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


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.