Fantasy Golf: The Players Championship Preview

So here's an idea. If you want your event to be considered top shelf in a sport where the fanbase is overwhelmingly comprised of dudes, then don't schedule your final fucking round on Mother's Day. For those of us fortunate enough to be near a TV late on Sunday afternoon and not stranded out at some failed farm that's been turned into a soon to be failed vineyard having a picnic of assorted overpriced gourmet grocery store crap, it's still going to make for a logistical nightmare as we watch ten DVR'd minutes at a time while pretending to make dinner, plant flowers and yelling at our kids to "MAKE THIS DAY SPECIAL!"

"Can someone pass the
goose shit hummus?"

Seriously, this is the PGA Tour's event so they make the damn schedule and they put the final round on the one day of the year when watching golf at 5:00 p.m. is a borderline sin? It's bad enough when the Master's ends on Easter Sunday but at least by the time the back nine starts, brunch is over, Christ has risen and any eggs that haven't been found ain't gonna be found until they start rotting under the couch (note to new parents: always do Easter egg hunts outside . . . even if it's raining). 

And don't get me started on the thanks for nothing situation that is the U.S. Open on Father's Day. I'm going to watch it whether you put it on "my" day or not but now you've made it weird because the true underlying insidious expectation of Father's Day is that you should spend it celebrating your relationships with your kids by playing a four hour game of catch or building a go-kart out of the leftover wood from the unfinished treehouse. So basically it's supposed to be a more sentimental version of the other 364 days of the year. Fuck that. I'm watching golf and eating a cheeseburger. Everyone else can do whatever makes them think I'm special. End of rant.

The FGR has decided to
conduct an independent
Russian investigation.

It has been well-documented that I think The Players' claim of being the fifth major is beyond soft due to the quality of the golf course (more on that later this week), the caliber of its past champions and the fact that there will never be a "fifth major." However, the tournament has had a good run of late thanks to victories by Jason Day, Rickie Fowler, Martin Kaymer, Tiger Woods and Matt Kuchar. It's almost enough to make us forget that Stephen Ames, Fred Funk and Craig Perks took the title in one five year stretch and that Tim Clark made it one of his two career victories in 2010. But it's still the golf tournament equivalent of Matt Ryan walking into a room with Tom Brady, Peyton Manning, Ben Roethlisberger and Russell Wilson and asking, "you guys telling Super Bowl stories?"  

The Players does have one redeeming quality - the best field in golf. And what that means from a wagering standpoint is that there is value in the mid to low range from recent winners like Kuchar ($7,900) and Kaymer ($,7300) to major winners like Zach Johnson ($7,200) and Jimmy Walker ($7,200) who have proven that they can negotiate Sawgrass' quirks and idiosyncrasies (that's me trying to be diplomatic like when I describe certain people as being quirky and idiosyncratic when what I mean is that they're more annoying than babies on planes).

The tricky part about picking The Players is at the top because, since 2009, only three guys have finished 5th or better more than once - Rickie Fowler, Sergio Garcia and Ben Crane. If you've already used Rickie and Sergio and you're not expecting a career resurrecting experience for Crane, then your next best bets from the upper echelon are Rory McIlroy who has gone  T12, T8, T6 and T8 over the last four years and defending champ Jason Day though who knows where his head is right now (or ever)? 

As of this moment, I'm torn between Rory and Justin Thomas who finished 3rd last year. Both have the length and high ball flight to take advantage of the par fives and shorten other holes where the big hitters can cut corners. I'm leaning towards Rory because it seems like every top player wins this thing once and, if I keep picking him every year, eventually I'm going to be right (said the guy who lost everything at the roulette table). Fuck it. After two consecutive missed cuts, I need to make a splash. Just hope it's not a belly flop.

This could take some time.

One and Done Pick: Rory McIlroy         

Rory McIlroy	$11,200
Sergio Garcia	$10,200
Rickie Fowler	$9,300
Justin Thomas	$8,900
Matt Kuchar	$7,900
Martin Kaymer	$7,300
Jimmy Walker	$7,200
Zach Johnson	$7,200
Shane Lowry	$6,900
Luke Donald	$6,800

Email the Fantasy Golf Report at fgr@fantasygolfreport.com and follow us on Twitter @FantasyGolfRep. 

