Like everyone else I was impressed — amused — by yesterday’s hole-in-one by Louis Oosthuizen. But he just got lucky is all. I’ve never felt any contact highs from golf. Those grotesque shirts, shoes, caps. An elitist sport for well-off conservatives, salesmen, clubby guys from the financial sector. A few years ago ago I met some business-affairs guy who was going to the Cannes Film Festival, but had decided to bring his golf clubs along so he could play 18 holes somewhere on the Cote d’Azur. I immediately said to myself “what an asshole.” I vaguely hate the idea that golf even exists. I respect the skills, of course, but the only time I even half-related was during that sequence in Kevin Costner‘s Tin Cup when he keeps whacking the same difficult shot and dropping the ball in a pond. I worked as a caddy a couple of times when I was 16 or 17 and I hated the vibe. If a woman tells me she plays golf, I immediately write her off.