A summertime tradition

Trosclair ready to build for Thibodaux High

July 18, 2018

Schedules released, Colonels earn recognition

July 18, 2018

I’m a sentimental, simple guy. I don’t spew my passions too much, but the things that I do like, I like them hard.

I am an avid fan of the Houston Rockets. I watch all 82 games — either live or on tape delay on my NBA app. The same goes for LSU football, the Atlanta Braves baseball team and, heck, I can say it here in my column where I can be biased, South Lafourche athletics.

I’m not an obnoxious fan. I don’t overtly dislike other teams, but the few teams that are mine, I love them to the core.

And it’s caused me to develop a few habits and superstitions, as well.

Of all my sports passions, the biggest fandom that I have is for Eldrick Tont Woods. You sports fans know him as Tiger Woods.

He was my first athletic role model growing up. I remember watching him play the United States Amateurs with my dad as a kid. For most of his major accomplishments, I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing.

In 1997, Tiger won his first Master’s Championship. On the Saturday when he stormed out to a huge lead, I was mud riding with my cousin, Dustin Vegas, on his family’s land. When my dad came pick me up, he told me that Tiger had a 9-shot lead. I remember watching the entirety of the final round at home the next day.

I remember the PGA Championship when Tiger outlasted Bob May. I was in middle school at the time. The next year was 2001 and the “Better than Most” putt on the 17th hole of the TPC Sawgrass for The Players Championship. I was at my friend Jace Brunet’s house. When the putt went in, we both went crazy.

We were 14 at the time. But to us, seeing that level of dominance was the coolest thing in the world.

Heck, I even remember the bad times. I remember the 2002 Open Championship when Tiger seemed poised to work magic, but shot an 81 in the third round to fall well back. I also remember when I was in college. He got hammered by Y.E. Yang at the PGA Championship and I sat in my apartment in dismay. I was on the road when I found out Tiger Woods had been arrested for DUI in Florida. I was at a gathering with friends when I found out that he’d wrecked his vehicle after an altercation with his ex-wife.

I promise — I do have a social life. But I just tend to remember these things when it deals with something I’m passionate about.

Enough with the stories. Let me tell you about some of my traditions.

Because I’m such a diehard, I tend to be a bit of a stickler for tradition. Some may call it an OCD superstition, but I just call it part of being a fan.

Every, single spring, I watch the Master’s in the same place — on the left reclining chair in my family’s living room. When Tiger is in the field, I wear red — all four days. That’s no challenge to me. I have a lot of Houston Rockets clothing in my closet.

This week marks another tradition for me, as well.

Every, single year since my 7th grade summer, I’ve watched the British Open — almost cover to cover.

The event is in Scotland most years and the time distance has me up at 4 a.m. or staying up until 9 a.m., but I’ve watched it in its entirety since 1999 — now almost 20 years running.

In school, I was always on summer vacation, so I was able to get away with it. In the work force, I’ve always taken two vacation days — one for Thursday and the other for Friday, so that I can carry my tired self out of bed to watch the golf at the first sight of sun in the day.

Sometimes, Tiger plays well. Sometimes, he doesn’t. Heck, most years lately, he hasn’t played at all.

But it’s just something about The Open Championship that’s always been fun for me.

I say it’s about the golf and the pot bunkers and the challengers that the competitors face, but deep down, the real answer is that while watching, I’m a kid again — the little boy waking up from a sleepover at my Nanny Lorey’s house to watch the golf with my cousin Scotty. Or I’m the young college student who watched Tom Watson almost win The Open in 2009, despite having an awful case of Mono, which had me wanting to sleep.

So, I’m sorry if you guys call or email me at the back-end of this week. I will be MIA — gone fishin’.