Fantasy Golf: Wells Fargo Championship Preview

So I was a little late getting the memo that the Wells Fargo Championship wouldn't be played at Quail Hollow this year which basically means that I have no idea who to pick. So what's a slumping prognosticator to do? I'm going to get the fuck back to basics and find some value, that's what I'm going to do. That starts with the obvious pick of Jon Rahm at the top because he's earned "hey dumbass, pick me every week" status until proven otherwise. Conversely, we're going to bench D.J. until we're sure everything is ok after his "fluke" injury.*

For our one and done pick, we're going with the gritty Kevin Kisner who's game plays anywhere so it might as well here (wherever the hell "here" is). Not to mention, Kisner is a fellow practitioner of motivation through miserable body language and resting bitch face so he's always been an FGR favorite. (Stop telling me to have fun. I AM HAVING FUCKING FUN!!!).

The rest of the crew is made-up of reliable dudes, some of whom have slipped into undervalued territory like William McGirt, Zach Johnson and Shane Lowry - ZJ in particular. He's been slumping since February and two months is about as long as he's going to stay down before he and the Lord will him to a top ten. (That is not intended as a slight. If anyone is going to convince me to get more God in my golf game, it's that nails grinding SOB).         

And that's all I got this week. Now I'm off to play tennis because, in a week where I've already jumped on a trampoline, headed a soccer ball and almost ripped my abdomen in half trying to demonstrate a gymnastics move to my kids in the kitchen, I figure I might as well finish the job by shredding my elbow and shoulder after not having picked a racket up in eight months. The lesson as it always has been and always will be . . . I'm an idiot.

I actually LOVE tennis. (Ha! See
what I did there? Can you honestly
believe you get this shit for free?)

The One and Done Pick: Kevin Kisner

The DraftKings Top Ten Value Picks

John Rahm	$11,000
Paul Casey	$9,900
Bill Haas	$9,500
Kevin Kisner	$8,400
William McGirt	$7,900
Jim Furyk	$7,800
Zach Johnson	$7,400
Kevin Tway	$7,200
Shane Lowry	$6,900
Harold Varner, III	$6,300

Footnote

* I've successfully negotiated the hardwood steps in my house while wearing socks twenty-seven times since the Masters. Just sayin'. 

Fantasy Golf: The Zurich Classic Preview

You have to hand it to the folks at the Zurich Classic for coming-up with a way to make one of the Tour's most ignorable events interesting by turning it into a two-man affair. It went from an event with a couple of headliners that I might watch twenty minutes of on Sunday to one with twelve of the best players in the world that will now grab my attention for parts of four days. Well played gentlemen. Treat yourself to an extra beignet this weekend. 

So who's gonna win? Well the obvious pick would be the team of Justin Rose and Henrik Stenson especially considering that Rose is one of the "A" list players who actually has a strong track record at TPC Louisiana with a win in 2015, a tie for 8th in 2014 along with two other top 20's. Right behind them would be the team of Jason Day and Rickie Fowler with Day finishing 5th last year and 4th in 2014. 

Her name is Tori Slater and
you should google that.

I am, however, reluctant to use a top tier player in a somewhat gimmicky format on a gimmicky course so instead, I'm hedging a bit and going with Daniel Berger for three reasons: (1) He likes the course having finished T20th last year and T6th in 2014; (2) he's partnered with Ryder Cup stud Thomas Pieters and (3) so I have an excuse to post a picture of his girlfriend (didn't see that coming). 

If you're looking for a team that might excel sheerly by getting under everyone else's skin, then look no further than the combo of Bryson DeChambeau and Rory Sabbatini (think Marmalard and Niedermeyer). And if you're looking for a darkhorse pick, check-out Jason Dufner and Patton Kizzire. Dufner won the damn thing in 2012 and Kizzire finished T8th last year.

