Once again, Rory McIlroy must be kicking himself that he became a top international golfer instead of a grubbing hack. If you’re a writer and you somehow wangled a round of golf with the US president, no one would blame you for going along for a gawk. In fact, they’d blame you if you didn’t. You’d be failing in your duties, and questions would have to be asked.
What did you get into this game for, if it wasn’t to seize the chance of exclusive access to the most powerful man in the world (or maybe the second most, depending on where you stand on The Allegations)? You are duty-bound to be nosy, to observe every detail, and to take all you can from an afternoon inside Donald Trump’s leisure-industrial complex. And then, obviously, to tell the rest of us about it. We are all on this earth to have extraordinary experiences, are we not?
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