Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #44 - "Things Have Changed," Bettye Lavette

The best Bob Dylan album of the decade was recorded by a 72-year old African American woman.  Well, of course it was.  

A few years back I was lucky enough to be invited to participate in Jack Gallagher and Tommy Dunbar's podcast, "5 Songs."  At some point during our conversation, I commented that my approach to music was that the best song ever written "was somewhere out there, but I just haven't heard it yet."  It's not a perfect comparison, but Bettye Lavette is a good example of that.  She's been out there forever, and it wasn't until I saw her 2018 album included in Greil Marcus' "Real Life Rock Top Ten" column that she was introduced to me.  That's to my discredit.  

The great thing about her song choices on the album is that, with one notable exception, she didn't go for the obvious songs.  To be fair, Dylan did win an Oscar for this song, but if you picked out 100 music fans and asked them to write down their Top Ten Dylan songs, I'd hazard a guess that this one wouldn't be on too many lists.

It's also a classic example of an artist, in a cover version, making the song their own.  My guess is that Dylan himself prefers this version.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #44 - "Things Have Changed," Bettye Lavette.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #45 - "The Devil Named Music," Chris Stapleton

Chris Stapleton had been around forever, and outside of the country music world, very few people had heard of him.  Then he sang with Justin Timberlake at the Country Music Awards in 2016, and all of a sudden he was everywhere.  It's an old story, and one of the best - the songwriter toiling behind the scenes, who all of a sudden becomes a superstar himself.  Think Willie Nelson.

This is a big claim, but I really think that "The Devil Named Music" is the best road song since Bob Seger's "Turn the Page."  The themes are similar.  Seger's great song starts like this:

On a long and lonesome highway

East of Omaha

You can listen to the engine

moanin' out his one note song

Stapleton leads with this:

We drove all night to Billings, Montana

Flew into Utah, slept there all day

I can't remember stopping in Denver

Yeah, I live my illusion that somebody needs to me play

And then, compare the key verse from Seger:

Here I am, on the road again

There I am, up on the stage

Here I go, playin' star again

There I go, turn the page

With the key verse from Stapleton:

And sometimes I'm drunk

And sometimes I'm stoned

And yes, I get tired of being alone

I miss my daughter

And I miss my wife

But the devil named music is taking my life.

Like Seger before him, Stapleton toiled for a long time in relative obscurity, and we are blessed to have songs depicting that life from both of them.

#45, Top 50 Songs of the Decade: "The Devil Named Music," Chris Stapleton.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #46 - "I Can't Give Everything Away," David Bowie

I've said before that David Bowie never quite had a direct line to my heart like he did for so many others.  But there's no questioning his greatness; if you want to use the word "genius" I won't complain and I won't argue.

This is the last song on the last album that Bowie recorded.  "Blackstar," much like Warren Zevon's "The Wind," was incredible as much for its circumstances as for its songs.  Like Zevon, Bowie knew he was dying when he recorded it.  That one can argue that it was his best album - which I think you can - is a miracle.

"I Can't Give Everything Away" isn't just the album's last song - it's the album's best song.  It is an example of everything that David Bowie did well during his remarkable and historic career.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #47: "This Is the World of the Theatre"

It's time to pick up the pace on this little project.

Today, let's talk about The New Pornographers.  How about that band name?  It never fails to get a reaction when I include one of their songs on one of my compilations, and one has to wonder how many potential fans have quickly walked away in the record store when they see it.

In a perfect world, they'd be a gosh darn hit machine.  There may not be another band in the last twenty years that's created songs with such great hooks.  The musicianship is terrific, and the vocal interplay among the band's members is downright awe-inspiring.  When it comes to bands from Canada, they just might be the very best.  They've never recorded an album quite as good as "Neon Bible" or "The Suburbs" by Arcade Fire, but "Challengers" (2008) came close, and overall their output has been more consistent.  Call it a draw.

And for a bonus, here's the recorded version.



"This Is the World of the Theatre," The New Pornographers.  The #47 song of the decade.

Oakland Raiders vs. San Diego Chargers

Sports have always had a way of breaking your heart.  A disappointing season; a painful loss; a favorite player being traded or moving away via free agency.  There are myriad ways it can happen.  And, perhaps because of the way we are wired as humans, we remember those moments far more than we remember the good times.  As a fan of Bay Area teams for most of my life, I've got nothing to complain about - five Super Bowl championships for the 49ers, three World Series championships for the Giants, a similar number for the Athletics and Raiders back when I was a kid and rooted for all the Bay Area teams equally.

