he is in a bad , bad mood , but he seems to be fighting not to take it out on anyone , and therefore , he says nothing , absolutely nothing at all . three hours to the west , frank stood on the putting green at the thirteenth hole , drinking his beer as roger lined up for a putt . god , i wanted her , but i was n't good for her . and you got nothing in return . '' 'why does he want it this way ? ' we were sitting around my place . 