Club Pro Guy Quotes

His son wanted to be a firefighter, but didn't get the job. Mr. Neck is convinced that this is some kind of reverse discrimination. He says we should close our borders so that real Americans can get the jobs they deserve. The job test said that I would be a good fire fighter. I wonder if I could take a job away from Mr. Neck's son. Mr. Neck writes on the board again: "DEBATE: America should have closed her borders in 1900." That strikes a nerve. Several nerves. I can see kids counting backward on their fingers, trying to figure out when their grandparents or great-grandparents were born, when they came to America, if they would have made the Neck Cut. When they figure out they would have been stuck in a country that hated them, or a place with no schools, or a place with no future, their hands shoot up. They beg to differ with Mr. Neck's learned opinion. ... The arguments jump back and forth across the room. A few suck-ups quickly figure out which side Mr. Neck is squatting on, so they fight to throw out the 'foreigners.' Anyone whose family immigrated in the last century has a story to tell about how hard their relatives have worked, the contributions they make to the country, the taxes they pay. A member of the Archery Club tries to say that we are all foreigners and we should give the country back to the Native Americans, but she's buried under disagreement. Mr. Neck enjoys the noise, until one kid challenges him directly. Brave Kid: "Maybe your son didn't get that job because he's not good enough. Or he's lazy. Or the other guy was better than him, no matter what his skin color. I think the white people who have been here for two hundred years are the ones pulling down the country. They don't know how to work - they've had it too easy." The pro-immigration forces erupt in applause and hooting. Mr. Neck: "You watch your mouth, mister. You are talking about my son. I don't want to hear any more from you. That's enough debate - get your books out.

Many years ago the legendary golf pro Gary Player was hitting balls off the practice tee one morning, and the first ball he hit went 280 yards straight as a bullet. A guy in the gallery just within earshot said, ‘Man, I’d give anything to be able to hit a golf ball like you.’ Gary walked over to the guy and said, ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ The guy said, ‘Yes, I would. I’d give anything to hit like that,’ Gary said, ‘No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t be willing to do what it takes. You have to rise early in the morning and hit five hundred balls until your hands bleed. Then you stop, tape your hands, and hit five hundred more balls. The next morning you’re out there again with hands so raw you can barely hold your club, but you do it all over again. If you do that through enough years of pain, then you can hit a ball like that.

I used to play golf,” said Serge. “It’s a frightening game. Forget football or even NASCAR.” He whistled in awe. “Golf takes it to the brink.” “That bad?” “It’s the mental component. They try to hush it up, but the game can destroy the strongest men. Every year, dozens of ugly psychotic breaks. Frustration builds over a lifetime until a tee shot lands in the water of a sadistic island hole, and then a hedge-fund manager hurls all his clubs like tomahawks at the other guys in plaid knickers before stripping off all his clothes and making ‘snow angels’ in a sand trap, prompting a special unit from the pro shop to hustle him away through secret underground doors. Fortunately, I have the perfect emotional composition to excel at golf.

The more popular our project became, the more it worried the Kremlin. At first they simply ignored us, but after a while began actively attacking. Pro-Kremlin journalists wrote that we were 'providing a mass platform for the wrong kinds of people' and 'creating the wrong sorts of trends.' Then the regime started overtly hindering our activities and trying in every way possible to discredit them. The debates were held offline, which made us vulnerable. The regime started putting pressure on the owners of the premises where we held them. There were 'inspections,' visits from the police, threats to cut off their electricity, anything to stop them from allowing us to hire their rooms. The regime began sending gangs of troublemakers regularly. A dozen people would turn up, begin yelling, throw things around, and start a fight, and the venue would turn down our next attempt to book it. The main aim was to marginalize us, to show that ours were 'not political debates at all,' but just a bunch of drunks getting together and starting a fight. See how disgusting they are, there's one with blood running down his face. I mention the blood because it was my face it was running down. A group of drunken young guys turned up at one of our debates, shouting insults, chanting 'Sieg Heil,' and snatching the microphone from those who wanted to ask questions. I tried form the stage to calm down the ruckus, but a fight broke out, with one of the invaders attacking me outside. I had a gun with me for self-defense that fired rubber bullets. I first shot in the air and then in the direction of my assailant. This made little impression on him, and he hurled himself at me. We were both taken away by the police but not charged. turns out my attacker was the son of some FSB higher-up and Daddy didn't want a fuss. I must admit that the Kremlin's tactics worked. We were faced with the purely logistical problem that no club wanted anything more to do with us, and even if they did, we could not guarantee the safety of our audience. The disruptions became predictable and overshadowed the meaningful part of the debates. The project would have to be abandoned. This taught me a useful lesson, and was a significant moment in my political career. I saw how much could be achieved without money and without the 'protection' of the Kremlin, indeed, in spite of the Kremlin. What I needed was a group of supporters to work with me, and I found that group through the internet. I have often heard it said that my rapid adoption of the internet provided unique political flair, that I was a visionary prophesying the dawning of a new era. That is very flattering, of course, but far off the mark. I took to the internet because there was no alternative; television and the newspapers were censored, and rallies were banned.