And while those were great moments, none of it completely washed out the memory of the 2002 World Series (dear Lord, please don't let him face another batter), the 1983 NFC Championship Game (that was NOT pass interference!), or the 1990 NFC Championship Game (Jeez, Roger Craig, just hold on to the ball, and we win - is that really too much to ask?).  It's not logical, it's not rational - but it is what it is.

But the worst way to break the heart of a sports fan is for an entire team to leave.  Just ask fans of the Brooklyn Dodgers, the Seattle Supersonics, the Los Angeles Rams, the St. Louis Rams, the St. Louis Football Cardinals, the Montreal Expos...

And the Oakland Raiders and San Diego Chargers.



Back in 1980, the Raiders and the Chargers were the two best teams in football.  They played an AFC Championship game that year which was much more memorable than the Super Bowl that was played two weeks later.  There were nine future Hall of Famers on the field that day: Gene Upshaw, Art Shell, Ted Hendricks, Dave Casper, Ray Guy, Dan Fouts, Kellen Winslow, Charlie Joiner, and Fred Dean.  Also on the field that day were two players that won the Heisman Trophy: Jim Plunkett and John Cappaletti.  Pro Bowl players on the field that day included Mark Van Eeghen, Cliff Branch, Bob Chandler, Raymond Chester, John Matuszak, Matt Millen, Lester Hayes, John Jefferson, Louie Kelcher, and Gary Johnson.  The coaches were Tom Flores and Don Coryell.

Two landmark teams.  Two landmark franchises.  And soon, both to be gone, perhaps forever.

The Raiders and the Chargers played a game last night.  The Chargers now play in Los Angeles, but Troy Aikman called them "San Diego" at least once.  And that's only right - because for those who believe in fairness and justice, they will always be the San Diego Chargers.  It may have been the best game of the season, so far.  It was far from perfect.  But it had the atmosphere of the greatest games - an atmosphere that you rarely see in the regular season.  It was glorious.



And, barring a postseason appearance, it was the last prime time game that will ever be played at the Oakland - Alameda County Coliseum.  And that is a shame.  And there is plenty of shame to go around: the families that own the teams, the greed-based mindset that guides the NFL in the 21st Century.  Since there is no fan base for the Chargers in Los Angeles, I doubt that I'm offending anyone by suggesting that L.A. does not deserve this team. And while I'm sure there are many fine, dedicated football fans in Las Vegas, they do not deserve the Raiders.

For me, they will always be the OAKLAND Raiders and the SAN DIEGO Chargers.  Perhaps in my lifetime, they will be again.  After all, it happened once before.  This time, I'm not holding my breath.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #48: "Poison & Wine," The Civil Wars

How much does one need to know about a song to enjoy and appreciate it?  Is it better to have all the background, all the facts?  Or should you just let the mystery and the music envelop you?

John Paul White on the song:

"That song probably does sum us up - The Civil Wars, the name of the band - as well as any song that we've written.  We're all married, and we were all talking about the good, the bad and the ugly, and just felt like: What would you say to someone if you were actually brutally honest - the things that you could never say because it would turn them away or let the cat of the bag or reveal yourself to be weaker?  What would you actually say if you had this invisible curtain around you and could just scream it in somebody's face and they'd actually never hear it?  We were all being very painful honest, because we're very comfortable around each other and know that things like that never leave the room, except in a song.  I'm pretty proud of that song, to be honest."

In the case of "Poison & Wine," there may have been a little foreshadowing involved as well.  The duo stuck together for one album after "Barton Hollow" (on which this song appeared), and then called it a quits right in the middle of a tour. 

It's not a word I'd often use to describe a song, but this one is exquisite.  And even if you set the lyrics and the meaning aside, you can indeed just let the music wash over you.

#48 - "Poison & Wine," The Civil Wars.

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #49 - "Your Dog," Soccer Mommy

From time to time, people ask me where I find the music in my collection.  Back in the old days, it was different - there were several Tower Records stores in town, and after that Dimple Records.  Browsing through the stacks of records (CDs later, but that was never as much fun) is one of the best memories of my lifetime.  Sometimes, I'd buy an album based solely on the album cover - The Pretenders' debut album comes to mind.  When you looked at that cover, how could you not think "this is going to be good?" 