But that's not the real reason I brought-up Dufner. It was really just a cheap segue into a brief commentary on what he did at the RBC Heritage the week before last.  During the final round, he missed about a four foot putt by a mile, made the next one and then proceeded to drop his putter in disgust on the spot and leave it there for his caddie to retrieve. If you haven't seen the video, here you go:

Definitely the club drop of the week. pic.twitter.com/fPy4chvkf3

— Skratch (@Skratch) April 16, 2017

Somehow a debate ensued on-line (of course it did) over whether this was a dick move or not. Those who said it was not pointed-out that Dufner's caddie had to put the flagstick back anyway so he was going to be right there and that's what he gets paid for. Others speculated that maybe he gave Dufner a bad read on the first putt. 

Allow me to offer the perspective of someone who has had the occasional issue with caddies and has spent many a back nine looking over his shoulder to make sure he's not about to get a freshly cleaned sand wedge buried in the back of his skull. What Dufner did was a serious dick move and, if you don't think it was a dick move, then there's a good chance that you're a dick.

You can give a caddie the stink eye, openly question his read or even take your club over and slam it down on your bag but don't embarrass him by just nonchalantly dropping it in the middle of the green and walking away. That would be like sitting in a meeting full of people, throwing an apple core at the trash can, missing and then telling your assistant to go pick it up. That's some degrading fraternity pledge level shit right there. Next thing you know Dufner's going to tell his caddie he's got to guzzle a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 and then fuck a goat which really isn't as bad as . . . hmmm nevermind.     

Email the Fantasy Golf Report at fgr@fantasygolfreport.com.   

The Time We Had a Baby in the Bathtub

Sixteen years ago today my first son was born and three days after that I sat down to write the requisite email announcement to friends and family (this was the pre-Facebook era). The circumstances surrounding the birth had been unique and, by the time I finished explaining them, I had composed a four page timeline that would ultimately be published in the November 2001 issue of Baltimore Magazine. With a few minor exceptions, I didn't do any writing for the next ten years until I decided to turn the weekly updates I did for my fantasy golf league into whatever this website has become. It's kind of a Roy Hobbs tale minus the gunshot wound (not that I haven't begged the world to "shoot me now" a few times since then).

"People don't start writing at
your age mister. They retire."

I revise and re-post this periodically because (a) it makes me happy, (b) every time I re-read it I cringe at something that I have to fix and (c) it's a lot easier than coming-up with something new to write about. Also, my self-aggrandizing writing style demands that I reference it repeatedly so I want to keep it fresh. Without further ado, here are the events that led-up to and occurred on the most bizarre and surreal day of my life.

Friday, April 20th

4:00 p.m. - The Fantasy Golf Wife (the "FGW") calls me at work and tells me, "I think my water just broke." She apparently is not sure, however, and tells me she'll call back in an hour to give me an update. This message is delivered in a tone similar to one she might use if she were calling to tell me that we may need a new faucet for the kitchen sink. I spend the next hour feigning composure by reading and re-reading the same sentence 73 times.

5:00 p.m. - Still no verdict on whether the water has officially broken.

5:45 p.m. - I arrive home and begin frantically preparing for the trip to the hospital. It is officially 13 days before the due date and the sudden urgency of the situation has made me think of a few things that need to be done, like maybe buying at least one diaper.

6:20 - The FGW saunters in having evidently decided that the gravity of the situation should in no way prevent her from doing some last minute shopping.

6:45 p.m. - We spend the next few hours preparing for the hospital: packing food for the extended labor, picking-out CD's (14 of them) for the stereo in the labor room, choosing the coming home outfit for the baby . . . I won't give away the ending but I this was all a colossal waste of time.

Saturday, April 21st

10:30 a.m. - We pay a visit to the midwife, Kelly. (Yes we used a midwife. We're country club crunchy). Kelly tells us that the water is not fully broken but there is a "high leak" which I know was not covered in the birthing class. Apparently under these circumstances, labor could start today or it could be two weeks. I comment that it's just like waiting for the cable company. No one laughs. We are told that one way to kick-start labor would be to take some castor oil. Sounds like witchcraft to me but as long as I don't have to do it, why not?

"We're teeing off
at noon bro."

1:00 p.m. - I take the car to have the baby seat installed by a fireman (these are the odd things you do when you're having your first baby). If nothing else, I figure that by driving 30 minutes from home, I will definitely induce labor.

4:00 p.m. - The FGW starts feeling mild irregular contractions but nothing worth noting. I start to wonder whether she even knows what a contraction feels like. I joke that "we're going to wake up with the baby in bed with us."* (These are the first of a series of famous last words which will be denoted with an *).

