There I was at the peak of my career. I had just won two Oscars, seven Golden Globes, a Grammy, my third NBA Championship as well as my fourth Finals MVP, the Martin Luther King award for heroism, received my fifth Pulitzer Prize, my third Nobel Prize and was Playboy’s Playmate of the Year, again. But then I left it all behind, for what? Why? Well this is my story.

*Itch*

As a young man learning karate on filthy streets of La Jolla, I had to learn to survive on my own. It wasn’t easy growing up in that town. I remember a time when I had to eat my caviar without champagne… it was brutal! Somehow, I was able to make it through.

*Itch* *Itch*

I was only a child when I first had to fight off the dreaded paparazzi. It wasn’t easy being a child actor slash model slash football rising star. *Itch* *Itch* *Itch* Today, I look back and realize that my spirit, my very innermost being, who I am today is because of those dreaded days when I had to walk down that catwalk with shoes half a size too big. *Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch* And those nights I had to stay up all night because I had a rock concert where I needed to fill I for the sick guitarist or…. *Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch**Itch*

WHAT THE F*** IS THAT ITCHING!!!!

Oh, it was just a dream…. Damn mosquitoes!!! Where the hell am I? I got mosquito bites everywhere!!! Oh yeah, I’m in the Philippines.

In San Diego, the only things I couldn’t keep off me were girls…. Or was that a dream too….? DAMNIT!

I keep my eyes on the ball, my feet shoulder width apart, knees
slightly bent, left arm held straight, firm grip on my Five Iron and
then I swing away at the driving range. It’s a good hit for a beginner,
I make it over 100 yards, then I look back down, and there’s another
ball already waiting for me.

Next to the ball sits my lovely ball-girl, Chrislin, who’s sole purpose
for the next hour is to sit next to my golfing mat and make sure
there’s always a ball there right after I swing. No, I’m not a
millionaire and no, I’m not a pimp (though some may think differently);
the only thing different about me is that I am currently living in the
Philippines.

I’ve always wanted someone to be in charge of my balls.

I wonder what her resume looks like…

V.P. of Balls – City Golf Manila, Philippines 2006 – 2008

• Managed the proficient handling of clients’ balls to ensure a proper and timely stroke
• Responsible for customers’ balls; making certain they are tended to and cared for
• Trained over 30 interns on the importance and procedures for effective ball handling
• Ensured customer satisfaction

Let me re-emphasize the hilarity of this moment. I paid about 400 Pesos
or about 10 American Dollars for unlimited golf balls at a driving
range. With the balls, comes a tiny little Filipino girl who sits
inches away from my swinging Five Iron to place my golf balls on the
mat for me. Ghetto Superstar, that is what you are… well, that is what
I are… I mean I am… you get it!

No wait, it gets better; out of nowhere, these cardboard ninjas take
over the field. There must have been hundreds of them… well ok, maybe
just three, but it TOTALLY looked like there were hundreds… Anyway, I
start asking my friend what the hell those things are, and he says that
they’re the people who pick up the golf balls from the driving range.
Let me break it down for you, people who wear these huge cardboard
shields on one side, go out there with buckets and pick up the golf
balls from the driving range, one by one. And I was complaining about
my job at Burger King…

So Alvin, Simon and Theodore (yes, I named the cardboard ninjas after
the chipmunks) are out there picking up balls and Chrislin, my
ball-girl is sitting next to my swinging club. I couldn’t help but
realize how different of a place I’m in. I also couldn’t help but to
realize how much we tend to take for granted.

This article is meant to poke fun at the simplicities and commonalities
in everyday life that is often overlooked. It’s really eye opening
after coming back and living in a culture where people are DESPERATE
for a job. The economy is really poor here and people are struggling
just to survive. Hopefully one day, I can somehow make this world a
better place than when I found it; but for now, we’ll laugh at
ourselves and realize how spoiled, pampered and lucky we are to be able
to complain about our jobs that allow us to live a very comfortable
lifestyle.