Since Sunday, the golf and sporting world has been in a tizzy trying to solve whose fart it was that was caught by CBS mics at Warwick Hills in the Sunday final round of the Buick Open.  Most people thought it was Tiger himself.  Some thought it was Stevie Williams.  David Feherty appears willing to take the fall based on what he told the Dan Patrick radio show.

I farted, too.  I ate some bad carmelized potatoes at brunch on Sunday.  Then I went home to watch the Buick Open on the couch with my Go Tiger! banner and pom-poms.

Then it struck.  There was a rumbling in my stomach and I knew it was going to have smelly consequences.  I held it in as long as I could.  I was so enthralled by Tiger playing defensive golf and holding back the challenge from the likes of Michael Letzig, Lenny Dykstra, and whoever else was playing in that tournament.  I was trying to hard to wait until Tiger made his 69th PGA Tour victory official before unleashing a stink parade for the ages - one so legendary that it would make Jim Nantz come up with some kind of awful pun to describe it.

But, on the last hole, I couldn't hold it in anymore.  I ripped one.  It was loud.  It smelled - SO bad.  I was just so happy that David Feherty timed his gastric movements with mine.  It was like a cosmic gift that I didn't have to take credit for that awful sound in front of my fiancee and my future in-laws.

In fact, I even told them all that CBS was experiementing on Sunday with broadcasting in Smell-o-vision.  At least then they might believe that the smell of rotten eggs that polluted the room came from Michigan and not me.  They seemed to buy it as they pinched their noses and I maintained a stoic facial expression.

That's why I didn't cover the story over the past few days.  I felt so guilty in blaming my own flatulence on some poor Irishman who was just trying to do his darndest to not fart rain on the parade of the final Buick Open.

Now that the real source of the fart has been revealed, I felt that I had to come clean.  I already did so literally speaking after the whole incident.  But I wanted to do so figuratively too.

So, to everyone in that living room, I apologize.  I'm sorry for ruining a few short minutes of your Sunday afternoon.  I'm sorry to David Feherty for blaming him and Smell-o-vision instead of taking responsibility.

Next time, I'll make sure to just walk out of the room first.