That Is One Smokin' Golf Swing

A golfer in California has a game so hot, it started a wildfire.

The reality of what happened to the poor, unnamed duffer is that he hit a rock during a swing and the resultant sparks ingnited a blaze that, according to the AP source in the article, covered 25 acres.

As Jay Busbee of Yahoo!'s Devil Ball Golf blog points out, "This is going to inspire a raft of bad Sportscenter-esque 'When we say he set the course on fire, he really set the course on fire!' jokes."  Well, of course it is! This is like your birthday and Christmas present rolled into one. Frankly, this sort of thing deserves some really bad jokes. I didn't even bother looking at the comments section for the article, in case someoine beat me to one of these.

• Ball before rock, dude. Ball before rock.
• As it turns out, starting a fire is a two-stroke penalty.
• Playing the course was on his bucket list. Apparently, it took 1000 buckets to pour out the fire.
• If only the guy was near a sand trap.  With his swing he could have buried that fire in under 3 strokes.
• On the bright side, the golfer was a Boy Scout. He got his fire-starting merit badge out of the deal.
• It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't double-bogied the hole.
• Can Tiger's year get any worse?
• Nice shot Johnny Blaze! Next time ride your freakin' flaming golf cart to the tennis courts, willya?
• The sad part is, 20 minutes after they put out the fire the course sprinklers came on.
• You know you've had a bad round when the firefighters have to play through.
• Make you kinda long for the good old days of wooden clubs.
• Good thing this guy's ball didn't land next to some uranium.

Erin Go Bragh! In Person

The Fandos are going on holiday to Ireland.

Feel free to read that back a few times to let it settle in your head. I know I have.

I intend to post on the details soon but the most amazing part of the process is researching and booking the trip. The Internet listings and prices change positions faster than the Obama Administration, often as you're checking flights. The phone agents are polite but I got disconnected twice before even reaching them. It's that moment of anticipation followed by the disconnection sound on the cell phone that's so heartbreaking.

Nonetheless, it's done. We'll be staying right next to a Manor house (or castle, as some are wont to put it). There's an excellent golf course on the grounds. It's so excellent it's hosting the Irish Open this year (again) and is thus beyond the ole' budget, unless I resort to some midnight gonzo golf. Where did I put those night-vision goggles?

A castle, pubs, Guinness, an economy rental car, bangers, champ, colcannon, Irish bacon, a long transatlantic flight with a change-over at JFK, and a picaresque village next door. Perfect.

And of course, I intend to post from Eire. Maybe. If I get the chance. I'll give it a shot. Promise.

That St. Patrick's Day post is starting to feel quite real...