If ever a man's expression announced "I'll score a goal now or die in the attempt" Westwood's did as he drilled his way clean through Wales and Ireland.
What does he make of drill music - the menacing strain of hip-hop that's either the cause or the product of inner-city crime, depending on your point of view?
But the fact is that, to many people, it looks like he supports drilling, and in so doing, he is helping to legitimize drilling.
Part of his success, he says, is due to the empathy that exists between him and his animals: he doesn't drill them, he "listens to them" and gives each animal plenty of his time.
(Of his Stage 4 colon and liver cancer: "Cured!") But he does not drill deeply, spending only a few paragraphs on the death of his brother from complications of drug and alcohol abuse, and that of his father, who died while Mr. Cain was at a business reception.
If he doesn't drill, BP and Chevron might get some Sourdough oil without paying federal royalties.
Well, I didn't drill wells.
It did not drill, nor did it dig very deep.
Gambardella didn't drill the holes.
Mike Stanton, who relieved Roger Clemens to start the seventh inning, could not throw strikes and, when he finally did, Ricky Ledee drilled a three-run homer in the next inning against his former team.
"Easy" isn't the first word I'd use to describe what he did (power drill on the PCB?) but he didn't seem to think it was hard.
