Wisdom is found in the darnedest places. It's there in the Bible, the Tao, the teachings of Confucius or the writings of Jackie Collins. Sometimes it's in that very special Hallmark card that perfectly, succinctly, and in iambic pentameter, sums up my feelings for a nephew's graduation. Amazingly, they're not just my feelings. They're the feelings universally held every year by every uncle of every graduate. Plus, there's always room for a crisp, new $5 bill.

Scholars, religious and otherwise, could study for years and never learn any truth more profound or simple than the current Garelick Farms ad campaign that states: "Life is what you add to it. Add something!" They're trying to sell milk, yet they seem more like a messenger of God. An angel of wisdom pouring -- not calcium enriched milk -- but a calcified certainty into a glass of half-empty hearts. Add something. Do something. Be something. Make a contribution. That's what that little kid in the radio spots is saying to me. And it moves me. It doesn't make me want to buy milk, but it makes me want to be a better person. I can't believe I'm alone in that.

People yearning to drink from the fountain of knowledge have been blessed with a wisdom that arguably exceeds anything ever "uttered" by the likes of Benjamin Franklin, Bonnie Franklin or Louis Pasteur. Milk may do a body good, but occasionally it's a commercial, a slogan, a song, or a movie that does a person's intellect some good. I'm so inspired by the words of Garelick Farms that, to show my appreciation for the deep meaning they've brought to my life, I always, always, always buy their milk -- unless there's some other brand on sale for 10 cents cheaper. Their words have had that big of an impact on me.

The first movie that truly taught me a valuable life lesson (other than "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" when I learned to always invite Phoebe Cates to a pool party) was "Razor's Edge" -- perhaps Bill Murray's least remembered film. Returning from war, Murray spent his adult life on a journey toward self-awakening and philosophical enlightenment. His former girlfriend asked Murray's character how it could be that so many bad things had happened in her life, even though she was a good person. She didn't think God was being fair to her. Murray responded: "There are no rewards. At least not here." I've never forgotten that. Those simple words have managed to sum up my faith better than an assortment of priests, nuns, and lay teachers during 12 years of parochial school. Words of wisdom from Bill Murray. "That's a fact Jack!" "Gunga, galunga ... gunga, galunga ..."

Now, as Tiger Woods prepares his assault on the third leg of a four-legged beast known as the Grand Slam, I'm reminded of a passionate, and beautifully written scene from "Vision Quest." In the movie, Elmo the cook (J.C. Quinn) tells Louden (Matthew Modine) why he's putting on a tie to come see his championship wrestling match against the almighty Shute. Elmo recounts a night he sat alone in his apartment and happened upon some soccer game. It was otherwise insignificant in his life, but while he was watching, Pele scored on a bicycle kick and the crowd went wild. Elmo was so awed by what he saw, he started to cry.

	The beauty and magic of Pele can be spiritual.

He told Louden that witnessing a moment like that, one with so much beauty and magic, one that brought so much happiness to so many proved to him the existence of God. It was that big a deal! It made him feel special to be part of a world that could produce such splendor. He was telling Louden that greatness can happen at anytime. And he was telling Louden that greatness could happen tonight during the three, two minute periods he'd be rolling around on the mat with Shute. Elmo admitted that the life of a lonely cook doesn't offer much more than the opportunity to live vicariously through the greatness of others. He says: "It ain't the six minutes. It's what happens in those six minutes."

To me, it is among the most fervent speeches about sports I've ever heard, and it offers the best justification for all of us who spend so much of our lives buried in sports pages, and engrossed in sporting events. We're not wasting our lives on frivolous entertainment. Our priorities aren't out of whack! We are bearing witness to the beauty, the grace, and the greatness of mankind. Little did we know that it was also part of God's divine plan that this privilege would require basic cable and/or $65 a ticket, but that's the price we pay for our role as subjective observers.

I had a moment like Elmo's about 10 years ago. I can't remember all the details, but I was up late watching a West Coast baseball game. The Giants against somebody. And as I was dozing in and out of consciousness, I woke up to see Barry Bonds hit a game-winning homer. The game meant nothing to me. I had no rooting interest. I was completely dispassionate, yet I got chills. I know what Elmo was talking about. I was blessed with a moment that I still carry with me to this day. The details are gone. But the feeling lasts forever. I liken it to the moment you realize you're in love. You may not remember what the other person was wearing, or what movie you saw that night, but every so often, you get a rush of adrenaline as that feeling washes over you -- all over again. Sports. Love. Same thing. Which is why watching a college basketball game is a perfect way to tell someone you love them -- and you'll be there in a minute.

And so, even though I'm not what you'd call a Tiger fan, I will be this weekend, and the week of the PGA Championship. To me, Tiger is overexposed, overly image conscious, and underwhelmingly charismatic. His personality is bland, and he tends to ruin the competitive balance and suck the drama out of too many tournaments. Week after week, I pull for the underdog, yet more often than not it seems, the top dog is a big cat named Tiger.

	Show us what you've got, Tiger.

But now I want Mr. Nike to "just do it!" Amaze us. Show us your greatness. Give us a glimpse of something immortal and awesome. Prove to us that there is a benevolent, supreme being who also enjoys the enchantment of the inward nine on Sunday. Show us perfection is possible by getting closer to attaining it than anyone else ever has. This is our vision quest. Wham! Slam! Thank you, man!

And don't settle for one Tiger Slam, and one calendar year Grand Slam. Keep 'em coming! They said it couldn't be done. So, do it twice. Do it back to back. Three-peat. Become bigger than the Babe. Leave Michael Jordan in your dust.

Elmo was right. He gave a voice to the feelings of millions. For what brings all of us back for more isn't just our love of certain games -- football, basketball, baseball, golf -- but the opportunity that all games provide. It's the chance, and the hope that we might catch a glimpse of greatness. There's a feeling. It's nearly indiscernible, but it's there, and it's constant. It's the feeling that this just might be the moment. And we'll be damned if we're gonna miss it!

It's not the 72 holes. It's what happens during those 72 holes.

Bob Halloran is an anchorman for ESPNEWS.