A Peene tradition unlike any other....

The Masters has always been the sporting event I look forward to most on a yearly basis. Why? Because it is timeless. It represents a generation and a time where sport was not dominated by corporate logos which make our golfers look like they are a Nextel Cup Monte Carlo. Beers are still $1.25 and not $9. Sandwiches are $1 and good...not $12 and stuffed with mystery-meat. When the azaleas come out to bloom, Augusta National Country Club takes center stage. And this weekend, it truly is the perfect storm, as there is nothing greater than sitting, surrounded by your family at around 6 pm in a tryptophian induced state hoping to see Tiger and Phil (or Phil and Tiger) 1st and 2nd on the leader-board trading shots for sports ultimate individual prize: the Green Jacket.

Five years ago, I wrote a commentary in The Daily Targum regarding the "de-genderization of Augusta". Feminist activist Martha Burk had tried to hijack the 2003 Masters with protests and shenanigans that only an ACORN fan would love. In my column, I tried to illustrate that Hootie Johnson and the club weren't a caucus of "He-Man Woman Haters", but exercising the free-will of a club...chauvinistic or not. If you want a blast from my past, click the link above. I've mellowed a little since then. It was in Randy Pausch's book The Last Lecture in which he categorizes individuals into two categories: "Tiggers" and "Eeyores". (I am not going to get into the details because if you haven't read it yet, I can guarantee that it is among the most awe-inspiring books you will read, and then use as a guide for your life.) But I think in the world of golf (and maybe even life), you're either a Tiger or a Phil. While you can respect both immensely, you can only relate to one.

In my history. I can relate to Phil. So therefore, I like to think I'm a Phil He smiles a lot. He's happy-go-lucky. He's a risk-taker. And of course he chokes. (as per my baseball post, you can see "choking" has been a theme in my sports career...must be the Mets thing) My brother is a Tiger. He's the hardest-worker I know. He's a physical specimen. And historically on the golf course (and in law school) he comes through when the pressure is the greatest.

The brothers Peene are a competitive bunch, especially when it comes to sports. We have the same skill-set, we've just been given different God-given ways to employ them. After all, he is a little taller, a little more graceful...I'm much more of the "win at all costs" type. During my basketball days, I played shooting guard with the physical mentality of a power-forward. (My sister, a 3 time all-county basketball star during her high school years, still will not play me...I think she's afraid) 4 years ago we were golfing at Fiddler's Elbow. Going into the last hole, I had a 3 stroke lead on my brother. It was a par 5 on the river course. I figured I had it locked up. Its not like the US Open was at stake, but you always like to beat family. But, somehow I got "the yips"... The demons caught up and I looked like Phil on the 18th hole at Winged Foot almost 2 years ago. Shanked a drive, took a drop, wound up with a triple-bogey 8. Brandon birdied the hole. I lost by 1 stroke. He won the Tiger way. (Mo - they don't call him "Peene the Machine" for nothing) I lost the Phil way.

On Sunday, when we're watching the Masters...I know we'll both be rooting for a moment when the leaderboard is tied and having the consummate professional storyteller, Jim Nantz, dictate a timeless story about two of the greatest athletes of our time. (See slim Phil now? He's not a golfer...He's an athlete). Then of course, we all revert back to being "Phils" and "Tigers". That's what I'd like in my Easter basket.

Oh, and don't forget a few Cadbury creme eggs too. I love those things.