pretty bright for a bog-trotter, and I soon realized I only use one hand to perform most of the things I rely on, things like typing, giving people the finger, holding a microphone, or having sex. Tiger's having a tougher time than I thought with that bum knee of his, though, and it occurred to me: What would I do if Tiger lost his leg?

On the face of it, that seems like a fairly stupid question, but I am kind of married to him, in an odd, non-gay way, because TV numbers usually suck when he's not playing. I write about him all the time, he is the subject of much of my public speaking and nearly all of my public answering, and if it weren't for Tiger Woods, golf wouldn't be nearly such a huge vehicle for corporate entertainment.

Holy crap! I wonder how many people would lose their jobs if Tiger Woods had to hang up one of his shoes and hop into the sunset. Just think of all those people working in the advertising industry for a start. There goes the campaign for Tigatorade, Buick would have to start making a pogo stick, all the people Tag Heuer employs to make second hands would have to be laid off, and Nike shoe sales would be cut in half, into right feet only.

"Is Feherty off his meds again?" you might be thinking, joking about a subject so serious. Well, no. The words sympathy and empathy both have the Greek word pathos at their core, which implies tragedy. Ask any one of the wounded warriors lying in Walter Reed, the National Naval Medical Center or other hospitals around the country if they think that laughing at tragedy is disrespectful and they'll say, "Screw that!" Comedy is their way out. That's why, on July 1, I held Feherty's IED of golf, earlier in the week of Tiger's AT&T event at Congressional. By the time you've read this crap, 36 wounded warriors, some with three- and four-star generals for caddies, will have joined 12 pros and celebrities for a morning of golf, lunch and laughs to take their minds off where they are in their lives, and remind them of how much they are loved. I, along with George Lopez, Cheech Marin, Kelly Tilghman, Tom Watson, Jason Gore (whose caddie, Lewis Puller III, is the grandson of Chesty Puller, the most famous Marine who ever served) and J.J. Henry, repaid a tiny part of our debt to those braver than we could ever be.

Oh, and for the record, I really wouldn't be that worried about golf if Tiger Woods lost his leg. Trust me, like the men and women who serve America, like the old Green Beret who taught him, Tiger would still find a way to get the job done. He won the U.S. Open on one leg, and I'd bet my right butt cheek he could do it again. That way, even if I lost, you couldn't call me a complete ass. Rim shot, please.

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