Sunday Sermon

by Al Pastor

Live, more or less, from the shag-encrusted confines, not like those other reheated, syndicated steam tray shows from the Man.

Live, more or less, from the shag-encrusted confines, not like those other reheated, syndicated steam tray shows from the Man.

Script

THAT’S GOLF!

SportsTalk AM 1300 The Zone

Austin, TX

October 20, 2013

THANKS FOR FINDING US. WE’VE RELOCATED. SAME SHAG-ENCRUSTED STUDIOS. SAME SNARKY YANKEE HOST.

THIS IS THE 8 O’CLOCK SERVICE. METAL SPIKES WELCOME. FOR THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE, METAL SPIKES WERE GOLF SHOES WITH SHORT METAL SPINES ON THE BOTTOM. THEY MADE A GREAT NOISE WALKING ACROSS CONCRETE. “CLACKITY-CLACK” VALUE, IT WAS KNOWN. THEY WERE ALSO MURDEROUS ON CARPETS. AND WHEN JOHN KENNEDY MOVED INTO THE WHITE HOUSE, THERE WAS A TRAIL WHERE HIS PREDECESSOR DWIGHT EISENHOWER HAD MADE HOLES IN THE CARPET WITH HIS SPIKES GOING BACK AND FORTH OUT TO THE SOUTH LAWN TO HIT BALLS.

WE’RE AN EXCLUSIVE PRESENTATION (FOR GOOD REASON, AS WILL SOON BE APPARENT) OF SPORTSTALK AM 1300 THE ZONE, AND YOUR AUSTIN COMMUNITY CHURCH OF THE INVETERATE DUFFER.

OUR SERMON TODAY COMES FROM THE REVEREND R.A. WHITE OF CHICAGO. THAT’S ALL I KNOW ABOUT HIM. THESE WORDS REPRINTED IN THE AMERICAN GOLFER MAGAZINE OF MARCH, 1918. NO IDEA HOW HIS CONGREGATION RESPONDED TO THES WORDS: QUOTE

 GOLF IS A NATIONAL MORAL ASSET. IT HAS NOT ONLY BROUGHT HAPPINESS WITH THE FRESHENING UP ON THE RED BLOOD, BUT IT HAS KEPT TENS OF THOUSANDS FROM DEPLETING DISSIPATIONS. EVEN THE PRESENCE OF THE UBIQUITOUS NINETEENTH HOLE DOES NOT APPRECIABLY WEAKEN THE ARGUMENT. TO PLAY A GAME OF GOLF OVER GREEN FIELDS IN THE SUNSHINE, UNDER SKIES AS DREAMY AS PARADISE, WITH A LOAD OF BOOZE, WOULD BE AS UNSATISFACTORY TO A HEALTHY MAN AS TO GET ALL “LIT UP” BEFORE GOING TO LISTEN TO GRAND OPERA. GAMES, SPORTS, GYMNASIUMS, ALL FORMS OF PHYSICAL CULTURE AND EXERCISE ARE NOT MERE PLEASURES. THEY ARE OF VAST SOCIAL SIGNIFICANCE. THEY ARE AS IMPORTANT AS THE SCHOOLS OR CHURCH. THEY ARE MEN-MAKERS.

END QUOTE.

(I’M JUST GUESSING, BUT WHEN THE REV. WHITE SET DOWN THOSE SENTIMENTS, I THINK HE MAY HAVE RECENTLY WON ALL THE BETS IN HIS MONTHLY TWO-BALL WITH THE BISHOP. WE WILL LIKELY NEVER KNOW. MARCH, 1918.)

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