Alas, it is once again time for my annual rites of spring.
The first is wistfully watching what used to be the greatest drama in sports, my beloved Masters, which is being turned into just another long, boring U.S. Open venue.
The second is angrily shelling out $400 or $500 for a new driver.
Make that my wrongs of spring.
My beloved golf has sold out to the companies that are making fortunes off the nuclear clubs and rocket balls we're forced to buy if we want ...
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