Well, those days are over, and in this town (Sacramento) there's no longer a store that stocks enough records or CDs to make browsing worth one's time (or even possible, for that matter).  Today, I rely on several different online publications - Pitchfork, American Songwriter, No Depression, even Rolling Stone at times (especially when Rob Sheffield is writing) - for recommendations on new artists, or artists I'm not familiar with.  And then there are the old reliables, and in this case I do mean old - Greil Marcus and Robert Christgau.  Marcus doesn't write album reviews much any more, but his Real Life Rock Top Ten - wherever it may be residing at any given moment - has always been an indispensable source of what I'd call "fringe music."  And Christgau, nearing 80 now, is still plugging away with a new version of his Consumer Guide, which he is now publishing using a subscription model.

What does any of this have to do with Soccer Mommy?  Think of it as a roadmap - in order to discover an artist like Soccer Mommy (real name: Sophie Allison), you've got to put in the work.  And in this case, it was well worth the effort.  The album "Clean" took a few listens to sink in for me, but "Your Dog" made an impression right away.  It's the kind of song where you catch a fragment of a lyric on first listen, and then you're almost afraid to find out what it's all about.  As this piece on NPR notes, "It's a song reclaiming agency and identity taken by another person's condescension, control and abuse."  That tells you what you need to know.

Think of it as the link between Liz Phair and Taylor Swift.  

Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #49 - "Your Dog," Soccer Mommy.

The Top 50 Songs of the Decade

First of all, before anyone decides to give me a hard time with the "the decade of the 2010s didn't start until 2011" argument, I'm using the definition of "decade" which  simply states, "a period of ten years."

It took a little longer than expected to winnow the list down to 50 (there were some really painful cuts involved; I'm very sorry, Cardi B), but it's ready to go, so this little series will carry the blog through the end of the year.  Counting down, Casey Kasem style, my Top 50 Songs of the Decade.  If you don't see and hear something you enjoy, then you need to work on your musical tastes.

We begin the countdown with a living legend:



My parents and aunts took me to see Willie Nelson for my 21st birthday, which for those keeping track, was 38 years ago.  He was a grizzled veteran then, so I'm not even sure what to call him now.  But he's still writing great songs, still singing great songs, and by all appearances, still smoking only the best weed.

"Me and You," Willie Nelson (2018).   The old man clearly has an astute observation or two left up his sleeve.

More on The Highwomen

One sign of a great album is that you keep changing your mind about which song is the best.

Right now, "My Only Child" fits that bill for me on "The Highwomen."  And shame on me for not even mentioning it in my previous post.

Co-written by Natalie Hemby, Amanda Shires, and Miranda Lambert, it's the only song on the album that features a lead vocal by Hemby.

It's a magnificent song.  And the more I listen to and think about the album, the more it becomes a contender for my favorite album of 2019.

The Highwomen: Setting a Crowded Table

We are the highwomen, we sing stories still untold
We carry the sons you can only hold
We are the daughters of the silent generations
You sent our hearts to die alone in foreign nations
It may return to us as tiny drops of rain
But we will still remain

The Highwomen are one of the year's best music stories.  From left to right on the album cover, the group is comprised of Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, Natalie Hemby and Amanda Shires.  If not exactly household words, all four have been very successful artists in their own right - Hemby primarily as a songwriter, the other three as singers and songwriters.  Carlile, Shires and Morris have all recorded excellent albums in the past year.  But over time, this album may come to be viewed as their legacy.

I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we're young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done

It's not news that the country radio establishment has been shutting out the best women artists for a long time.  You could call "The Highwomen" a concept album in response to that unfortunate situation, but it's less a direct response than an alternative.  As Shires put it recently in an interview, the four came together with the desire to be inclusive.  When you listen to songs like "Crowded Table" (lyrics above) and "Redesigning Women," that theme is readily apparent.  Again proving the point, guests like Sheryl Crow and Yola show up on a couple of the album's tracks, and the video for "Redesigning Women" (see below) features a number of their fellow artists, including Tanya Tucker and Wynonna Judd.



