So he tries the tightrope with no net, and sometimes his Titleists go gurgle-gurgle, and you rip him a new one, forgetting you had already ripped all the Paycheck Petes who go for the top 10 instead of trying to win.
You don't care that he's the only player out there who will stomp on Tiger's tail, who has punked him four times at groin-shrinkage time. Or that he's one of the few who doesn't suck up to Eldrick, either: He was one of only three players who turned down Tiger's invitation to the Williams World Challenge this year. You only care that he isn't Tiger, and that's flat unforgivable.
That he plays golf the way he wants and lives life the way he wants doesn't mean jack. In your book he's a wimp and a wuss until the day he wins a Big One. And on that miraculous Sunday, when the waste suddenly turns to the wonder, what will you say?
My man Phil!