THE JOY OF SIX: The Masters, the presidential race and the return of the Sons of Pitches

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6. How 'bout that Jordan Spieth, huh? Every time Phil Mickelson or Justin Rose or anybody else drew within a few strokes of him at the Masters, the 21-year-old Texan would birdie the next couple of holes and re-open a commanding lead. He ended up breaking a bunch of records and tying Tiger Woods' mark for best Masters score ever. Pretty impressive.

I know that I'm looking forward to many years of him dueling with Rory McIlroy, the reigning king who is only 25 himself. Then again, I remember Tiger and Sergio Garcia going toe-to-toe as youngsters in the 1999 PGA Championship at Medinah and thinking, "Wow, it's gonna be fun watching these guys go at each other for the next decade or two."

How has that worked out?

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5. At one point, CBS showed a list of the last 10 Masters champions -- reminding me that the one and only Masters I ever covered (or ever will cover) was won by the "least good" (to borrow a phrase from former Bears coach Dick Jauron) champion in decades. Maybe ever.

Despite shooting a 75 in the final round, Trevor Immelman beat a field that never really showed up. Woods tried to rally but got no closer than 3 strokes. Immelman hasn't won since and, since 2012, he has missed the cut more than he has made it. In 10 starts so far this year, he has made the cut twice.

Trevor Freakin' Immelman won "my" Masters. But hey, at least the weather was perfect and I got to see a golf course that actually exceeded my very lofty expectations.

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4. It seems almost impossible that the race for the GOP presidential nomination could top 2012 for sheer craziness, but the candidates are off to a running start.

Ted Cruz is an absolute loony, which is fitting because he was born in Canada (unlike our current Kenya-born president). Rand Paul is supposed to be a Libertarian but he already is sucking up to the far right. Chris Christie just came out with Social Security reform that looks suspiciously like a liberal re-distribution plan. Marco Rubio is backtracking from his compassionate immigration policy because to the party base, there is no room for compassion in an immigration policy.

I already miss Herman "9-9-9" Cain, Rick "Oops" Perry, Mitt "47 Percent" Romney and Newt "I Guarantee $2.50 Gas" Gingrich.

And isn't there anything anybody can do to get Michele Bachmann to run again? She just predicted that Barack Obama's Iran policy would result in the End Times and usher in Jesus' return to earth, saying: "I believe the Bible is true. And believe what the Bible says is  that our nation and the people of our nation will reap a whirlwind, and we could see economic disasters, natural disasters."

I don't remember any mention of the U.S. of A. in either testament, but I admit I'm no biblical scholar.

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3. Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton finally stopped delaying the inevitable and announced online that she would be running for the Democratic nomination.

She's a piece of work, too. She actually might be a bigger liar storyteller than her hubby.

It's gonna be a fun 17 months until November 2016.

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2. The Cubs paid $155 million to a left-hander who gets the yips every time he thinks about throwing to first to hold the runner. In Jon Lester's last start, he threw one so far over the first baseman's head it almost landed in the stands. It's the damnedest thing. So Cubbie.

Fortunately for the Cubs, the right fielder chased down the baseball and gunned the runner out at third base.

Obviously, it was a set play orchestrated by Joe Maddon, the latest Savior Skipper who for sure will take the Cubbies to the pennant.

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1. My over-50 softball league's season has begun and I'm thrilled to be back with the Sons of Pitches. Our manager/pitcher, Pat, traded for me because he knows I'm the ultimate softball stud. Either that or he just wanted to be sure he had somebody to drink with after games. (OK, I guarantee it's not the "stud" thing.)

Pat and I entered the league as teammates in 2012 and played one season with the Blue Thunder. He decided to become a manager the following year and traded for me. The Sons of Pitches capped a very nice two-year run by winning the '14 fall championship, but then in accordance with league rules, we (and all other teams) were broken up for the league-wide re-draft.

For the SoP's latest incarnation, Pat did a nice job of getting 5 of us back together, as Pat and I are joined by Bob, Spike (the other Mike) and Wayne. Our 8 teammates seem like great guys and fine players. Definitely a fun group. I'd list 'em all here by name but I'm still getting to know them.

Our season started Tuesday and we promptly gave up the maximum 5 runs in the top of the first inning. It was a delightful combination of booted grounders, errant throws, walks and other assorted miscues. We only managed one run ourselves and gave up a couple more runs over the next 3 innings to fall behind 7-1 going into the bottom of the 4th.