But as strong as the concept is, having a strong concept wouldn't mean anything unless it was accompanied by a strong set of songs.  On that score, the album is a complete success.  Each artist brings their own style to the table, but the best songs are those that meld their strengths, and even more importantly, their voices.  In addition to the songs above, highlights include "Highwomen," which revisits (with his blessing)  the Jimmy Webb tune that provided The Highwaymen (Cash, Nelson, Jennings and Kristofferson) with their moniker; "Old Soul," which just might be the best song that Maren Morris has recorded to date; and "Wheels of Laredo," the album closer.  But every song is good, and there's plenty of humor (much of it self-deprecating) to go around.

Without a doubt, one of the notable albums of the year.

#SaveSI

Deep down, my guess is that the effort to save Sports Illustrated is doomed to fail.  On the one hand, it's not that difficult to understand - the magazine has been a shadow of its former self for a while now, which has been the case for many formerly great weekly periodicals.  It's now a biweekly publication, and the days are long past when the stories have the same kind of immediacy they did back in the pre-Internet era. 

But on the other hand, the thinking that goes into this kind of decision on the part of TheMaven makes no sense to me.  My son has now worked for two companies in the past year that were acquired by a larger company, with the only apparent purpose seeming to be to run the business into the ground and then sell the spare parts for profit.  Someone must be making a lot of money from these types of business strategies, but there doesn't seem to be much point to the exercise, aside from that.

If we are near the end of Sports Illustrated, that is something worth mourning.  For more than 60 years, the magazine was a source of incredible writing, and incredible photography.  There are a dozen or so boxes sitting out in my garage, and inside of them are old copies of Sports Illustrated, going all the way back to 1969.  Sports Illustrated has been an important part - a formative part - of my life.  Its legacy will live on through the former writers who go on to work in other venues, but even if that happens (and it has already happened in some instances), it just won't be the same.

Farewell, Bruce Bochy

Confession time - when Bruce Bochy was manager of the San Diego Padres, I couldn't stand the man.  My ire was directed more at the narrative that was constructed around him at the time.  He was a "genius!" And when you watched a baseball game during that era - and in this instance, I'm thinking more of the national telecasts than the local broadcasts with Kruk & Kuip, or Jon Miller - you could not go more than an inning or two without some commentary about whatever managerial move Bochy was making, and how that particular move manifested some type of rare genius.

It was annoying, and it got bad enough that when the Padres faced the best Yankees team in decades during the 1998 World Series, I actually rooted for the Yankees - which went against every fiber of my sports fan being, which has always been attracted to the underdog, unless one of the combatants is my team (or a team that I can't stand).  And when a managerial blunder (defined by Bill James as an out of the ordinary move that doesn't work) cost the Padres a game...well, let's just say I didn't feel too bad about it.

So when the Giants announced in October 2006 that they were bringing Bochy on board to succeed Felipe Alou, you didn't see me jumping for joy.  And after two seasons of more than 90 losses, it seemed just a matter of time before the Giants would be looking for Bochy's successor.  But things turned in a positive direction the following year, thanks in large part to the skinny kid in the above photo, a pitcher who looked like his arm might fall off every time he took the mound.  He's not going to make the Hall of Fame, but for a 3-4 year period, he was as good a pitcher as anyone has ever seen.  There's a bobblehead of him in my office, and he's holding his two Cy Young Awards.  Not too shabby.

And then the following year, a World Series Championship that seemed as if it would never come - at least not during my lifetime.  That was the year of torture, as the Giants found new ways to make things more dramatic than they needed to be.  Throughout it all, Bochy was the rock around which everyone would gather.  It was a glorious time.  And when it happened again in 2012 - the "never say die" year - and 2014, the year we were probably the 7th or 8th best team in baseball, we were well into territory that would have seemed corny even for a Hollywood movie.

The last few seasons haven't been that great, but so what?  How many baseball fans can say that they got to see their team bring home the trophy three times in five years?  And no matter important one believes a manager to be to a team's success, you can't argue with what Bruce Bochy has been able to accomplish.  You could call it luck, I suppose - but the way that he squeezed the best out of his players, including many that people had given up on, you have to give him credit.  He was able to do what few before him were able to do.  And he didn't need to be a genius - he just needed to be Bruce Bochy.

At the end of the day, Bochy's bust will be in Cooperstown, and that honor will be well deserved.

Apropos of Nothing: The Reboot

When this blog began a little over 13 years ago, it was called "Apropos of Nothing."  Within a month of opening up shop, I realized there was another blog with that name, so it became "Stuff Running 'Round My Head," after the Bruce Springsteen song of that name ("I got stuff running 'round my head/That I just can't live down").  Truth be told, I was afraid that having a blog name that someone else was already using might drive down traffic to my own site.  I'm not sure how many people I expected to read my stuff, but it became pretty clear, fairly quickly, that it was not going to be a huge number and that I was not going to be plucked from the relative obscurity of working for (at the time) a statewide education association.  At this point I know longer care about either of those things.

