Can St. Andrews Failure
Fuel Tiger Turnaround?
By STEVE SUSI
One Great Season
Even if you didn't watch ESPN's broadcast of The Open Championship from Thursday sunrise through Sunday sunset as I did, by now you're aware the No. 1-ranked golfer in the world finished nowhere near the top of that weird yellow Scottish leaderboard.
Sure, Tiger's still ranked No. 1, but after the 18th hole he made a beeline for the St. Andrews exit with 23rd-place winnings worth $21,275 more than the average U.S. annual household income. A moment with ESPN and then — he gone.
Of course, Eldrick needn't play for money; he has that stuff in spades (though after a reportedly record-breaking divorce settlement, every million counts).
No, we golf fans have known for some time that Tiger Woods plays for major championships first and foremost, which at his rarified level of accomplishment will amount to far, far more than mere pounds sterling. The stepping-stones to golf history are what he's after. Everyone knows it, including — here's a novel concept — the field.
To wit, Sunday marked Woods' worst 72-hole total since tying for 24th at the 2004 PGA Championship. This result on a course he knows well, and from which he's made off with a pair of Claret Jugs in the past (2000 and 2005) has dizzied loyal fans and casual viewers alike. Has all of his dumb off-course crap really affected his heretofore impregnable, Green Beret focus 'n stuff?
For argument's sake, let's say it's July 20, 2009, and I tell you that Tiger Woods is a dozen strokes back as he tees off on Sunday morning at St. Andrews. "Certainly," you bellow while wearing that 'beyond petroleum' polo you got at some corporate outing, "Tiger’s gotta be sick or something. He owns that place. It's the birthplace of golf for cheese's sake. You'd have to drive into a neighbor's tree on sedatives to come up with such tripe. Dude, did you see those Kate Gosselin bikini pics I sent you?"
And that wouldn't have been only you, by the way — it would've been me too (sans the BP polo; I golf shirtless). A Tiger supporter for years, I have long enjoyed watching pros — who could beat me by 20 strokes wearing a blindfold moments after open-heart surgery — shudder in his path as he showed the world who was boss with a shirt soaked in Sunday blood. For reasons unknown, my fanaticism was doubled during Ryder/Presidents Cups when, oddly, he seemed to fail way more often than usual. Maybe it was the absence of all those coveted FedEx Cup points messing with his concentration.
So let's outline a few of Sunday's abnormalities:
What? Does this sound like the modus operandi of the greatest, most confident golfer of our generation? Of course not. Something's amiss. Altered, broken, or debunked, whatever it might be, this confluence of Tiger trophies has become a vacuum at the very moment that iron-gutted kids like McIlroy, Jeong, Na, Fowler, Manassero and a dozen others show up and play like they never got around to watching the PGA broadcasts their parents DVRd for them to watch after school. They simply can't be bothered with all the head games. Not with PSP games around anyway.
For time immemorial we've heard and repeated tales of the local bully who, once punched in the nose, never regains the intimidation factor that gave him dominance in the first place. Hmmm:
Of course the Rich Beems, Ben Curtises, and Shaun Micheels of the world always eke one major out every few years. (And I hope they continue to do so.) That's what makes golf special — four magic days in a row can engrave your name forever alongside the likes of Hogan, Sarazen, Jones, Snead, Nicklaus, Palmer and Woods.
But has the Red Force gone out the window on PGA Sundays? Few doubt that Tiger will win more majors, but after eight months of ridicule, mayhem and sex therapy — multiplied by tabloids the world over, divorce payouts, firing Butch Harmon, spending a season without even a third-place finish in a major, and giving the second-worst apology TV special in history — how in the world will the most talented and hardest-working golfer on earth come back?
He is, after all, Tiger Woods.
If he pulls it off and wins four more majors to tie Jack at 18, I’ll bet he tells the world someday that Sunday, July 18, 2010, made a huge difference in that gilded achievement; that the final round of The Open Championship at St. Andrews, where he, a guy with a thousand times more money, fame, talent, and experience, was beaten soundly (as South African billionaire and golf fan Johann Rupert put it) by a kid who grew up "dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt poor."
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