A chip off the old blockhead

Consider this an early Father's Day column. After all, if the past is any indication, I won't be on speaking terms with my dad come June.

Please don't take this the wrong way. I think my dad is a complete idiot. Wait, that didn't come out right. What I meant to say is he sometimes dresses as if his house didn't have any mirrors in it. Or windows. Or electricity. Dang it! Let's try this one last time. What I'm trying to say is I love my dad very much, it just so happens we usually get on each other's nerves within eight seconds of being together. My theory as to why this is the case is because we're probably too much alike.

For instance ...

MY DAD HAS: Never met a stranger.

I HAVE: Never met a stranger.

MY DAD LIKES: To be the center of attention.

I LIKE: To be the center of attention.

MY DAD WEARS: Pleated jeans shorts.

I TELL PEOPLE: I'm adopted.

But even though we have the potential to drive each other up the wall, some opportunities are just too good to pass up when it comes to spending quality time together. Like last week when he called and asked if I'd like to go with him to the Masters. Not since I was 11 have I been to Augusta National. By asking me to go, not only was he giving me the opportunity to revisit one of the greatest golf courses in the world, but also to relive our glory days back when we actually spoke to one another for more than 15 minutes at a time.

So at 8 a.m. Friday morning, the two of us met off Interstate 20 in Augusta and proceeded to get in a fistfight in the Huddle House parking lot. Just kidding. We actually hugged and reverted to our old ways of being best friends.

During the day, we strolled the golf course, ate pimiento cheese sandwiches and had a few beers. We watched great golf and even got to see Tiger Woods(' hat) as he walked to the first tee (yes, it was that crowded). But we spent the most time just sitting and talking in the bleachers to the left of No. 15. While there, we discovered several things:

--Most spectators dress as if they're expecting to be asked to play in the tournament.

--Keeping with the fashion theme, compared with your average German, my dad's fashion sense isn't all that bad.

--Sitting next to us was NFL quarterback Brad Johnson. I know this because he introduced himself to anyone who would listen as "Brad Johnson, NFL quarterback."

--Apparently, and keep in mind this is according to the drunk guy sitting behind us, Australia is now a part of Europe.

--A world without cell phones is a world I could get used to.

But most importantly, I discovered that my dad and I should spend more time together. For nearly eight hours, we were connected at the hip (except when we went to the bathroom and the stupid attendant made us use separate stalls) and somehow didn't drive each other crazy. In fact, quite the opposite happened. We bonded just like old times.

Why this happened I'm not completely sure. Maybe the past couple of years have mellowed him so that my nonstop talking doesn't get on his nerves. Or maybe, and this is the more likely explanation, he's finally gone deaf.

Either way, it was one of the best times I've had with the old man in a long, long time. The reason being: I think I've finally accepted the fact that we're cut from the same cloth. You know, except my dad's piece is half-plaid, half-stripes and probably part of a mock turtleneck.

In closing, Dad, if you're reading this, I love you.

Oh, and you might want to cut this column out because the odds are pretty good next time we see each other we'll be back to not speaking again.

<strong>Bryce Donovan</strong> has a sneaking suspicion Elton John takes his fashion cues from Randy Donovan. Reach him (Bryce, not Elton or Randy) at 937-5938 or <a href="mailto:bdonovan@postandcourier.com">bdonovan@postandcourier.com</a>.

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