A few highlights from "Cinderella Story: My Life in Golf" (Doubleday), the new memoir by Bill Murray (with some assistance from golf writer George Peper), which isn't just about golf:
On missing out on the part of the innkeeper in the school Christmas play:
Hey, it's a bad-guy part and you can score with those. But not just bad ... complex ... Excuse me? Matt Klein? The innkeeper will be played by Matt Klein? Tailspin. Free fall. Rapid substance abuse (chocolate milk), withdrawal, followed by a pint-sized James Mason walking into the ocean.
On the author's deep respect for PGA tour events:
When the circus leaves town, it's truly missed, and folks look forward to next year's return. That's more than I can say for some of the movie crews I've been a part of. There is respect for the local environment. They say thanks, they recycle, they put on an exhibition, sometimes even a show. Golf is perhaps the only professional sport that realizes a gravy train with biscuit wheels shouldn't leave ruts.
Other highlights: His recollections of kicking Michael Jordan's butt on the green. His reflections on the impossibility of giving up rock candy for Lent. And the picture captions, such as the one for the scrubbed-clean best-bib-and-tucker high-school picture that reads, "Yep. Tied it myself."
For Murray, life is just context. Everything else is golf.
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