In the early years, I was a posting fool.  There were pieces about music, movies, sports, politics (which died down over time, particularly when I went back into the lobbying business), and any other thing that inspired, perplexed, or annoyed me.  Over the years, the number of posts dropped precipitously, to the point where they've almost become non-existent.  Most of my quick thoughts can now be found on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.  That seems to be the case for a lot of other folks, since the number of blogs I read on a regular basis has dwindled down to a handful.  Through pieces I've written, I've made connections with some really cool and talented people, and that's always been the point, right?

Nearly all of my writing these days is related to my work.  But my guess is that most people aren't that interested in the bang-up job I did on letters to Governor Newsom requesting a signature on AB 48 or a veto of AB 218 and SB 328.  Or on the amazing issue-oriented memorandums I prepare on a regular basis.  Now, you may not be interested in what shows up here, either - but this is going to be an outlet for my own sanity, if nothing else.  It's a self-commitment to take a break every now and then and write about something, as noted above, that moves me in one particular direction or another.

Having done so too many times, I'm leery of over-committing, but let's just say that there absolutely will be at least one new piece posted here each week.  Tomorrow, look for the first one.

One of These Days, I'll Learn: Billie Eilish

When she first hit the airwaves, I was mystified - I just didn't get it.  And then she was everywhere, including the cover of Rolling Stone.

That's OK, I thought - hell, at 59 years old, old enough to be her grandfather; this music wasn't meant for me.  You can't like everything, right?

And then this, from last night's season premiere of Saturday Night Live.  I was pretty tired and struggling to stay awake, but made it through the entire show.  It's fair to say this (and her other performance) is the only thing that stuck in my memory.   This is the kind of song that has a direct line into my psyche.  It's difficult to explain why; it's a much about the sound as it is what the singer is singing about.  But now it's probably just a matter of time before I pick up the entire album.

The Albums of 2018 - For Posterity

• She Remembers Everything - Rosanne Cash
• Interstate Gospel - Pistol Annies
• Live From The Ryman - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
• The Eclipse Sessions - John Hiatt
• Bottle It In - Kurt Vile
• Look Now - Elvis Costello & The Imposters
• 13 Rivers - Richard Thompson
• Desperate Man - Eric Church
• Out of the Blues - Boz Scaggs
• In the Blue Light - Paul Simon
• Egypt Station - Paul McCartney
• Everything is Love - The Carters
• Shooter - Shooter Jennings
• To the Sunset - Amanda Shires
• Plays Well With Others - Lera Lynn
• Nearer My God - Foxing
• God's Favorite Customer - Father John Misty
• Kids See Ghosts - Kanye West & Kid Cudi
• Daytona - Pusha T
• Ye - Kanye West
• Isolation - Kali Uchis
• May Your Kindness Remain - Courtney Marie Andrews
• Bad Witch - Nine Inch Nails
• Things Change - American Aquarium
• Years - Sarah Shook & The Disarmers
• Tell Me How You Really Feel - Courtney Barnett
• Things Have Changed - Bettye Lavette
• Clean - Soccer Mommy
• Dirty Computer - Janelle Monae
• Free Yourself Up - Lake Street Dive
• Good Thing - Leon Bridges
• Girl Going Nowhere - Ashley McBryde
• Golden Hour - Kacey Musgraves
• Restoration - Various Artists
• Sparrow - Ashley Monroe
• There's a Riot Going On - Yo La Tengo
• Boarding House Reach - Jack White
• By the Way, I Forgive You - Brandi Carlile
• All American Made - Margo Price

Your 2019 Masters Champion

There was a time when I wrote so many posts about Tiger Woods that he had his own "tag."  You can find it on the sidebar, and if you click it you'll see that it's been a little more than 9 years since the last post.  It might as well be a lifetime.

Around the time of this blog's debut, Tiger was on one of those streaks when it seemed as if he would never lose again.  It was late summer, 2006.  He had just won four consecutive tournaments, including the Open at Hoylake and the PGA Championship at Medinah.  Any debate over his passing Jack Nicklaus as the golfer with the most major championships was centered on when, not if, that would happen.  Literally anything seemed possible.  Little did we know, the clock was ticking and his time at the top was almost up.

