Pat plays golf, buys his cap and gown

Ah, Masters time. Reminds me of my all-time favorite golf moments:

3. Playing… Ah, Masters time. Reminds me of my all-time favorite golf moments:

3. Playing the front nine at a local municipal course in what had to be eighth or ninth grade. I had to borrow three golf balls from my friend Steve, who also lent me his clubs. Midway through the round, I haul off and slice one that flew probably 200 yards to the right, down a steep slope. ‘You’re going to get that,’ Steve says. He tees up and hits an identical shot that also disappears down the hill. ‘OK, we’re not going to get those,’ he says and marches proudly down the fairway.

2. My first time playing a full 18 on a for-real golf course, Oyster Reef Golf Club in Hilton Head, S.C. The only club that wasn’t an iron that I hit straight at the range all morning was the hybrid that came with my set. I figured that’s a sign.

So the starter drops us off at the tee box on No. 9, and my friend Pat drives one right down the middle of the fairway. I’m up and reach for the hybrid. The starter stands and watches from the right. I take a deep breath, crank back and shank it right at the starter’s feet. He jumps, the ball whizzes by his leg, smacks against the shack and loses itself into the bushes. My three friends erupt laughing. I say I’ll just drop it when we get down the fairway.

1. Playing at a par-3 in middle school. I’m with my friends Dave and Tim playing with cheap rental clubs that we’re expected to return. I feel ambitious on the seventh, which is probably a whole 90 yards uphill. I look back at them behind me. ‘I’m going to hit it hard,’ I say. I wind back, and just before I get to the ball, Dave tosses his club in front of mine. I snap it in half with the swing.

We decide that we need to get rid of the evidence, so Tim hits one into the woods and fakes like he’s going to find his ball, only to throw the broken club away. We finish the round, leave the clubs against the shack and run away down the road. For ice cream.

– Once upon a time, Oklahoma forward Courtney Paris promised that she’d repay her four years on scholarship at the school if the Sooners didn’t win a women’s hoops national championship this year. Well, they didn’t. But guess what? The Oklahoma athletic director says, nah, she doesn’t have to pay. Well hey, I promised I would pay my whole tuition if Pitt didn’t win a national championship. And we didn’t win. Hmm? I’m waiting…

– Marcus Jordan, youngest son of Michael Jordan — the greatest basketball player ever — committed to play college hoops at Central Florida. Said Marcus’ AAU coach in an ESPN report: ‘UCF really showed him that they wanted him for more than just his name.’ Yes, his father’s name, too.

– Has anybody noticed an eerie similarity in the themes of both the Obama presidential campaign and the Pirates?

– Rankings (first place votes):

1. Opening Day — Hope. Change we can believe in.

2. The class of 2009 yearbook — Classiest class ever?

3. Pittsburgh maybe getting an Arena Football League team — I will bet anybody $50 that it would be called the Pittsburgh Power. It’s on the table.*

4. Deadliest Catch.

5. Cash Cab.

Dropped from the rankings: Paying $51 for a graduation cap and gown, the ShamWow guy, people who aren’t excited in the Cash Cab.

*Provided Pittsburgh gets an AFL team and it’s called the Pittsburgh Power.

– When 2009 ends and it becomes 2010, do you say: ‘oh-ten,’ ‘twenty-ten’ or just ‘ten?’ What did they do in 1910? Somebody ask Joe Paterno.

– WWE’s Wrestlemania 25 just happened. Don’t know how I missed that one.

– Actually, back in the day, I would have given anything to see a Wrestlemania or a Royal Rumble, maybe even a Summer Slam. One of my favorite wrestling memories was when Monday Night Raw came to town to the Mellon Arena. The Rock was fighting Kurt Angle, and Angle, a Pittsburgh native, was getting booed because he was always the bad guy. So Angle gets free and comes over to the announcer’s table and says into the microphone to the crowd: ‘What’s the matter with you people? I was born at Magee Women’s Hospital …’ Just then, the Rock smacked him down and grabbed the microphone. ‘It doesn’t matter where you were born!’ I. Freaked. Out.

– Last column next week. Get excited.

E-mail Pat at pmitsch@gmail.com.