Saturday’s gallery at the Waste Management Phoenix Open couldn’t even make it to when the leaders teed off in the late afternoon at TPC Scottsdale before all alcohol sales were promptly cut off. In all the years of drunken debauchery at the notorious PGA Tour stop, never can I recall booze being prohibited at any point in the day, no matter how much fans cross the line. https://twitter.com/domnewlandtv/status/1756448807137722381 https://twitter.com/GolfTipsChecker/status/1756443539846684750 https://twitter.com/CamCox12/status/1756447732624162898 For things to escalate to such an extreme is almost kind of impressive, but is also enough to make you lose a little faith in the human species. Or at least American humanoids. It wasn’t looking pretty even from the early third-round action on Saturday.
An unfortunate wardrobe malfunction
befell a morning time binge drinker as he made a Herculean/Sisyphean effort to make it up a slippery, muddy hill depending on your interpretation of mythology. https://twitter.com/NUCLRGOLF/status/1756341027261014071 That was evidently the beginning of the end for Phoenix Open alcohol sales. Overflowing capacity, crazy long lines just to get one mere brewski beer, and full-on chaos that would make anyone’s head spin, inebriated or not! https://twitter.com/astronomy89/status/1756429118596596053 Not helping the cause, either, was yet another shirt-free male who thought doing a snow angel in the bunker was a bright idea. https://twitter.com/PaigeSpiranac/status/1756421748478919087 Bless those security personnel/law enforcement officers who have to police this disaster show. My goodness. Why so many people would insist upon getting blackout drunk and not remember such an electrifying atmosphere for a golf tournament is hard for me to understand. At least it’s not super hot in Arizona right now, but nevertheless, if you’re going to go HAM and rage it up with your best pals at this venue, you ought to pace yourself, right? Your recall be fuzzy if you don’t to say the least. Furthermore — I just typed “furthermore”? No turning back now — I can’t imagine it’d be a whale of a time to full send copious amounts of adult beverages down your throat, only to have to wade your way out of the grandstands/slick terrain and try to find a bathroom before your bladder bursts. OK. I’ve said my peace on the madness. Let’s bring this home with a little optimism. You’d wish that the spectators could draw a line