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Every once in a while I do something really stupid. In this case, it was to accept my friend Jeff Thomas‘ invitation to play in a celebrity-amateur golf tournament. (Just to be clear, I’m the amateur; Emmitt Smith is the celebrity in our foursome.)

“It is totally relaxed,” Jeff said. “The celebrities play in a televised NBC tournament on the weekend, but the Thursday round that we play with them is nothing.”

I used to be a decent golfer, but now I don’t play much at all. I rarely get to see Jeff, though, so I figured this could be fun. Unfortunately, I showed up today, and things are not quite as I expected. Even for the practice round the day before the celebrity-am event, there are throngs of people everywhere. The adoring fans approach anyone who looks like they might be an athlete and ask for their signature. I brought my Sharpie, but so far no one has confused me with a celebrity. Maybe I should reinstate my old $100 bounty offer. I’ve heard that tomorrow, the grandstands will be full. It does not bode well for my yips.

I’ve always wanted to spray an errant shot into the gallery and get a fortuitous bounce back towards the fairway. If things go well tomorrow, I can live out that dream.