FICTION it was. Pure.
But only in the beginning.
It didn’t matter that he was called Shrek because he was gap-toothed like the ogre in the movie, Shrek.”
I watched “Shrek.” Enjoyed it. Nothing’s just kid stuff anymore these days.
“Ice Age.” “Iron Man.” “Nemo.” “Toys2.” Unadulterated entertainment.
And then this.
It’s like the parting of the Red Sea once more. Or Dustin Hoffman becoming Accidental Hero again.
Or, even Jesus walking on water.
In this one, again, the film elements were all there.
His name was even as unpronounceable as superkalifragilisticexpialidocious. The Sound of Music reprised?
Is it ostrich? OK citizen? Osterizer? Izlaizenouten?
It’s Oosthuizen, stupid. Louis Oosthuizen.
In Round 1 of the British Open, he shot 65.
Looks like he had blasphemed St. Andrews?
No one scores that low at the birthplace of golf, unless you are Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson.
Fine that Roy McIlroy fired 63. Being Brit, a rising star from NIR, he’s closer to home.
Not Oosthuizen. He’s from, hey, South Africa. And he shoots 65?
McIlroy was applauded, but not Oosthuizen.
Who he? He is Louis but not King Louis XIV, after whom the world’s finest cognac was named.
In Round 2 in the gusting winds, McIlroy got blown away, shooting 80. Great Britain mourned.
But Oosthuizen ducked under the winds, emerging with 67—the best of the day. The world mocked him.
Oops and aha! Look at this. Oosthuizen nailed 69 in Round 3 and was 15-under,
virtually unreachable by now, with 18 holes left.
With one hole remaining in Day 4, he was 8 up.
After planting his last tee shot of the tournament 30 feet from the 18th green, he was on in two.
From 10 feet, he needed eight putts to make official fiction as nonfiction.
When he two-putted to win by 7 with a 71, the greatest show on golf became the greatest show on earth.
For his exceptional role in this fictional saga of nonfictional sagas, Oosthuizen, 27, pocketed $1.29 million.
Before yesterday, his PGA Tour earnings totalled a measly $26,300.
They happen and will continue to happen: Perfection from one expected to collapse, fiction becoming fact.
Pure fantasy, ecstacy.