Only this time it occurred at Torrey Pines, the lifelong playground of the former #1 player in the world, a place where he had perfected the dramatic ending for his 14th and last major win (six long years ago), and lifted the trophy seven other times. Sadly, this "walk-off" ending didn't occur late on a Sunday afternoon 18th green. Instead this one originated on the 13th green of the North Course, proceeded past the clubhouse and eventually terminated at his Porsche into which Tiger couldn't even lift his golf bag.
In what has become an all too familiar sight during the last two Tour seasons, Tiger has three times as many WD's and missed cuts as he does Top 25 finishes. Let that sink in for a moment before reading on. Such results are beyond comprehension for a player once accustomed to making and re-writing history with his brilliance on the course. Now he's a limping, scuffling sideshow on the course; a less churlish, yet intriguing circus act off the course for the folks that write and talk about golf for a living, as well as armchair bloggers like myself.
Perhaps in time, just as Phil said, Eldrick Tont Woods will return to being Tiger, and indeed have the last laugh. But for now, it looks as though this latest Tiger tale of the strange and surreal has resumed Woods' fascinating descent from the lofty perch of the world's greatest-ever golfer.(*) And this latest dizzying drop has propelled Tiger into the depths of what seems to resemble a paralyzing hacker's despair. Every bit of it has been compelling drama, the most tantalizing reality TV to watch, an unpredictable tragic comedy unfolding before us. And I am loving every minute of it!!
(*) Apologies to Mr. Nicklaus whose career achievements and longevity are beginning to look even more remarkable every time Tiger's back tightens, neck stiffens or swing falters.
I know I shouldn't allow myself to indulge in such schadenfreudian delight at Tiger's tumultuous misfortune, but you know what they say about karma right? What comes around usually goes around...then suddenly hits a tree branch, ricochets off some rocks and crashes deep into the woods of darkness and desperation (to paraphrase Gary McCord), eventually leading to a proverbial golfer's WD from grace, if you will. Seems to be par for the course these days for one of the world's greatest, self-serving and spoiled sports-brats.
While there is certainly no love-lost for me with respect to the spectacle that is Tiger (and "fanboy" golf), I do realize there is something quite sad and depressing about Tiger's current state of confusion and current golfing ineptitude. After all, I am first and foremost a golfing fool, who knows the frustrating vagaries of this cruel game all too well, and yet continues to allow himself to suffer at the unrelenting hands of golf's mesmerizing lifelong journey -- bad back, "glute" stretches and all.
Yet, I can't help but take great pleasure in seeing the heretofore surly genius -- admired almost as equally for his ability to wag the golf media dog as his ability to wield mystical golfing magic -- now serving up a delicious stew of "swing release patterns", "glute (in)activation", and even Tin Cup-pian hosel-rocket chili peppers (beware Lee Janzen) as hot, spicy seasoning, all of which the scribes and TV pundits will gobble up readily, and all too greedily.
I mean, talk about getting your glute-tonous "maximus" bang for your speculation -- and humor activation -- buck!! And this time, it's not just Brandel and Johnny doing their level best to skewer and roast Tiger for his constant swing tinkering on the nightly and weekend golf speculation rotisserie spit. The "Hot Now" sign at the "Hot Takery Bakery" is now flashing like Tiger's toothy, Cheshire grin used to in the press tent after each of his 79 Tour wins.
Alas, is Tiger just playing the media again and bending them to his every whim, only to wind up as the Big Cat who swallowed the canary once again? Au contraire mes amis! While something akin to manipulation may have been quite plausible pre-back surgery, things are much, much different now. No longer afforded the benefit of the doubt by any sage media member, Tiger and his PR minions have seemingly lost control of the upper hand. Not to mention Tiger has been drifting for awhile now and has recently run aground of those jagged, rocky realities known as age and burn-out. Yes, burn-out.
Tiger has been IS a control freak -- or was the object of Sergeant Earl's controlling influence -- most all of his life and, prior to the 2009 PGA Championship at Hazeltine, had suffered very little resistance along his breathtaking collision course with destiny. Eventually, all control freaks reach a breaking point and the Tiger we saw at Torrey Pines looked like someone who had long surpassed his, fire hydrant or otherwise. On the telecast, he appeared to me as a gimpy and defeated soul, resigned to the fact that he can no longer simply will himself to overcome when the golf ball doesn't bounce his way.
Not only has the late-30's Tiger lost his ability to overcome physical obstacles and challenges, he has long since lost his firm grip of complete control: he can no longer steer the message to fit his egotistical superiority complex that was borne of being the best golfer on the planet. In fact, now he's rarely the best golfer under the starter's tent in his Thursday morning group.
And to make matters worse, he's once again the "butt" of the golfing joke du jour. Add it to all the others and now there are almost as many Tiger jokes as holes on a golf course (insert perverted sex-addiction joke here). And the laughing can be heard everywhere: from the tee box "glute" crack with your buds, to the grill room "skank" shot issued from the bar stool, to the gallery suppressed chuckles at the sight of another bladed chip, to the TV production truck and then out of Nick Faldo's (a golfing control freak if there ever was one) mouth in the form of bio-kinetic musings about the human "sacrum!" I wish I was so creative, but sadly, even my perverse mind couldn't have made that one up.
Somehow and at some point, after the healing is done, and the abs and glutes have been fully re-engaged and activated, Tiger will need to look himself over in the mirror and make certain he is ready to fully commit to writing the final verse of this master-stroke symphony. And there is time for him to change the tenor of how it is sung, for it would be a damn shame to let his bad back, swing-change obsessions or Rachel Uchitel's tabloid expose inject long-lasting dissonance. Oh what a beautiful noise!! ;)
But when that time arrives, Tiger must realize it is time to "sac-rum up", stop over-analyzing, strap on the red Sunday cape and tenaciously stare down adversity in all of its "yippy" and uncertain mystery in order to salvage one last run at Jack's Legend. Because the longer he keeps messing around with technique and form, the less likely it is he will ever regain his position of greatest perceived substance: as THE unquestioned best ever, an intrepid golfing intimidator who thwarts all comers at any cost, even to the detriment of his own image.
Or is this latest twist peeling away another layer of invincibility, thus revealing more evidence to the emergence of a new and vulnerable Tiger, one who is still capable of winning, but not one of epic dominance? Is this the new kinder and gentler Tiger? The one who has gained perspective and can now give in and go with the flow without having to control every little thing? Perhaps Tiger is now more accepting (and even content with) of the idea he only needs to be a hero to his children and a loving, supportive boyfriend who is simply thankful for every day he gets to play golf for a living?
Or is this latest twist peeling away another layer of invincibility, thus revealing more evidence to the emergence of a new and vulnerable Tiger, one who is still capable of winning, but not one of epic dominance? Is this the new kinder and gentler Tiger? The one who has gained perspective and can now give in and go with the flow without having to control every little thing? Perhaps Tiger is now more accepting (and even content with) of the idea he only needs to be a hero to his children and a loving, supportive boyfriend who is simply thankful for every day he gets to play golf for a living?
The greatest thing about golf is the story you don't expect or can't predict. And Tiger will still continue to deliver in that regard for the foreseeable future. Just not between the ropes nearly as much as most would hope.
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