An Ode to Tiger

After Sunday's butt whipping at the hands of Phil Mickelson, many sportswriters have written about Tiger's failure.  And while he may have played poorly, we need to lay off the guy.  He's still one of the best in the world, no matter what.  And all the pressure we're putting on him isn't helping.

To that end, I have composed the following poem to Tiger to let him know that at the very least, he can count on me for support.

Tiger I remember when you used to be great

When you didn’t hit a bogey on hole number eight

Instead of rounds filled with putting disasters

You dominated the field in winning the Masters

Now times have been tough and you’re not the same guy

And many sportswriters want to know why

Is it the knees, the ankles, or back?

Or is it the killer instinct that you lack?

Whatever the reason, it’s time to get tough

So no more tee shots deep in the rough

No more pars, bogeys, missed putts, or worse

It’s time to lap the field and come in first

Time to shine and be golf’s brightest star

So here’s my advice, head to a bar

Find a nice woman and treat her well

And she’ll break you out of this powerful spell

I know in the past from your marriage you strayed

But Tiger you’ll win if you just go get laid 
 
- Otto