Do me a favor right now: Drive out to your local exurb. Now, find the nearest Cheesecake Factory in that exurb, walk up to the bar, and try and spot the 40-year-old fellow wearing pleated chinos, loafers, and a button-down shirt with his real-estate company's logo on it. You see that guy? THAT is Rick Reilly's audience. THAT is the kind of bland, formless American male who falls right in ESPN's comedic sweet spot. Do you like shitty golf jokes? If you're that guy, you do. And oh, does Reilly have shitty golf jokes for you. This is his new column. An editor in 2012 read this column and approved it for publication:
Your game is awful. You shouldn't even be allowed on the golf course.
Not your golf game. Your golf talk game. It's lamer than your MySpace account.
If the joke formula of choice is, "[Subject] is [comparative adjective] than [dated reference everyone has already used]," you're in a shitty Rick Reilly column.
Time for some new gloss. Most of these are mine, some are from my derelict friends and some I just flat out stole.
Keep that in mind. Reilly couldn't even write half of these fucking things himself.
Situation: Your opponent's putt is just a little too long to give.
Old: Still some chicken left on that bone.
New: Still need to see the birth certificate, Barack.
That makes no sense.
Situation: Your buddy leaves an eight-foot birdie putt two feet short.
Old: Never up, never in.
New: Nice lag, Sammy Sosa.
Sammy Sosa hasn't played baseball since 2007. This is a NEW joke.
Situation: Your buddy crushes his drive 320.
Old: That dog will hunt!
New: I'm not attracted to men normally, but ...
But your drive was so good, I'm just gonna have to bend you over and fuck you in the ass! Because gay sex is weird and funny!
Since Reilly is clearly mailing it in until his ungodly ESPN contract finally runs out, let's rewrite some of these on his behalf. I'd hate to have him keep going around stealing gay-panic jokes from his friends.