It's by the Golf Boys, a musical supergroup made up of PGA Tour players Ben Crane, Rickie Fowler, Hunter Mahan, and (world's most interesting man finalist) Bubba Watson.
This video: "2.Oh."
It's named that because their first hit single was titled "Oh Oh Oh." That's why this one's called "2.Oh," because it's like the sequel or something.
The following are the official lyrics of "2.Oh," provided by the Golf Boys camp. And it was sent via Word document, so you know it's official. Interspersed between the lyrics are pictures of Bubba Watson doing a perfect "drunkest girl at the party"/"huge liability if he decides to crash our wedding reception" impression.
Tuesday night, I found myself with a group of fellow writers and assorted vagabonds at a Tucson Steakhouse called Lil Abner's. It was one of those rustic meat-and-potato joints with long wooden tables, no formal menu, and rusted barn relics hanging on the walls. (If it's any recommendation, John Daly used to park his bus out back during tournament week and spend every night inside.) Seven men sat at the table to my left. Two of them, Rory McIlroy and Graeme McDowell, were famous golfers from Northern Ireland. Four were civilians, agents and caddies. The seventh was a lesser-known quantity — a pudgy 25-year-old Irishman named Shane Lowry, whose claim to fame was winning the Irish Open in 2009, and who sneaked into the WGC-Accenture Match Play Championship field because someone else sunk a putt at Pebble Beach two weeks ago. As the 64-seed, lowest in the field, his first-round opponent would be the best golfer in the world, a man with whom he was currently sharing dinner.
At the end of their meal, the seven wrote their names on slips of paper and placed them in an empty glass. When the waitress came by, she drew the names out one by one. They were playing roulette, and the last three names in the glass would be responsible for the bill. McDowell cheered loudly when his name was pulled. The waitress drew another slip. "Rorrrry," she read, the way you'd coo over a child. The cheers grew louder. "Shane?" she said next. Laughter and more cheers. Consternation from the civilians; none of the golfers would be paying. Two days later, at least one of them would have to lose.
The list of things I love about the Ryder Cup is so long that it could fill a (tedious) novel, and golf fans can probably guess most of them. But if I had to narrow that list down to one abstract thought … well, I'd probably say that even though I enjoy competitive pressure and believe that I'd be a total gamer if destiny had made me a pro athlete instead of a human tree trunk, I know — I know — I'd fold like an accordion at the Ryder Cup.
It's just too intense. The innate pressure of golf, the way it punishes even a slight error, is compounded in the Ryder Cup by the responsibility each player has to his team, and country. I've been watching the event since I was young, and I associate those weekends with a feeling of nausea and dread. Disaster waits with every shot. Top players, like Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods, find themselves at the mercy of forces beyond their control. The code of politeness between players is shelved for three days, replaced by cruel stare-downs and gamesmanship and cutting remarks. The captains obsess over strategies, broad and minute, then watch helplessly from golf carts as everything spins out of their control. The spectators, usually so staid and proper at golf tournaments, are boisterously singing, vicious, and drunk.
In short, it's the greatest damn event in sports. And the 2012 edition begins today.
In case you were out living a life of leisure, here's what you missed in sports on Tuesday.
The Miami Marlins suspended manager Ozzie Guillen five games for positive comments he made about Cuban dictator Fidel Castro. Right before Guillen went out to address the media, a frantic PR person desperately tried to convince him to take off the green military cap and lose the cigar. "Oh come onnnn," said Guillen. "It'll be hilarious!" When the items were confiscated, he frowned and began to think.
Since Bubba Watson won the Masters, he's been on an absolute tear with regard to how he's living his life. You have to love this guy, because he's doing exactly what any normal person would do if they won a green jacket.
Overtime is an interesting phenomenon. There's no way to go into a sporting event expecting it. If you think about it, two teams or individuals getting the exact same score, be it over 48 minutes, nine innings, or four days, is kind of crazy. Anyway, for the invested sports fan, this whole overtime thing usually becomes a point of great stress. Yes, if your team was down and fought back, then you're ecstatic, because at the very least, you have the momentum going into extra time. But it's still stressful. For someone who is simply a fan of sports and has no real investment in the competitors, teams, or event, however, there's nothing better.
One of my earliest basketball memories is going to an Atlanta Hawks game at the Omni (RIP), watching the game go to overtime, and hearing a guy behind me and my mother stand up and scream, "FREE BASKETBALL." That's always stuck with me, because that's exactly what it is. Extra sports weren't included in the original package, and essentially, this additional time spent watching the game was on the house.
There were two opportunities to catch free sports on Sunday. Due to a weird cocktail of high theatrics and Carmelo Anthony, the New York Knicks rallied late to force overtime against the Chicago Bulls. And down at Augusta National, Louis Oosthuizen and Bubba Watson forced a playoff at the Masters.
In case you were out living a life of leisure, here's what you missed in sports over the weekend.
Bubba Watson shot a final round 68 and defeated Louis Oosthuizen on the second playoff hole with an excellent iron from the rough to win the Masters. He wept after he made the shot, which marks the first time in history that a "Bubba" has cried over something other than a raccoon getting into the fried chicken. He later chuckled about his tears, which was the first time a Bubba has laughed at something other than an old Hee Haw episode on Betamax.
Oosthuizen hit a double eagle on the second hole Sunday — only the fourth time that feat has been accomplished at the Masters, and the first on television — and the fan who ended up with the ball, Wayne Mitchell, returned it to Augusta National. Neither side would discuss the terms of the deal they made, but it was curious that when Mitchell left the course, he was wearing a green jacket, and a furious Arnold Palmer was chained to a radiator in Butler Cabin.
