I would like to make a full and unreserved apology to Dayne Zorko the Magnificent.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry that I let my feelings get in the way of picking you up - but it wasn't that I didn't love you, no, I thought that my love was foolhardy, and that by overriding my heart's desire, I was making the better, stronger choice.
I was wrong.
You were priced at $408, 500, a bargain for such wizardry. You came off a 91 and a 93, you, in your infinite wisdom, were showing me that you had what it took, whilst remaining affordable for weeks. But I had little faith, and instead picked a man, who, for $96, 200 more, gave me scores of 57, 65, 121 and 73. That man's name was Shane Edwards, and this week he made way for the Little Master.
Of course, I saw my error by the first week, but I tried to rationalize my folly. "Sure," I told myself. "It's a decent score, but he's just as likely to drop in a 40." You scored 119. "Yeah, but what happens when you face Fremantle. Let's face it, you'd be lucky to score a half century." 124. And now, after another 124 and a 145, Dayne, you are out of reach.
And you stay that way, you glorious man.