The story on the eve of one of the greatest golfing tourneys in the world is not really if Tiger can win his 15th major. It doesn't center on Tiger and his rebuilt robo-knee. Its not about Tiger and the beast that is Bethpaige.
The story is Amy Mickleson. Amy was diagnosed with cancer recently, and in response Phil decided to stay at home. But then Phil made a return and today said that his wife would like to have a trophy in her hospital room while she takes on the mother load of all diseases.
Imagine that. Your wife basically calls you out. Um honey, help me pack my things, oh and by the way, this weekend, go win me that nice shiny trophy that you have never seemed to win before. I want it in my room while I am battling cancer.
Makes me have trouble swallowing, imagine Phil. I am not going to put Phil on the coals like I usually do. I'm not gonna talk about the nickname, or the sudden loss in swing.
I wish nothing but the best for him, and a clean bill of health for his wife Amy. Having lost my mother from this very same disease, I know, although not my wife, what they must be going through.
So if you are a fan of golf, if you are a remote control passerby this weekend and land on the coverage. Be prepared. This is going to play over and over. And rightfully so. Hopefully some serious money can be raised this weekend and send it to the Susan G Komen foundation and they in turn can fund more research.
So with that Mr. Woods, no matter what. The story will be the Mickleson's. Something tells me however, he wouldn't even mind.
So long story short. I root for Tiger. I root for others too, I rarely root for Phil. Given the situation, I will be pulling for lefty. And to me, if he doesn't win it all, but keeps it together enough to finish, I will forever be impressed with.
Good luck to you Phil, and good health to Amy.
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