KEY POINTS:
More annoying than a speeding thunderstick. More grating than another Jordan Luck jingle. Louder than one of those damn Waikato cowbells. Louder even than one of Woody Austin's shirts. More garish than Darren Clarke's trousers.
Those blokes, and they are always blokes, who scream "get in the hole"
at major golf tournaments are the scourge of sport.
And he, or they, were at it again during Tiger Woods' 13th major victory in the heat-soaked PGA at Oklahoma.
At that moment of ultimate golf beauty, when you instinctively contemplate how a tiny contact point can produce such precise results hundreds of metres away, a pillock bellows into the living room.
"Get in the hole".
GET OUT OF MY LIFE.
"Get in the hole" is not even a logical call from that distance. Get on the fairway maybe. Get out of the rough maybe. Get on the green maybe.
It's not about logic, anyway. It's about hogging the limelight, getting in on the act, revelling in being a smart arse.
Why are knuckleheads like that allowed to intrude upon other people's enjoyment?
Why, if it is so necessary to scream like a turkey every time Tiger or anyone else hits a little white ball, can't the bloke do it in his living room?
Hey, Mr Get In The Hole. Get on your bike.
As for Tiger though, remarkable.
He'll overhaul the magic number of 18 majors set by Jack Nicklaus, for sure. It's all over, bar that horrible shouting.
The 2007 PGA was the moment to drop a stick of doubt in his bag, to let him sweat over a majorless season for a while. No sirree. Tiger came roaring back, and spread his own icing on the cake by declaring he'll only get better.
It remains sport's most intriguing mystery why the obsessive brilliance of Woods can't be overhauled by mere mortals - some of whom look more like blokes from a bar than Woods-type gym freaks - on the final day of major championships.
To lead 13 times going into the final round and win them all is staggering. He was tested on the final nine this time, when the heat might even have caused a game as great as Woods' to expire as its owner perspired.
Tiger may have had to wipe away the sweat, but not even a resurgent Ernie Els could wipe another smile off his face. And we all got to smile, because we all got spared the grumpy Tiger that appears during his tragedies.
This is no time to quibble though. Save the snipes for another day when he sulks to defeat, methinks. And as much as his graceless "failures" irk, I just can't help barracking for his golfing highness.
We are witnessing a phenomenon in Tiger Woods, even if he does lack the wit and charm associated with sports legends of old.
