Golf is a four-letter word. So is fuck. When I’m on the golf course, those four-letter words go hand in hand as often as “Jack,” “Coke” and “FORE!” It’s the nature of the beast. This weekend, Tiger Woods showed us Continue reading
I lay there on my sofa early Sunday morning, flu-ridden, back aching, both contributing to my insomnia, as I fruitlessly wished for a cure for all three.
It appears we have a new blowtorch in American men’s tennis. This time around, he’s sans afro and headband.