Of course, no one could believe it. Not the other racers, suffering in breathless, fatless, body fluidless agony as they realize what just happened. Not the guy watching the race on his TV in the commercial, spilling his coffee on the floor because he can’t believe what he just saw. But I thought that was cool. Sitting on my overstuffed rear in my easy chair at home, I cheered this humongous sumo guy on.

Of course, I knew in real life fat guys just couldn’t do that. Fat guys can’t run 26 miles, even if they want to. Let alone stay close enough to the lead, to shock the racing shorts off of everybody with a victorious last second sprint. That kind of thing is not in a fat guy’s enormous genes.

But then I watched a true miracle take place. I watched that bloated Brit Lee Westwood roll over Tiger Woods on his way to winning the Deutsche Bank Open on Sunday. He instantly became my hero. Because, you see, I’m big boned, just like Lee Westwood.

Westwood’s charge to take the cup in Alveslohe, Germany was an inspiration to millions of us fat guys around the world. He put skinny guys like Woods, and Duval, and Leonard on notice that we’re not just slow motion targets anymore. If they want to win from now on, they have to dance with the big boys. And we don’t mean slow dance.

But my favorite fat guy almost didn’t see his greatest triumph become reality. It was only eight days earlier that Westwood was so disgusted with his play, that he admitted to reporters that he was ready to walk away from the game. Westwood finished so far down the field in his last two tournaments that he wasn’t sure he was good enough to play with the Slim Jims at the top. He had bought into a new health regimen in March that hadn’t seemed to pay any dividends yet.

If I had been there I would have given Big Lee this advice, "C’mon lad, buck up. You are following in the footsteps of some great fat guys. And all of us waistline challenged guys are looking up to you to carry our great tradition on."

I would have reminded him that Babe Ruth was a fat guy, and everybody thinks of him as the greatest baseball player that ever lived. He was the Sultan of Swat and the Swami of Salami. Man, could he pack it in and knock them out of sight.

Lee, you gotta take inspiration from the exploits of William "The Refrigerator" Perry who played back in the glory days of Mike Ditka’s Chicago Bears. He was fat and fast; and even though he was a lineman he carried the ball in for a score in Superbowl XX.

What about George Forman? Remember, Lee, George was the Olympic heavyweight gold medal winner in ’68 and the world champ in ’73. Twenty years later he was fat and happy when he knocked the "skinny" off of Michael Moore for his second championship belt. Boy, could fat George hit hard!

How can you disgrace the memory of that lovable round guy John Kruk? The Krukster looked about athletic as a sack of cement. But man, Kruk could play baseball. He was a 3-time all star and had a lifetime .300 batting average. He was fat, but he was good.

And please don’t let down the NBA’s Oliver Miller. The second coming of "Round Mound of Rebound". Nobody gets in Ollie’s way going down the court. Not if they expect to live, that is. It’s hard for us big guys to slow down and change direction, you know. And if you get him mad, he might come sit on you and do some serious damage.

Seeing as I didn’t get to say these things to Lee Westwood last weekend, someone evidently had to say something. From what I understand his golf coach, David Leadbetter, told him just to "enjoy yourself." And he heeded some words of wisdom from Tiger Woods, striving to pace himself through the grueling ordeal of a heated PGA competition.

Whatever they said worked, as Westwood proceeded to tear the field apart with 8 birdies on the last day for a tournament best round of 64. Lee matched Tiger shot for shot on this day. He hit every green and only missed one fairway. When he had to have the tough shot, he made it. Tiger finally faltered when he splashed on 11 and took a double-bogey. Westwood won the affair finishing with a 15-under 273. Stick-boy Tiger Woods ended up in a tie for third. Wimp!

So, with what looked like two guys stuffed in his expensive golf shirt, Lee Westwood strode on to victory and restored the unfit faith. He reinstated the fat man’s place in modern sport and mythology. Lee Westwood is my hero. Fat guys rule!

Copyright © 2000 by Steve Schindler. All rights reserved.