Might I have the humility to conquer the mighty muni? What would it mean to reign supreme over the great equalizer, the omnipresent goat track where backspin and sidespin, loft and lie, stiffness and flexibility, are rendered insignificant? In the end, there is no finer place to reduce the touring professional to one of us, no finer place to watch her or his shots bound endlessly off concrete greens, through pavement fairways, off threadbare tee blocks, into infamy. No gallery nor grandstand to rebound shots toward safety; no grass pillows from which to play soaring iron shots to receptive targets. This is the muni, the netless basketball court, the unmarked soccer pitch, the dirt baseball field. It is where all arrogance becomes humility, this I give to you. This I embrace.