11:00 p.m. - We go to bed still in limbo.

Sunday, April 22nd

11:00 - 1:00 - More witchcraft as we spend two hours walking around the harbor in the hopes of inducing labor. I should have taken more time to appreciate this day because it was the last time I didn't have to do anything before 11:00 a.m.

1:30 p.m. - Another dose of caster oil.

3:30 p.m. - The FGW decides to go shopping for a couple of hours. I have a scary premonition and tell her to be back in 45 minutes. It was one of the few smart moves we made that day.

4:45 p.m. - The water officially breaks but at this point we think little of it. I for one am not going to be duped into a panic by the old "my water just broke" trick. Besides, I've settled into watching a fairly compelling Lakers-Blazers playoff game.

5:00 p.m. - The FGW takes a dose of primrose oil, another natural elixir to induce labor. I voice my skepticism over these natural methods.*

6:00 p.m. - The FGW starts to feel regular contractions.

6:46 p.m. - We start timing the transactions but the FGW is "not sure I'm in labor."*

7:45 p.m. - An hour of contractions four minutes apart and we call the midwife. She tells us we've got several hours* and she'll call back in thirty minutes to check in on us.

8:00 p.m. - I start loading up the car. The FGW attempts to blow dry her hair and put on make-up between contractions which are getting closer together and more intense making this an increasingly difficult task as she periodically has to turn off the hairdryer and double over in pain. Neither one of us take this as a sign that we should probably be in the car. This is not the blind leading the blind. This is the stubborn leading the stupid.

"Turn off the damn TV
and get that woman
to a hospital!"

8:15 p.m. - The FGW gets into the bathtub to ease the pain of the contractions which are getting even more intense. I am told in no uncertain terms to stop asking, "are you having one now?"

8:32 p.m. - I start timing contractions again which are now anywhere from one and half and two minutes apart. At this point I am wondering why no one has told me that it is time to go to the hospital. Instead of doing something proactive, I put on my bathing suit because I assume at some point I'm going to have to help the FGW out of the tub when we finally decide it's time to go.

8:40 p.m. - The FGW informs me that I am wearing the "loudest" bathing suit she has ever heard. I change into shorts.

8:52 p.m. - The intensity of the labor pains increases and I'm thinking that no one could endure several more hours of this.*

9:00 p.m. - Suddenly, the moans that accompany the labor pains turn into an otherworldly howl followed by these words, "I can feel him coming. Call Kelly and tell her I can't make it to the hospital and that I'm having him here." I am in denial because this is not happening.

9:04 p.m. - I call Kelly who advises me to tell the FGW that she can make it to the hospital and that I need to get her in the car.

9:05 p.m. - The howls continue. The FGW tells me that she can't stop pushing. The gravity of the situation is beginning to dawn on me. The FGW tells me to call Kelly back and tell her she needs to come to our house and that I need to be "forthright" with her. I find myself impressed by her mastery of the vocabulary at this point. I call Kelly and she tells me her location. My brain is working fast enough to compute that she is at least 30 minutes away . . . and the baby isn't.

9:08 p.m. - I run to the house of the labor-delivery nurse who lives next door. She had told us earlier in the day, "if you need anything I'll be home all night."* I pound on the door but of course there is no answer.

9:09 p.m. - I run back into the bathroom and the FGW says she can feel the head coming out. She then tells me that everything is going to be okay and that we can do this. I marvel at her calmness at this point. Unfortunately, I share none of it.

9:11 p.m.. - Kelly calls back and asks me if "the perineum is bulging." I actually know what this means and I also know that we are way past that point. In the most "forthright" way I know how, I tell her we can't make it to the hospital and the baby is on his way. (I think I actually said "No hospital . . . baby . . . head. . . bathtub.")

9:13 p.m. - The FGW tells me she can feel the head coming. Kelly tells me to grab some "old towels." I grab every towel we own and throw them indiscriminately on the bathroom floor.

9:14 p.m. - Kelly tells me to get the FGW out of the tub which is still full of water. (
Apparently 1 second old babies can't swim). Not in possession of her normal agility at the moment, my wife cannot get out of the tub. Kelly tells me to pull the plug and drain out the water. I curse myself for not thinking of that.

