I am proud to announce that my golf game has improved to the point where I am being considered for sponsorships by several exciting companies. It's a dream come true. After all, it's not every day that a 66-year-old, formerly husky, 10-handicapper would be on any company's sponsorship radar (the only possible exception being Big Bubba's Funeral Home of Defuniak Springs, Florida), but with several recent rounds in the 70's, including a first-ever below par back nine, I guess it was only a matter of time before some companies saw the commercial possibilities in having ME festooned with their logos.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, I'm not the least bit upset about possibly losing my amateur status.
I play golf at least three mornings a week. Like clockwork. I assume it was that kind of predictability and stability that attracted some of these companies in the first place. After all, I'm sure they rarely find anyone with such dedication, with such a love of the game, with so little of what most normal people would call a LIFE!
Any company with the good sense to sponsor some or all of me will get plenty of exposure. I mean in a good way. I always start my round with a session at the driving range. There are usually throngs of people gathered at the range awaiting my 7:00 am arrival, hoping to get a glimpse of what one fan has dubbed "a textbook swing." (In the interest of full disclosure, he has never indicated which textbook.)
When I mentioned throngs of fans, I may have overstated it a bit. Usually there are two other living creatures on the driving range when I arrive; one is Jay the guy who picks up the balls, and the other is a lively rabbit who doubles as my swing coach. Still, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I'm not sure how that applies, but I always enjoyed that saying.
After about a half hour, during which I progress from my wedges to my mid-irons to my woods, I feel loose and ready to tackle the very formidable Santa Rosa Golf Club. Here is where the sponsorships will really pay off.
The massive galleries are legendary at Santa Rosa, which of course increases the value of my sponsorships. For example, our Monday-Wednesday-Friday group usually consists of three foursomes. That's 12 guys people. That's practically a demographic right there. When you add the people who line the fairways hoping to get a glimpse of me as I waddle past, you still get a grand total of 12.
Hey, at least nobody usually drops out by this point.
It's nothing to sneeze at, and the following companies have seen the obvious financial benefits inherent in placing their corporate logos on various parts of me:
Dairy Queen
I was an obvious candidate for a Dairy Queen sponsorship. Their corporate logo will be placed on my golf shirt, directly over my navel. It's a perfect match. My entire oeuvre screams Dairy Queen. A medium vanilla cone with butterscotch dip would be my calling card, I believe. In fact, I have made provisions to spend my eternal rest in a vat of the aforementioned butterscotch concoction. Each of the mourners will be given a vanilla cone and they can "dip" me to their hearts' content. Hey, it's as natural a sponsorship as OJ's deal with Avis.
I Tunes
I will be having my ears sponsored by I Tunes. There will be tiny I Tunes logos tattooed on both of my ears. Admittedly, these won't be visible to the majority of fans so my caddie, in the event I ever have one, will hold up a sign that reads, "When you get a minute, have a close look at Joel's ears."
That's called marketing, people.
Fiat
Now that Fiat has entered the American market again after a long absence, I was an obvious choice for sponsorship. After all, I was the last person to own an actual Fiat before this huge company was banned from America's highway system. My Fiat was a lime green abomination that would start but wouldn't stop. I'll be proudly wearing their logo on the soles of my golf shoes because that was the only way I could retard the damn thing's progress.
Twix
For most of my life, I have spent every waking minute plotting and scheming a way to ingest yet another Twix bar. Evidently word about this magnificent obsession reached corporate headquarters and the Twix marketing team saw the obvious advantages of having me serve as their model and spokesperson. Instead of a standard golf bag, I will be using a mock up of a Twix candy wrapper, all gold and red. When I pull out say a five iron, it will be as if I'm pulling out another delicious Twix bar. My agent worked out a terrific compensation package for me. I get two Twix Bars a month mailed to me. It's a better deal in the winter. Less melting.
Rogaine
Finally, my golf hat will be sponsored by Rogaine. It's a good deal, but I had to promise never to take it off.
You probably saw that coming.
Ain't life grand?
J
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