Pat, who fancies himself as quite the motivator, yelled, "Do you guys wanna win or what?" Duly inspired, we scratched out 3 runs to make it a 7-4 game. We held our opponent scoreless in the fifth and I led off the bottom of the inning.

While coaching third base earlier in the game, I had a brief conversation with the opposing third baseman. He had a great glove and a gun for an arm, but he told me he was having knee problems and wouldn't be able to move very well. I joked that I was going to lay down a bunt.

Now, bunting isn't allowed in slow-pitch softball ... but swinging bunts are another story. I took a mighty cut and the ball traveled all of about 15 feet down the third-base line. Using my cheetah-like speed -- I mean, there's nothing faster than a bald, slightly chunky, 50-something Jewboy -- I beat out the infield hit.

"Real" hits -- the kind that actually leave the infield -- followed, one after the other, and by the time the 5th inning was over, we had an 8-7 lead. The umpire's timer went off during the inning, meaning the 6th would be the last. Pat retired the first two batters before giving up a hit, but he stranded the tying run by inducing a come-backer. After he threw to first, it was time to head to the bar.

There's nothing wrong with winning ugly, because there's no such thing as losing pretty.

The Sons of Pitches are back, baby!
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Today's High Five: U.S. Open and other endings

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5. Martin Kaymer reminds me a lot of myself.

No, I'm not talking about his wire-to-wire victory in the U.S. Open, his incredible putting, his bunker play, his 310-yard drives, his good looks, his physique or his overflowing bank account.

I'm talking about his apparent disdain for using wedges around the greens. Like me (and many other high-handicappers), the man putts everything he possibly can.

On one hole, Kaymer could have tried a tricky chip from a tight lie over a bunker into a pin near the edge of the green. Instead, he actually putted backward through the fringe, leaving himself with a long par putt from off the green. He two-putted from there for a bogey, and seemed quite happy to get it.

With a huge lead over the field, he knew that the only way he could lose the tournament was by experiencing a few horrific holes. He knew that the best way to avoid that was to stick with the club he trusted most. I loved it because I do the exact same thing. (And not only when I am leading the U.S. Open.)

What I didn't love was Kaymer lapping the field. I dig fantastic finishes, and watching dramatic U.S. Open battles has become a Father's Day ritual. So Tiger being hurt, Phil stinking up Pinehurst, Rory failing to find any magic, Bubba missing the cut and everybody else being unwilling or unable to challenge Kaymer turned the tournament into the Who S. Open and ruined my Father's Day.

Ruined it, I say!

Actually, that's not close to being true. I had a lovely, relaxing day. Roberta, Simmie and I took a long walk and visited with some goats and a donkey at a nearby hobby farm. I saved nearly $40 on a $12 grocery store bill - I am not making this up! - and even received a $10 instant rebate for buying a $5 pie. That's right: They paid me 5 bucks for taking a key lime pie off their hands! Later, I thoroughly enjoyed the Copper River salmon I grilled on a cedar plank for dinner. (And pie for dessert!) Of course, I also took several moments to fondly recall my many happy times with my father, truly a great man.

Kaymer even saved an otherwise anticlimactic U.S. Open for me by putting from off the green - well off the green - on at least a dozen occasions.

The next time I'm playing with my buddies and they scoff at me for putting from 15 feet off the green, I'll just smile and say, "It worked for the Who S. Open champion!"

4. And speaking of anticlimactic, it sure would have been nice if the Heat had bothered showing up for the last three games of the NBA Finals.

You know what? Instead of totally ragging on the losing team, let's give a big thumbs-up to the winners.

The Spurs were the NBA's best all season and they underscored their dominance in the Finals. They are talented and savvy and well-coached and deeper than the Grand Canyon. They wore out LeBron & Co., outplayed them, outclassed them and outscored them by 20 points per game after the series was tied 1-1.

There was a lot of talk about players' legacies going into this series, specifically revolving around LeBron James and Tim Duncan.

Despite all the haters' blah-blah-blahing, LeBron's legacy is fine. He has won two titles, has carried two organizations to a total of five Finals appearances and already is one of the top 10 basketball players ever.

Duncan? You know, he's pretty good, too!

3. The U.S. Open and NBA Finals weren't the only things to end Sunday. I already miss Game of Thrones.

It might be time to put my HBO subscription on hiatus for a little while.