9:15 p.m. - The FGW stands-up, and between screams, announces that the head is out and tells me that I should be ready to catch the rest of him. At this point, I am well aware that the head is out because it is resting in the palm of my hand. Kelly asks me if the cord is wrapped around his neck. It is, of course, and Kelly tells me to flip it over his head, which I do. The word "DISASTER" begins flashing in my head.

"This is a goddamn waste of
time.There's no way he can
deliver that baby."

9:17 p.m. - As the FGW is struggling to stand-up out of the water, the rest of the baby is delivered. I catch him above the water that is still in the tub. The FGW actually utters the words "what a relief" and steps out of the tub. The baby is quiet and blue (not exactly the combination I was hoping for) and for several of the longest seconds of my life I experience a level of fright that I had never approached as I stand in my bathroom holding my motionless and silent son.

9:18 p.m. - Finally the baby (the "FGB") lets out a cry and some color starts to appear. I am experiencing a very mild sense of relief. Kelly tells me to get the baby to my wife's chest and wrap them in towels. In what is the first moment of the experience during which I can remember being mildly amused, I realize that I am standing behind the FGW and that she and the baby are still attached to each other. I do a reverse football snap and hand the baby to her through her legs. At this point my wife is calm but a little unstable and she drops him so that I get to catch him for the second time. (Note my line for the night: 2 catches, 1 yard, no touchdowns). I pass him back to the FGW who hangs on this time and pulls him up to her chest. Aside from the fact that it was taking place in our bathroom, the scene of mother and baby together looks completely natural.

9:19 p.m. - At this point the FGW appears eerily calm to me but is in fact glowing with joy and has the presence of mind to tell me to put towels down in the hallway so we won't stain the carpet on the way to the bedroom. I am in no condition to argue. For the first time, however, I notice that the bathroom looks like a crime scene and the amount of blood on the floor instantly takes me right out of my comfort zone.

9:20 p.m. - Mother and baby slowly make their way down the hall to the bedroom as I race to put towels down in front of them. The amazing thing is that, after what we have just been through, the vision of my wife and 3 minute old child coming down the hall has almost no shock value whatsoever. At this point I am infinitely more concerned with getting someone, anyone, to my house who is qualified to look at this situation and tell me everything is okay.

9:23 p.m. - The FGW and the FGB climb into bed and I cover them with beach towels because my wife doesn't want to ruin the new sheets and blankets we had just bought for our well orchestrated return from the hospital.

"Oh the stork was here
alright. . . and he left a
very messy note." 

9:24 p.m.- I hang-up with Kelly who says she will be there soon. I then run across the street to get our friend Jen who is a nurse. When her husband answers the door I say, "Andy is Jen here, because we just had this baby in our bathtub." Jen comes out of nowhere and sprints past me through the door.

9:25 p.m. - Jen checks out the baby while repeating the phrase "you guys are freaks" (like we did this on purpose). Andy calls another neighbor who is more of an infant specialist. Apparently we live in a good spot for our current predicament but I had run to the wrong house. I make a mental note to collect beeper numbers before we do this again.

9:27 p.m. - Jen informs us that it's a boy, a fact that had gotten completely lost in the shuffle.

9:30 p.m. - The FGW calls her mother (the "FGMIL?") who has an understandably difficult wrapping her mind around the circumstances of the birth.

9:35 p.m. - The infant specialist arrives and she and Jen call the hospital for some guidance. They tie off the cord with some dental floss (nice to finally find a use for that).

9:50 p.m. - Kelly finally arrives and tends to the FGW. For the first time all night I feel a mild sense of relief.
10:05 p.m. - I ceremonially cut the cord and climb into bed with my new family.

10:10 p.m. - Still wired from the evening's events, I jump back out of the bed and start cleaning the house. (On the video I look like I just shot-gunned seven Red Bulls).

10:20 p.m. - Family members arrive and set-up in the living/waiting room.

Monday, April 23rd

1:00 a.m. - Everyone goes home and the three of us go to bed.

5:00 a.m. - I stop shaking.

Email the Fantasy Golf Report at fgr@fantasygolfreport.com.