Not a football story but here goes.
A couple friends and I went to a practice round at the Memorial Tournament in Dublin, Ohio in 1992. Sometime in mid-afternoon, a thunderstorm rolled through, and everyone got off the course. I ended up spending some time with Rocco Mediate—a whole other story—while my buddies took cover. Most of the fans left. We decided to wait to see if practice would resume.
And it did! About 4:30 or so, the skies cleared up, and Tom Watson came out to “get nine holes in,” as he told us and the few other people still there.
What a cool guy! We pretty much left him alone, but whenever he was near us behind the ropes—which wasn’t often—he acknowledged the few fans there.
On some green—I wanna say the par five that clears the little creek but don’t recall which hole—he came to the rough behind the green six or eight feet from where we were standing and started dropping balls. It was straight downhill, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the ball within about ten feet of the cup. We assimed he was weighing the risk of going for the green in two and ending up over the green vs. laying up.
Anyway, after about a dozen balls, I leaned to my buddy and said within earshot of Watson, “I think I could get within six feet or so.”
Watson stopped, looked down, slowly turned to me, and smiled:
”Yep. That would be why you’re on that side of the rooes.”