Two of a kind

Dear Tiger Woods,
Hey, Tiger. Congratulations on your win last weekend at the PGA Championship. And congratulations on collecting your 13th major tournament title faster than any golfer in history. That's pretty sweet. I bet you're pretty excited.
I played a little golf last weekend too, Tiger. Around the time you were tying a major championship record by shooting a 63 in front of a crowd of thousands of cheering spectators, I was teaming up with Independent sports guy Pat Rupp to whup former Independent general manager Chad Richardson and the sports guy at our company's paper in Hastings. I realize our round didn't get quite as much news coverage as yours. But we won by 14 strokes. What'd you win by? That's right: two. Don't feel bad, though. Some people just perform better than others in the heat of competition.
Was that out of line, Tiger? Sorry about that. I'm not trying to make you mad. Actually, I think we're a lot alike, you and I.
Consider this: You play golf for a living. You spend countless hours refining your game and you make millions of dollars every year in tournament winnings and endorsements, including one for Buick where you talk about breaking the window of your car. My round Friday was the first I've played this year. When I got to the course I had to shake glass out of my shoes, because they haven't left my trunk since last summer and they were in there when someone threw a rock through my window a few weeks ago.
I know. Spooky, right?
You are known for your powerful golf swing. I often swing really, really hard. You can hit your pitching wedge something like 200 yards. I can hit my driver that far. On a good day. With the wind at my back.
Need more? How about this: You're married to a superhot Swedish model who recently gave birth to your first child. I'm single at the moment, but I've been to Sweden. Also, we just got a dog in the house where I live. I realize a dog and a baby aren't the same thing, but a lot of the same issues come up. You know: feeding, walking, flea baths.
It's like looking in a mirror, right? And that's not all.
You have your name on a video game. I play video games (not yours, though; I'm not a big fan of golf games). You have clubs made to your specifications with the latest golf technology. My dad made most of my clubs something like 15 years ago. Millions of people read about you in newspaper stories. Literally fives of people read this column every week.
Life's not easy for guys like you and me, Tiger. You've set such high expectations by performing so well at such a young age. Likewise, now that I've helped power my two-man team to a score of 84 people expect more from me. Like that I continue to hit the ball without causing it to slice viciously into the parking lot and maim innocent bystanders. Or that I actually play golf again at some point. We've got the weight of the world on our shoulders. There's you, there's me and there's Atlas, Tiger.
I guess what I'm saying, Tiger, is that we should hang out sometime. Drop me an e-mail. We can go bowling or something.