Steve Williams, blow it out your self-important New Zealander ass.

I met this guy this summer and asked him a simple question. He spewed a response with a false sense of superiority and patronization so substantial it almost knocked me over. The mundane question was neither ill-informed nor of ill-will. It truly was a simple, unconsequential question.

But not to ol’ Stevey, the most famous bagboy in the world. His unprovoked rudeness navigated past his buck teeth without pause. I’m a pacifist, but he made me want to take off my golf spike and hit him in the face with it. And I know I’m not the only one.

So what’s this guy’s deal? Does Tiger want him to act like this? Is it some sort of first line of defense for keeping the untouchables out of Tiger’s way? Or is the highest paid “athlete” in New Zealand just a bona-fide a-hole? And I question the word athlete. I know many people that could walk five miles a day with a backpack on, that doesn’t make them athletes. It makes them pedestrians. On that note, what does he do anyway that someone else couldn’t? So he reads putts and walks off yardages. Congratulations. Tiger could do that by himself.

Bottom line: He carries Tiger’s stuff. Get a monkey in the weight room, and he could do that job. The only qualification Steve-o holds over the monkey is the fact that he doesn’t throw his poo at the spectators, I hope.

To you, Steve: Take your nose out of Tiger’s caboose long enough to put things into perspective. You carry someone’s bag. That someone just happens to be one of the greatest players in history. He was good before you were with him, and he will be good after. In the grand scheme of things, you’re rather minuscule. Your contribution to the game: negligible. Get over yourself.

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