They may not be the most arrogant on a literal scale, but when you compare attitude to accomplishment, they take the cake.
If you have won on the PGA, Nationwide, or any of the top International Tours, you can golf your ball and I don’t condone arrogance, but I understand and accept it.
What I am talking about is guys whose top line on their resume is a 3rd place finish in The Screen Door Open. A tournament that was played on their home course, was a one round event, they shot 69, cashed a check for $800 and think they are 8 large buckets of balls from making the Tour.
They show up to driving ranges with their Rodney Dangerfield Bag, shirt one size too small, giant white belt, sunglasses, florescent shoes, perfect set of matched irons and a flunky they can pontificate to loud enough for everyone on the range to hear how great they are (been guilty of a few of these things myself).
Well, there was one such egomaniac on the range a few days ago, hitting balls a few stalls down and I heard one of the funniest lines ever from the guy hitting balls in between us.
I normally have on my Oakley OROKR sunglasses with the music on loud enough to tune out everyone else, but this day I was listening to an audio book. I know I made fun of people with sunglasses, but I don’t wear hats and the Oakley OROKR’s allow me to listen to my ipod wireless.
Anyway, Mr. Scratch says to his flunky, “look at this massive lag I am creating. There is no one in golf who creates as much as I do. I just don’t know whether to get ready for the ReMax or Q-school.”
The line about lag was all I needed to hate him.
I won’t lie, he moved it pretty well, but not close to World class long drive and watching him hit wedges was comical. This guy probably shot 65 at his home track with all the pins in the middle of the green and convinced 10 of the guys he plays with to sponsor him. I have seen this scenario 1000 times if I have seen it once.
After really stepping on one, he almost did a Jack Hamm grunt and walked after it a few feet. “No one on this range could get within 50 yards of that.”
This pompous ass had been going on for about 15-20 before this boast of epic and idiotic proportions and the guy hitting balls in between us had by now, had his fill of this clown.
In my younger days I would have rudely corrected this fellow about the inaccuracies of his self aggrandizing. Now, I just giggle to myself almost hoping it provokes them into getting in my face.
Anyway, I had worked my way through the bag to driver, right as Mr. Scratch had hit and posed over the previously described “bomb” while he and his flunky marveled at it. It rolled about 10 yards short of a tree line that is out there about 320.
I won’t lie, I put a good rip into my first drive and I once bounced it into the tree line with some serious heat left on it. The guy hitting balls in between Mr. Scratch and myself says, “This guy in a T-shirt and tennis shoes just pissed on you. So why don’t you shut the **** up and go apply for the LPGA Q-school…maybe you can out drive some of them.”
I got a hernia trying not to laugh as I pretended to walk to my car to get something. When I came back, Mr. Scratch was gone and I had quite a nice conversation with the guy who ruined his day.