David Feherty Declares His Slightly Creepy Love For Tiger

Talk about a bromance...Feherty's Golf Magazine column continues its downward spiral trajectory. But at least this month's kind of makes sense, unlike the last one.

Goddammit, all right! I miss the useless bastard—there, I've written it! I miss the different noise he makes when he hits one harder, I miss all the crap that comes out of the ground when he's buried in the rough, I miss the twirl of the club and the little leg kick he makes after the shots he and I both know are going to end up stitched to the damned flag, I miss the sarcastic rim shots he mumbles at me with the bill of his cap down so the camera can't pick them up, and yes, I miss seeing the unbearably beautiful Elin too, bless the loveliness of her face and the sweetness of her heart. Holy crap, I think I even miss Stevie Williams! What the hell is wrong with me? Screw everyone else, this is a personal disaster! Can't we all just buy the world a Coke and move on?