I flat love the British open. I love the early start for those of us over here in the states, the lousy weather, the links courses, the wind blowing off the Atlantic, the whole damn deal.
Now I've got more to love. A lot more to love. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Beef Johnston:
He's all gut, beard, and bad teeth, and I love him to death.
There is nothing better than bad-body athletes. So, Mr. Beef, welcome to the likes of those I've loved like Charles Barkley, Cecil Fielder, Jerome Bettis, Harold Snepts, and all the others that looked more like they sat more on barstools than they did practicing their craft.
Where's the beef, indeed.