2. And while we're on the subject of endings, this weekend marked the end of my Little League umpiring season. 

Here in Charlotte, it is too hot and humid to make the kiddies play all summer, so they have spring and fall seasons.

I had a lot of fun in my first full season behind the plate and in the field. And hey, I only ejected one coach all year - and I let him hang around for at least three innings of whining longer than I should have.

My highlight: During a brief time-out while one of his teammates was tying a shoe, a 10-year-old catcher turned around and asked me: "Do you umpire MLB, too?"

I was so stunned, I didn't even have a clever retort. I probably even blushed. Umps don't get compliments very often, especially one quite like that!

1. The weekend's first ending, the L.A. Kings' clutch performance against the Rangers in the Stanley Cup Final, served as a happy reminder of something that happened to me 20 years earlier.

That memory actually started 21 years ago, when Wayne Gretzky and the Kings lost in the 1993 Final to the Canadiens. I was the lead hockey writer for AP back then, and my coverage earned the Will Grimsley Award for best body of work.

Flash forward to '94. This time, the Rangers were in the Final, and prevailed over the Canucks in a thrilling seven-game series to break their 54-year championship drought.

About two weeks after covering that series, Roberta and I were flown to a resort in southern California, where I received my '93 award at the Associated Press Sports Editors conference. Because I happened to be the first AP writer called to the podium, I had the stage to myself for about a minute while my peers applauded.

Twenty years later, I still consider that minute to be the pinnacle of my AP career ... and one of the great things to happen to me in what I acknowledge has been a very lucky life.
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Hoping 2012 U.S. Open comes down to Tiger-Rory playoff

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The Bald Truth

I miss Tiger. Really.

Sure, I was in awe of Rory McIlroy, both his incredible swing and his can-do demeanor. And I'll admit I was rooting for him to keep going more and more under par.

But as was the case when Tiger Woods was winning tournaments by double-digit totals, I grew a little bored as I watched McIlroy's runaway U.S. Open victory. I'll take a nail-biter of a tournament that goes down to the final putt over a record-setting rout every time.

I mean, how many times should one have to listen to Johnny Miller chuckle at the absurdity of McIlroy's near-perfect shotmaking?

McIlroy certainly looks like golf's next big thing. Wouldn't it be delicious if the sport's last big thing got healthy, got his game back and took all this adulation being heaped on McIlroy personally?

Wouldn't it be great if Tiger Woods acted like his buddy and role model, Michael Jordan, who used such challenges to motivate himself and amaze us all?

I covered the PGA Championship at Medinah in 1999, when a baby-faced Sergio Garcia almost stole the show from Woods. At the time, we all assumed we'd be treated to Sergio vs. Tiger for the next two decades. Unfortunately, Sergio lost his copy of the script.

Now that Tiger is the hunter instead of the hunted, will he be able to play his part? Can he be the Arnie to McIlroy's Jack?

Wouldn't that be something?

The Quote

"He lapped the field, and for such a young age, how mature he is." -- Jason Day

The U.S. Open runner-up is 23, an old man compared to the 22-year-old champion.

The Balder Truth

My favorite thing about McIlroy -- and there are lots of favorite things with this kid -- is how quickly he plays.

He doesn't stand there for five minutes trying to figure out how a 2 mph breeze will affect his next shot. He doesn't examine every putt from 14 different angles. He doesn't agonize for 30 seconds after every miss or pump his fist 20 times after every make. He doesn't confer with his caddie for 10 minutes and change clubs three times before addressing the ball.

He walks up to his Pro V1, hits it and gets ready for the next shot.

All of us would be wise to copy McIlroy's picture-perfect swing. All of us also are wise enough to know we can't.

One thing we can copy is his desire to play the game quickly.

The more time under 4 hours a round can take, the more time there is for the 19th hole.

Who's No. 1?

If it's too early to say for sure that it's McIlroy, we don't really know who No. 1 is. But we know who it isn't.

Luke Donald has to be one of the great pretenders in recent sports history.

THE BALDEST TRUTH

Americans aren't winning golf's majors. They aren't contending at Wimbledon, either.

Which means ... what? ... we're supposed to be ashamed to be Americans or something?

Our elected leaders do plenty to make us ashamed. What happens in our sporting venues is immaterial.

It's only sports, you know?
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