It was 9:00 p.m. on a Monday night, and the Bachelorette was on in the Rielly house. Now, if you are lucky enough to know me, you are probably saying to yourself: “there is no way Nick is actually writing this right now,” or “I am never going to talk to this kid ever again.” Let me assure you that none of these were the case, and that I was watching the show with two of my brothers. However, I can explain myself. As I got home from a hard day of golf, lunch at Chili’s and touch football in the backyard, I naturally turned on ESPN, expecting to see a high quality game between the Phillies and the Giants. Unfortunately, this game had been rained out. In its place was women’s college softball. So, in my progression of channels, I turned to ESPN 2 to find that an enthralling tournament of bowling was being aired from nine to midnight. (Note: I call a scenario like this the “Perfect Storm” of television. When it happens, all judgments about what you or your friends choose to watch can be thrown out the window. For instance, if you were to walk in on me watching Single Ladies on VH1, all I would have to do is say the words “Perfect Storm” and you would understand). Because one of my brothers happens to be an avid fan of reality television, I entertained his request to watch the Bachelorette, a show that gets about 95 percent of its ratings from married women in their forties.
In the first five minutes of the show, the Bachelorette (I want to say her name was Ashley) was asking the contestants what their idea of a perfect day would be if they had all of the money and resources in the world. The first contestant who spoke was a man who had hair that looked like it was plastic, was wearing a rhinestone Italian Stallion t-shirt and was named either Brody or Beau. Already, the guy was off to a bad start in my book. However, it wasn’t until after he opened his mouth to answer that I was on all fours dry heaving for a good five minutes before my brother had the decency to finally just turn the television off. His response was: “My idea of a perfect day would be with you on the beach, just walking up and down the shore for hours.”
Are you serious? A day at the beach and you don’t even go in the water? I could not believe my ears. However, there was a silver lining to all of this. Brody/Beau’s answer gave me an idea for the topic of the column this week: what I would do for a day if I had all the money and resources in the world.
As soon as I heard this question, the first two words that popped my head were: “Augusta National.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with the place, it is golf’s equivalent of Fenway, Wrigley, and Yankee Stadium put into one. Home of the Masters and located in Augusta, Georgia, there is so much history at this course that my 12-year old brother can name 15 of the 18 holes there (yes, it is so legit that every hole has a name).
This would obviously be my first destination, and I have replayed the following scenario in my head so many times it is starting to become a little weird. Here is how it would go: My four friends and I would wake up at about 7 a.m., and drive to the airport to take a private jet from Pittsburgh to Augusta. We would then eat a huge breakfast at one of the cabins located on the course, where we would be served by a guy named Jimmy or Petey (I haven’t decided which name I like better). After breakfast, we would tee off on the first hole, and I would proceed to have the greatest round of my entire life. I would go into Amen Corner at three under, and birdie holes eleven and twelve in an overly dramatic fashion.
We would finish the round in four hours and fifteen minutes, where one of our caddies would take a picture of our foursome on the eighteenth hole. This picture would be framed immediately and hung behind my desk in my office back at home. After that, we would all light up some cigars and have a buffet-style lunch on the terrace overlooking the course. The lunch would last for hours, and we would focus about 85 percent of our conversation on whether or not Tiger is going to come back, and how John Daly is just the man.
After lunch, we would all fly back to Pittsburgh to catch a Pirates game. Because this is a perfect world, the Pirates would be in the pennant race, and PNC Park would be sold out. A kid can dream, right? The Pirates would come back in the ninth to win the game and everyone would go home happy.
Finally, after the game, me and all of my closest friends would sit down for dinner, order a few bottles of wine, and talk about life, sports and how much we hate Brett Favre and Barry Bonds. I don’t know how long this dinner would last, but I can tell you that it would be the ultimate end to the perfect day. I mean, how can you top Augusta, the Pirates winning, and a conversation about two of the world’s most hated athletes? The bottom line is you cannot, and if you were to come up with something different, it would not be better than this.
Who knew that five minutes of the Bachelorette can result in such an epic day? Thank you Ashley the dentist, I owe you one.
Original Author: Nicholas Rielly