Unlike in the British Golf World, Sports Don't Stop for Animal Problems in Arkansas

FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. – Seeing all these rich golfers struggle with the local wild life at the British Open, my bad, The Open, because the British part of the title didn't seem haughty enough, offered a bit of comic relief after a long week of 20 hour days of trying to drag something interesting out of SEC media days.

Golfer Viktor Hovland lost his, well, poo, after one of the local fowl decided he provided a nice target to make the act of relieving itself a bit more fun. Then, early Saturday morning, things shut down because an amphibian known as a natterjack toad that only exists near the lake along which the course is built, hopped onto the fairway, immediately shutting everything down while officials tried to locate the, and this isn't an exaggeration, one person legally sanctioned to move this super endangered animal.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

A rare species of a toad stopped play at the British open.

😂😂😂😂😂 https://t.co/X3VCGHZLp7
— Midwest Iowa girl (@Maga4Justice) July 22, 2023

Had this been a collection of good ol' boys from the deep woods of South Arkansas as opposed to country club types, this would have been a much different scene. First off, when that bird dropped its payload on one of the guy's arm, he would have called his caddy over while he pretended to point out the lie with the affected area tilted away until the caddy moved close enough to swipe his arm past the unsuspecting cheek of his buddy. The language captured on the mic would feature much more extensive color than Hovland presented as revenge swipes would be in order.

As for that toad, the game would still stop, but only because the golfer who happened upon him would have to run grab the fishing pole out the back of his truck. Sure it would be Britain's version of a federal crime, but no man worth is salt from the southern part of the state is going to pass up prime bait to catch a, uh, bass? Do they have bass in Britain?

Hold on. Be right back. Hang tight.

Yep. Looks like they do indeed have bass fishing in Britain, so that little toad is as good as gone. He's going for a swim in ye old fish tank. However, odd fact. It is illegal to fish in the UK between December and February. That doesn't affect this scenario, but it's certainly a law that won't fly in Arkansas. It says it's to protect the breeding population, which begs the question, when in the world are these British fish spawning?

While animals might be a disruptive element across the pond, history says animals are not going to cause so much as a moment's delay in a place known as The Natural State. Remember that raccoon that popped in for a visit at the Arkansas baseball game? There was no delay while someone sought out an officially licensed animal removal person. Some Razorback fan just snatched him up by the nape of the neck snarling and clawing away and escorted the masked bandit out of the stadium.

In Greenbrier, down on the northern edge of what's considered central Arkansas, there's a beautiful nine hole golf course bouncing off the edges of several hills. Back during the days of needing to find a way to connect with my newly minted in-laws, I tagged along for a few golf outings. It would have been more enjoyable if the goal had been to simply drive a few laps on the ole golf cart at full speed followed by an hour or so fishing in the pond without the pesky game getting in the way, but, alas, we stopped to see how many balls I could lose in the woods and various water hazards. And while they were never threatened by my golf skills because they had wandered onto the fairway, there was almost always a guarantee that an armadillo, skunk, assorted squirrels and even deer were going to make an appearance. No one stopped. We just played through.

The closest a sporting event has been to getting delayed in Arkansas because of animals in my lifetime happened during a high school baseball game in a small town in the far southeast corner of the state called Eudora, home of a team that my memory says were Dragons and also Badgers at the same time. Around the year I arrived in high school, Warren, where I grew up, was a dying town struggling to hold on as the population dwindled. As a result, we fell a classification and into a district with small towns that dot the Mississippi River delta like Dermott and Eudora.

We should have been clued in back in the fall when the football team hit the road for an hour and a half trip for a conference game in the home of the Dragons/Badgers. The place was shockingly tiny, but not as shocking as the turn into a cotton field to get to the stadium. The football field was literally surrounded by an endless cotton patch. As the game went on, rabbits darted from the plants under the visitor stands to the cotton growing under the home stands.

Fast forward a few months and the baseball team pulled up to the Eudora High School baseball field. The outfield fence was made up of tomato sticks with nylon strung across to form the home run marker. That wasn't a big deal. Warren was only a few years removed from having tomato sticks making up the outfield fence itself. In right field was a large patch of wild flowers, which looked like it would be a possible problem on defense as the ball disappeared below the petals, but a potential weapon depending on how we were going to be pitched.

However, in the outfield, just loving life in dead center, was a flock of turkeys, and they seemed completely oblivious to us. These were the most domesticated wild turkeys ever. One of my teammates lamented not driving his own truck because there would have been an early Thanksgiving dinner for everyone while another made a mad screaming dash at them that accomplished absolutely nothing. They just kept pecking way.

So, everyone warmed up around them. As game time approached, the turkeys apparently got the message. They simply adjusted their gathering a few feet past the imaginary tomato stick home run fence.

Short of a field being covered in snakes, the game is going to go on in Arkansas without much thought. Even then, there are probably enough guns in the parking lot to clear the field and someone willing to haul off the carcasses to make a few pairs of boots.

So, when some fraternity decides it's time to finally turn this faux Battle Line Rivalry with Missouri into something people actually care about by filling the visiting locker room with skunks, the executives at CBS won't have to worry about their announcers vamping their way through a game delay like the NBC crew had to do Saturday. Everyone will simply hold their nose and do their best to keep the Thanksgiving leftovers down because, if it involves animals in the Natural State, the game must go on.

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