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Editor's note: As a part of the creative braintrust in the GOLF CHANNEL news department, Dena Davis thrives on uncovering compelling stories in golf for our shows, and finding unique, fresh ways to give viewers their golf news. These are her weekly thoughts, some random musings, and even a few programming notes. And she would like you to remember: It's all said in good fun.
 
Prozac-tly What I Needed
I suffered from T.W.W. (Tiger Woods Withdrawal) much sooner than I had expected -- like, on April 17th at approximately 8:59 a.m. ET, upon arriving to work on that initial post-Masters Thursday. I had no idea my universe would spiral into a such a deep, dark abyss in the absence of Eldrick ' which might also have been why this blog broke down faster than Mark Prior in the springtime. Without the meaning in my life, without my inspiration (cue Peter Cetera), the past eight Tiger-less weeks have been miserable. And by miserable I mean, I was a walking Zoloft commercial: Down-in-the-dumps? Irritable? Shaped like an egg with tiny legs and arms? Yep, this girl *two-thumbs pointing-inward gesture*. I listlessly skulked about my house with the curtains drawn in a Doritos-dusted, chocolate milk-stained bathrobe. On days I actually pried myself out of bed, I spent google-ing random words like Woods and knee and Dena + Tiger on my laptop whilst curled up in a fetal position sunk into the couch, my face nestled safely against my Woodrow headcover, forming stripe-like creases into my tear-tinged cheeks. With my calendars and clocks stuck on the day the music died, I was merely one decrepit old wedding dress away from becoming Miss Havisham. Seemingly, I needed to seek professional help -- or join a traveling Charles Dickens theatre troupe. But really, all I needed was THIS week. I needed the No. 1 golfer in all the land to be written back into the script on a Major stage. With Tiger back in the scene, on the scene and being seen, the music would once again play on, play on, play on (now cue Lionel Richie!) The legendary rock band Cinderella sang it best, You dont know what youve got til its gone. Lord help me the day Tiger hangs up the spikes. Or, gasp, has knee surgery again*.
 
*Umm. I just found out Tigers having surgery again. Anyone know a good therapist?
 
Must-Knee TV
Saturday night, and I aint got nobody? Nah, Sam Cooke, I had a few friends ' and gorgeous HD flat-screen television, aaaand a man-not-named-MJ eliciting thrills and chills with one-hop trajectories towards flag-sticks, banking spheres into cups with tongue-wagging gravity-defying shots and those lovable grinning shrugs. It was another magical night of goose-bumps and butterflies and he hadnt even bought me dinner and flowers. From Friday to Monday, the extended weekend of clutch shots and wincing wonders was an intense roller-coaster of emotions not felt since perhaps the fall of 2006 when my beloved Cardinals outlasted the Mets in a tee-biting (right, Rocco?) 7-game 2006 NL Series. I didnt eat for days during that stretch and rode Space Mountain just help take the edge off. So, this past Sunday, even though I knew Tiger would make that birdie putt on the 72nd hole, my stomach still felt like it was auditioning So You Think You Can Dance contestants ' and I loved it. Then there was jubilation and inspiration culminating in a rewarding Monday of Free! Golf! ' and change. And I was left channeling Billy Corgan, singing my most fervent rendition of Today is the Greatest, gleeful over one of the most compelling workdays in sports in which Id not been at all productive (Dont take it personally, March Madness). So, I suppose if we dont get any more Real World: Tiger for the rest of the year, I can handle it. Ill have this memorable week in my mind to keep me going. Also, I DVR-ed it.
 
Thats the ticket!
Between his various adorning pieces of patriotic flair, his shiny peace-sign belt buckle (Rory Sabbatini was not impressed), and his temerity to wear red in the final bout 'boldly ignoring the color his enemy had trademarked for his very own championships, not only might Rocco have a side-career in mens golf fashion, but why not politics? Shouldnt a certain junior Senator from Illinois be on the horn with this recently-beloved, gritty, determined, son of a barber from the Steel City, already? Dont tell me BaRoccObama 08 doesnt just rock n roll off the tongue and right onto a campaign ticket?
 
