One hand clapping

I'm glad for teenager Tryon, I really, really am

I've played golf a few times with this 17-year-old kid, this Ty Tryon , who qualified earlier this week for his PGA Tour card. Well, maybe not Ty Tryon himself, exactly, but with some of these other young gunners with their perfect little outfits with their perfect big swings. You know who I mean. Yes, you do.

They hang around golf courses, these kids, play about 72 holes every day, wind up with you for 18 because you only have a threesome and the starter says, "Hey, can Ty play along with you guys?" Sure. Right. No problem.

They carry their own clubs. You ride in the cart. They hit from the blue tees. You hit from the white. They outdrive you by about 75 yards on every hole except the par threes, where they land on the green with a wedge and you're short with a five iron. They putt out everything. They whine when they miss the 30-footer for an eagle and have to settle for the bird.

Golf, to them, is a wonderful lark. They stare with a lack of comprehension and compassion at your misadventures, your trips to the sand, woods and water. They eat constantly -- potato chips seem to be a favorite -- and they hum the lyrics to some song you're never heard. They finish with a 69, a 72, something like that, and move along to the first tee again while you move straight to the clubhouse bar and an adding machine to compute your own score.

It's nice, I suppose, that this kid, this Ty Tryon, has made the tour, but forgive me if I don't join in the applause. Jealousy is still an issue, even at middle age.

Leigh Montville's commentaries appear regularly on CNN/Sports Illustrated. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer.

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