Mmm, Easter Breakfast In Augusta

The Masters Invitational Champion will, for the first time ever, hail from the warm sunny beaches of Southwest Colorado. Following yesterday's historic catastrophe, in which the best players in the world tried to imitate me and my buddies at the local par-3 (after a 12-pack each, no less) we're left with two competing for golf's grandest prize.

Someone in Augusta will don a green jacket this afternoon. If it's Tiger, and it almost certainly will be, he'll have to go no further than the clubhouse to retrieve his old one for the fifth time. But it will still look new and shiny.

Much more significantly, a dirty old hobo blazer will be removed at gunpoint from the closet of Arvada Schwag and transported to lovely Durango. There it will grace the shoulders of Booze (on whom it may be a little snug) or Old Man Slinger (on whom it may look like a king-sized bedsheet). No matter. For either of these gentlemen it will be the finest moment of his life, and tears will flow like white gravy at an Iowa truck stop.

The format is best ball, and both competitors will have four bullets to fire at each hole. Somehow this always ends up going to tiebreakers, and I hate math, so whiskey will be on the menu starting, oh, now.

In this corner is Booze, standing about 6-foot-two and weighing a good amount. He starts some kid named Tiger, Stewart Cink (who was born on the same day in the same year as the handsome stud writing this post), Rory Sabbatini and John Rollins. The occasional birdie could erupt from the latter three, but this squad appears to be leaning heavily on Mr. Woods for scores. And scenery.

And in this corner we have Slinger-Re, standing a Big Mac more than Mayor McVesco and weighing less than your Sunday paper (with comics). The old man switched things up last night and inserted his "C" foursome--a wily move by the veteran gunslinger. He'll have Retief Goosen, Mike Weir, David Toms and Gentle Ben Crenshaw divoting the hallowed turf of the National today.

Best of luck to both of these gents, and thanks for participating--in this pool, in the House of Georges, and in the democracy of the United States. Now go away forever and return to soliciting boys off of MySpace, you pervs.