So, the news trickles out, as it always does, that Donald Trump has once again bagged himself a club championship. This time it was at his Bedminster course in Jersey, where he apparently snagged both the Senior and Super Senior titles, reportedly carding a tidy 70 in the final round. And the collective reaction? A collective shrug. We're supposed to be gobsmacked, right? But honestly, after all these years, what else would we expect?
This latest triumph supposedly pushes his career haul of club championships into the "40-something" territory. It’s a number that makes you pause. Back in the day, a writer named Rick Reilly, bless his cynical heart, didn't quite buy it. He remembered watching Trump flail out of bunkers and generally look less like a golf legend and more like a guy who’d just discovered the sport. Reilly’s theory? Trump simply declared a new course opening a championship. It’s a solid strategy, really. If you build the damn thing, you can absolutely claim you conquered it.
Trump, of course, hit back with his usual defense: pure, unadulterated 'TALENT.' He’s got it, you don’t. Meanwhile, the whispers from alleged ex-caddies paint a slightly different picture. They talk of a finely tuned operation: caddies scouting ahead to "fluff" lies (because a divot is just an insult to greatness), discreetly tossing balls out of bunkers, and conceding short putts before they even get close. Apparently, the caddy’s primary job is to ensure Trump emerges victorious and with the lowest score. Sounds less like golf, more like a highly specialized concierge service.
Whatever the truth is, he's still claiming the wins, with some Bedminster observers now putting the tally at a whopping 43. And nobody’s surprised he’s not backing down. It’s golf, after all. And it’s him. What other outcome could there possibly be?