The Franchise Babe
Chapter One
1
All it took to bring out the Texas in me was one look at the lady in the -jacked-up mini standing by the ninth green. I thought, man, if this is a golf mom, you can dip my ass in batter and fry me for dinner.
The -jacked-up mini was bright blue, the legs were tan. They were toned and shaped and it was a good guess she could kick a hole in the ceiling of a motel room if she was on her back doing what it looked like she could do best. I might add that she was also -first-team upstairs in a -formfitting, sleeveless, -scoop-neck white top-and if those were -store-boughts, she damn sure got her money's worth. But all this was merely the opinion of Jack Brannon, white man, -forty-seven, sportswriter, and spiritual person of great depth, which was me.
I was at this tournament for chicks. You could say I was trying to change my luck. Or you could say I'd grown tired of writing Tiger Woods, comma. For more than twenty years I'd been covering the PGA Tour, but in the last ten or twelve years all I'd done was write about Tiger whipping up on a bunch of slugs-in his sleep, blindfolded, with one endorsement contract tied behind him. I nee ... read full excerpt from: The Franchise Babe ebook
