|I was looking for a sport where|
you don't have to buy anything,
sell anything or process anything.
My chosen event this year is the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim (a/k/a the GCBS). I assume that the founder decided to put the "Great" in front of the name for the same reason that F. Scott Fitzgerald and Charles Dickens did because no one would want to swim in something just called the Chesapeake Bay Swim just like no one would have read books called "Gatsby" or "Expectations." But you throw the word "Great" into the equation and BOOM . . . sign me up. (Or maybe the founder just really thinks the Chesapeake Bay itself is "great" and the word "great" is not meant to embellish the swim . . . but I digress). The GCBS is ten weeks from this Sunday and over that time I intend to drop-in a bit of writing here and there covering why I'm doing it and how I plan to do it. At this point, I'm not entirely convinced by my answer to either question so maybe writing about it will get me there. Then again, maybe it won't and I'll just spend three hours on June 8th trying not to drowned for no discernible reason. For now, let's start with the basics of the swim itself and why I decided to write about it.
|I just shit myself a little.|
I had no intention of writing about this before I attempted it but then I was talking to a friend of mine about the swim in between Irish Car Bombs**** while watching the NFC Championship Game in January and he suggested that I should because it would be a great motivator. My first reaction to the idea was that it was utterly preposterous because what if I fail miserably and have to be fished-out of the Bay and driven back to shore in what I would imagine is referred to as the "Vessel of Shame." But then I remembered one of the great lessons I learned during law school which is that there is no greater motivator than the fear of public humiliation. So at this point, my rallying cry is "Don't Fuck This Up or You'll Look Like Jerk!" It's a work in progress.
Email the Fantasy Golf Report at firstname.lastname@example.org.
* I'm pretty sure that somewhere in the definition of the word "profession" there is a reference to payment. Yup, there it is right in the second word - "a paid occupation." So far, this is not that.
** Funny story (yeah, we'll see). In the early 90's I was in the store manager training program for Herman's Sporting Goods. (This was back in the days before the FGW made it clear that she was not going to marry a guy who ate at Sbarro everyday and worked in between the Jordan Kitts piano store and Chess King). During one part of the training, we had to do a presentation on a new product line that Herman's should start carrying and why. At the time, jousting was the official sport of the State of Maryland (that made the words "forward thinking" pop into your head didn't it?) so I thought it would be humorous to propose that we ride the jousting spirit (get it?) by carrying a full line of lances, armour, saddles, etc. Suffice it to say, it killed with my fellow trainees but not so much with the guy running the show. Fortunately, it was not exactly a bunch of cut-throat Fortune 500 executed wannabes I was up against so I don't think it impacted my standing with the company. Herman's would be run out of business by Dick's and Sports Authority two years later but I was safely in law school by then honing my wise-ass skills into revenue generating tools that would ultimately make me a worthy suitor.
|Ok ok but I'm just doing one. Really.|
**** In a related story, my decision to give-up drinking while I train has given way to what I hope is a more realistic goal of giving-up Irish Car Bombs. The over/under on when I break that pact with myself is April 13th when the final round of the Masters will surely be my Waterloo.