Finally, I can board Jordan Spieth bandwagon. I stole the keys, filled the tank half way up and I’m driving the Under Amrour emblazoned chariot down the road. You may ask yourself why only a half tank Admin? Simple answer, I don’t know how far this impulsive change of heart will take me. But am I excited? You bet. Will I regret dropping all my responsibilities to captain the Spieth train for the rest of the summer? Jury is still out on that one (probably yes). As for now, I got the sweet sound of one direction pumping through the speakers, a case of Redbull and the wheels are rolling down the highway to Quail Hollow for the 2017 PGA Championship. Figuratively speaking of course.

This sudden change in my spirit, like a hypnotist snapping you back into consciousness, can be accredited to Jordan delivering yet another effortless tap. Only this time not on the putting surface, but in the locker room. Where men can behave like men.

Although Spieth’s action was swift and silent, it spoke volumes and more personally, it spoke to me as a man. As if James Earl Jones was narrating my thoughts saying “accept him, he has shown his true form” as I sat there on my couch. After coming back into full awareness, feeling like I had been in a dream state. I said to myself in the way a detective has a revelation that solved a case, “Jordan Spieth is a Bro”. Delivered slowly, questioning the words as they came out of my mouth. I said it twice, not believing my original discovery. Then I sat there, alone, feeling guilt for lumping him in with Bubba Watson on my “most hated personality in golf ” list. I was remorseful, confused and hunger was staring to set in. It was the longest fifteen seconds of my life. And I can’t hold my breathe under water very long.

Now that I am done playing out some weird scenario, where James Earl Jones is narrating my thoughts, lets get to my real take. In all honesty, Spieth had always rubbed me the wrong way. There was just a certain something, almost intangible about his demeanor that just required me with every part of my being to root against him. I want to say it was almost Bubba Watson esque, but that would be unfair to Bubba. He deserves his own level of hate that nobody could possibly equal. In Jordan’s case admittedly, it was undeserved. I don’t know if it was the way he would wince after a bad shot, or the fact that he looks like the before picture in a Bosley Medical commercial. I just don’t know.

What I do know is that it is awesome to see golfers break out of their country club personality every once and a while and just be a dude. That would probably explain why SB2k17 with Spieth, Fowler and Smiley Kaufma  was so popular among the younger golf crowd. Lighten up a little, have fun, give your buddy a sack tap, win trophies and move on.

Grilled cheese sandwich. That is what I ate when the hunger set in while sitting there on my couch. Love you guys.