Trent is BACK on his home course for the latest attempt at Breaking 90!
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Just crickets on the car ride home
The more videos the better, but from the first one I never understood why they didn’t do breaking 95 before going to breaking 90…
Dear Trent,
I can’t take this anymore. I’m happy for Franky’s improvements, and I know you are too, and I’m happy for the sport of golf. But sitting here alone, on another bleak Hump Day night, watching the fireflies outside the window, I can’t escape my own truth. And my truth is that I dreamed of something different this weekend. Something more. I’m talking about real-life dreams, Trent, not like at night when I have nightmares of being chased by wolf-cats with the face of Steve from Good Good.
I dreamed of you winning in the light of day, and why wouldn’t I? You’ve been on pace to break 90 before. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, a real Dustin Johnson and Paulina Gretzky and a mound of kikane type, but I believed again. I believed in you. Maybe you’re like the firefly, Trent. You shone so brightly, so spectacularly, but for such a short time. And also like the firefly, I assume you don’t want to be captured in a jar.
Now that the sun has set on another Break 90 attempt, I have to ask a hard question: what changed? What’s different about this week, where you started off on pace after bogeying hole 1? Or other weeks when you’ve had 2 over after hole 3 starts? And that was just this past year. How long have we been doing this? How long have you persisted in giving me false hope, only to yank it away repeatedly, like when my so-called friend in high school would offer me a ride home, then pull ahead a few feet the minute I reached the passenger door, over and over until I would start to chase him in a blind rage, only to learn a lesson that many a dog learned long ago, which is that you cannot catch a car on foot, and even if you do, it’s basically impregnable?
How many weeks have I made excuses? How many times have I told everyone, “yeah, he hasn’t broke 90 yet, but look at his improvement off the tee and his iron striking? You just don’t understand him like I do.”
My parents said I was a fool. “Why waste your time with him?” they said. “Find yourself someone young and exciting, like Garrett Clark, or maybe a nice stable gentleman like Grant Horvat. Did you know he’s gone off on his own? And he goes to church!”
Oh, I’d defend you. Sometimes viciously. “Remember when he broke 100?!” I’d yell. “Remember that long putt?! Remember his 95 when had 2 quads?! How he faced down Garden City Country Club and stood astride the game on the 18th like Colossus?! Do you remember that, you *$%&$*ing #$(&#$s?! LIKE A COLOSSUS!”
But those are memories now. Memories from a full 2 years ago. You know what else happened 2 years ago? I have no idea. The Covid thing? Something with Yugoslavia? Nobody knows. How long can a relationship last on memories? On what was, instead of what is and what will be? How long am I supposed to pretend we’re both still the young, innocent kids we were then, cocky and cool, you out there making great strides, me sitting around watching you wondering if the <100 sign was backwards? How long can I pretend that's the reality of our relationship, and not the dull "old couple sighing at each other over a 4:30 p.m. dinner" stagnation that has settled in since?
As harsh as this sounds, when I look at you during Break 90 attempts, I find myself asking, "do I actually feel anything for this person anymore? Do I even know him? Have I ever really known him, or is this just a weird parasocial relationship that's going to end with me writing an even weirder breakup letter to a man who wouldn't know my name if I shouted it in his face 10 times in a row, which I did once at the Tour Championship, and I apologize for that, both to you, to Franky, and to all my readers, because I hold myself to a higher standard than that as an avid YouTube Golf watcher, and there's a drive to deep left field by Castellanos, and I'm not sure I'm going to be published in these pages again?"
Sure, I still feel the flames. At times. That 93 at Colonial. A couple other 90's rounds. We had some good times w the pros in some vids. Morikawa. Fleetwood. The Fore Man Scramble vs Billy Horschel, I guess? And yeah, even last attempt at Moorpark in Los Angeles. Even then, the fire was burning, and it's hard to get a metaphorical fire going in Canada. Or a real one. Too much snow, I'm told. But it was a 95 with some promising stuff.
But a man gets worn down. Hope dissipates, belief wanes. And who are we now, really? If I'm honest with myself, I'm someone who has wasted 2 years of my life waiting for a transformation. And you're someone who can definitely do it.
God, it's hard to write those words. I know why people stay together—it's because of time invested, it's because of fear of the unknown, it's because of the deadening force of habit. But it's also because there was something genuine there, once upon a time. Remember when you made that birdie on 7 at Cuscowilla? Remember?? Or even the birdie on 8 today.. Magical! It's a small thing... But sometimes is the small things that keep us going. I'm not saying you need to make a birdie every Break 90 attempt. But will no quads on the front kill ya??
There's no way around this, Trent. I can't keep doing this. It's time for me to see other golfers. Someone like...
...
...
... OK, well if you put me on the spot, I'm not going to be able to just yell out a name. That's not fair. I'm not Rod Roddy here, just yelling out names willy-nilly. Sure, that's a really sad, dated reference, but it's a metaphor for what we had. Sad. Dated. I'll always wish you well, and I'll smile a sad nostalgic smile when you post a 94, but this isn't good for either of us.
I know what you're thinking: "You've said you were leaving before. You'll be back, just like always, you creep. You pathetic loser. You fat aging has-been."
First off, there's no need for those kinds of insults. This is a tough time for all of us, but come on, man. That's really personal.
Second off, there is nothing that could bring me back. Not this time. Etch it in stone.
[Unless, of course, you do anything remotely promising before, during, or even after I've skipped watching a few attempts and my friends have to tell me about it on some random tee box before I send one off into the woods because they bring up your name and it leaves a sour feeling in stomach (could've been all the grease missiles and beers at the turn). Literally anything. Then? I'm back, all in, and ready to catch that Trent fever, baby!]
In conclusion, we're done.
Sean
Credit to Shane Ryan for his letter to Rory in Golf Digest.
Why should we care to watch this garbage if trent clearly doesnt care either? I started a huge fan of this series, but its clearly gone downhill fast. Not invested at all at this point.
if you’re trying to break 90 why are we hero playing the 2nd shot on a par 5 trying to make birdies. You’d be so surprised you can easily make a par if you take a little medicine. I get going for it is fun i do it all the time, but break 90 MY GUY
I cried so many tears of laughter on hole 5 😂😂😂
I think ill fast forward this one to 18 after that 10 😔
You can do it trent daddy 🏆
We all have those days Trent Daddy….
It’s coming… I can feel it in my loins.
Breakin 75 Frankie Breakin 90 Trent combined episode, Trent plays better when focus is on someone else. Just my opinion might make a great episode🤔