I was adamant that some of his behaviour on the course had to change. He was well known for his bad temper and, while that wasn’t pleasant to witness, you could live with it because it ended as quickly as it started. But he had other bad habits that upset me. I wanted him to prove to me he could change his behaviour and show me – and the game of golf – more respect.
One thing that really pissed me off was how he would flippantly toss a club in the general direction of the bag, expecting me to go over and pick it up. I felt uneasy about bending down to pick up his discarded club – it was like I was his slave. The other thing that disgusted me was his habit of spitting at the hole if he missed a putt. Tiger listened to what I had to say, the air was cleared and we got on with it – his goal was to be the best player in history and my goal was to keep working as best I could to help make that happen.
Oh give me a fucking break Steve. We really doing this shit right now you oversized chipmunk? I would dress up like a Chili’s waitress and suck Tiger’s dick for eight million dollars. Shit, I would do it for eight thousand just to pay rent in New York City. This guy literally made you a millionaire and your show of appreciation is to constantly blow up his spot for occasionally hurting your feelings? Newsflash Stevie, if Tiger was calmly handing you his clubs and watching his language he wouldn’t have 14 majors to his name. Spitting on greens and farting on waitresses is what made Tiger who he is. You’re lucky all he did was throw the putter at you, because if he knew how disloyal you’d be now he’d probably shove that thing straight up your narrow ass until the grip touched your buck teeth. If you wanted a nice guy you could’ve just followed Geoff Ogilvy and make $74K a year. Otherwise shut your bucktoothed mouth and grab Tiger’s 6 iron from the pond. The Jacksonville Hooters only stays open til 10, you gotta finish this round up.