He won the PGA again in 2007, and at the U.S. Open in June 2008 he turned in one of the most amazing performances in the history of the sport.  Armed with a decade of hindsight, it seems obvious that he should have sat that one out.  Watching at the time, we could see the pain he was in, as he hobbled up and down the fairways of Torrey Pines and did the sorts of things that he always had done - make impossible shots look easy, and make the easy shots better and more often than anyone else.  It was a great triumph.  At my office on the day of his 18-hole playoff with Rocco Mediate, several of us spent the afternoon running back and forth down the hall, towards the one office that had a television.  That day, one of our group speculated that Tiger would end up with 22 majors before his career was over.  Again, little did we know.

Much of what transpired after that triumph was ugly, or sad, or a combination of the two.  It wasn't the first time in the history of sports that we discovered a chasm between an athlete's public persona and their personal lives, but it was certainly one of the most painful.  After Tiger returned to golf, every now and then we'd see flashes of the old brilliance.  For a time, he continued to win tournaments.  He contended in an handful of majors, but never came close to capturing #15.  People stopped talking about his chances to pass Nicklaus, and many people shut down the debate in their own minds about which all-time great was better.  And Tiger's body continued to deteriorate, to the point where he reportedly told friends and fellow golfers that he wondered if he'd ever play again.

Following spinal fusion surgery, he mounted another comeback.  And this time, he began to play well enough that one began to wonder: just how far might he come back?  When he won the Tour Championship last September, it was a wonderful moment.  It would have been enough - he had proven that once again, he could triumph over the best golfers in the world, in an atmosphere that was close to what he'd confront in a major tournament. 

Heading into this year's major season, I really thought he had a chance to win one.  I didn't think it would be at Augusta.  More likely Pebble Beach at the U.S. Open, or even more likely at Bethpage Black, which will be hosting the PGA Championship next month.  He's won majors at both venues, and it just seemed to be asking too much to think that he could triumph at Augusta and don the green jacket for the fifth time.  There's a lot of really great players right now, and unlike the days when Tiger began his era of dominance, nearly all of them are as physically fit as he was in his prime.

It was a busy week at work, so I didn't get to see much more than a few highlights of the first two rounds.  But what I saw, and what my friends and fellow golf fans were telling me, was that from tee to green, he was dominant - clearly better than the field.  His kryptonite seemed to be putts in the 6-12 foot range, and if he could start dropping some of those, who knew what might be possible. 

When the final round began early on Sunday, a lot earlier than normal due to the threat of heavy weather later in the day, I was as nervous as I'd ever been watching a golf tournament.  And as it began to play out on the back nine, it seemed almost like a miracle.  Tiger wasn't quite as dominant as Nicklaus' 30 on the back nine in 1986, but at the same time it felt similar, as the drama and pressure of the moment began to claim one major champion after another - Molinari and Koepka at 12, and then Molinari again at 15 - while Tiger himself did everything he needed to do.

And most notably, while playing smart golf - conservative when the occasion demanded, not trying to take more than the golf course was prepared to give him.  And when he flirted with a hole-in-one on 16, and then made the birdie, it was just a matter of time.  He was going to be the 2019 Masters Champion.  And when it happened, it was glorious moment.  And not just because of the accomplishment, but because of the way he reacted to it.  We've never seen Tiger that happy following a victory, with the possible exception of his first Masters championship more than two decades ago.  Then, he embraced his father.  Now, he embraced his son, then his daughter, and then his mother.  The smile did not go away.  And he seemed to realize just how lucky a man he is. 

Back in his days of dominance, he attacked the game of golf as if it were his enemy.  There were few things in sports as unpleasant as watching Tiger Woods on a day when his game was off.  I hope I'm not wrong about this, but I don't think we'll be seeing that Tiger Woods again.  He's got nothing left to prove at this point.  During the weekend, someone - it may have been Jim Nantz - noted Tiger had said, "I don't need to win any more majors.  But I want to."  With this one under his belt, it's only natural that we begin to speculate about more - after all, he's already won majors at both Bethpage and Pebble - but everything that comes after this is just icing on the cake.  This was the big one.  This was the weekend where he made his case for being the greatest golfer of all time.  And it was a pretty damn good case.

Tiger Woods.  Your 2019 Masters Champion.