“We are all this guy. Except me, because I’m not dumb enough to go golfing atop a frozen pond, and I’m not self-loathing enough to enjoy golf in the first place.”
Even if you held a gun to his head, I’m not sure Barry Petchesky could even begin to explain this bizarre comment that he penned for Deadspin this week.
Reach for some dental equipment à la the interrogation scene in Marathon Man, however, and I have every confidence that between sobs, he would quickly blurt out the sad truth. It was the first derogatory label he could think of and it seemed as good an insult as any.
I played golf for 15 years, have enjoyed it and the company of golfers for all my adult life, and am yet to encounter anyone with even good reason to self-loathe, let alone a proclivity for it.
Had Petchesky attacked us for snootiness or bad-taste clothing, he would have shown himself to be somewhat behind the times in attacking a sport about which he clearly knows nothing, but historically at least, he could have mustered a little context for his contention.
“Self-loathing”, however, is such a random, out-of-thin-air criticism that it deserves to be met with another one. That resentment born of a possibly-subconscious jealousy means that Barry Petchesky hates middle-class people at play so much that any old slur will do in his desperation to make a point.
Not knowing the first thing about him, I have no evidence with which to back up my claim, but at least that makes two of us.