Ever since Brett Favre got his jerseys set on fire by the likes of me, I’ve been searching for a new hero; a new athlete to look up to unconditionally.

Jim Furyk, please come forward and accept my gift of unconditional love, for your oversleeping for your tee-time for the pro-am at The Barclays, which resulted in your disqualification. It is likely the best happening in the history of sports.

This is mostly because of the fact that he overslept due to his cell phone/alarm clock dying over night. Maybe Furyk can’t afford a real alarm clock. Maybe he doesn’t want one, and he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t see fit.

Because he’s Jim Furyk. Are we Jim Furyk? No, we are not, so we can say nothing on the matter. I’d probably rather dream of the great unicorn of Falafel Forest, too, than play in a pro-am at 7:30 a.m.

You’ll get no criticism from me, Jimmy, my new best friend.