Turning the (Beth)page
God bless Phil Mickelson. On Sunday, our San Diego native son was doing his best to forget his national nightmare on Pines street, by attempting to shift his attention to next years U.S. Open at Bethpage Black in NY, exclaiming that hes chomping at the bit to compete there in, oh, about 361 days or so. Trouble is, he must have gotten knocked in the noggin with his 3-wood, because he might remember that the reigning Bethpage Black Open title-holder will likely be in the field. And all three of Eldricks U.S. Open wins have come at public courses. You might say, its right in his wheelhouse. And for this one, Tiger wont have a bum wheel. *crosses fingers*
 
Pair-Shaped World
Like Rajon Rondo always wearing his headband upside-down or Skip Bayless continued gainful employment, our sports world if full of conundrums which, sadly, may never be deciphered. But will someone please explain to me the Tours terminology for tee-time groupings of three, called pairings. If Im not mistaken, a pair is two. Oh, thats right it was just Tiger and Phil on Thursday and Friday. There was no Adam Scott. At least, according to the hype ' and to how the No. 3 golfer in the world played. While the wide gap from Tiger to Phil is continents apart in rankings, the impossibly dreamy Aussie's position feels more like planets away -- and nowhere in the stratosphere of Major-land. Perhaps, though, with a pair of Tiger-less majors now hovering on the horizon, Scott can finally take his career to the next level and shed the bridesmaid label. But will it be considered legitimate, minus The One to contend with? Sergio, what do you think? (Hey, since Kevin Garnett insists we cant use the phrase Big Three for his band of musketeers, do we call them the Big Pairing?)
 
Sudden Death Holes:
 
Reason #253 I love Kevin Garnett
Because even in the utter chaos of the Celtics Championship celebration, thru his unprecedented deliriously incoherent and completely mesmerizing rant, KG was still able to drop some knowledge, as the kids say. Turns out Minnesota has now been shortened to Sota. Thanks to the Big Ticket, I stay fresh and hip with my abbreviation lingo.
 
Goodnight, Canada
Any truth to the rumor that Colin Montgomeries poor play at the U.S. Open was mainly due to his looking ahead to the monumental TELUS Skins tournament on Mon and Tues in British Columbia? Skins = Ryder Cup pts?
 
We Got To Get Down to Beantown
Gosh, whatever will those poor, long-suffering Boston fans do now that the Pats, Sawks, and Cs have all won titles recently? Looks like the Bruins Got Next! Anythiiiiings possiiiiiiible? Maybe. But Ray Borque is NOT walking thru that door. (And Tiger is not watching hockey?)
 
Reason #141 Kobe Bryant will never be Michael Jordan
The league's MVP was shut down by James Posey in do-or-die elimination Finals Game 6. Read that again. James Posey. Even Tiger Woods wouldnt let that happen On a gimp knee.

Knowing is Half the Battle
Okay, so heres what we know from this week: Rocco Mediate is the new Paul Goydos. Allisen Corpuz is the next Michelle Wie. Tiger Woods is the Michael Jordan of golf. Paul Pierce (and his knee) was the Tiger Woods of the Finals. Now, whos going to be Tiger Woods of golf for the rest of the year? Paging Anthony Kim, paging Lorena Ochoa?
 
Fiesta, Forever
Is it almost time to commence the Senorita Slam talk again as we get closer to the Womens U.S. Open in Sota next week! Well, no. Or is it? Just a couple of months ago, you couldnt mention Lorena or Tiger without using the words ridiculous dominance and/or grand slams. Now, its just our fair maiden left on the golf landscape to take up the task and shes defending her title at the Wegmans this week. Itll be a nice warm-up to the next major at Interlachen. And for someone whos been on her bandwagon all year, I dont mind admitting I would love to get a chance to ride it to Berkshire, England with the U.S. Open trophy in tow. The great state of Sota boasts thousands of lakes for her to splash victoriously into, Kraft Nabisco-style, you know.
 
I Can Cry For Miles and Miles
So, Willie Randolph has to travel 3,000 miles to the west coast to get his head handed to him... while the Los Angeles Lakers have to fly clear across country to Boston for their series-ending bloodbath. Moral of the story? PGA Tour players should consider saving their extra baggage fees in crossing the pond to make their tee time at Royal Birkdale when Tiger's posted as a 2:1 favorite there on Tuesday. Wait, what? Tigers really not coming back this year?
 
Reality starting to set inin 3, 2, 1 I shall now go cry in the shower. Sob, Rinse, Repeat.
 
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