Tiger resurrection puts his army of fans on the march

AFTER the loudspeaker announcements signalled the end of the weather delay early on Friday evening, battalions of fans streamed back on to the course and marched along the manicured walkways of Augusta National in a long column. They headed to the grandstands grouped around the 15th green, desperate to witness the most stirring episode yet in the return of their hero.

They gathered there under the brooding sky as the rain fell in sheets and waited patiently as Tommy Fleetwood, Xander Schauffele and Gary Woodland appeared over the crest of the hill on the fairway and played their approach shots.

There was not long to wait now. Tiger Woods was in the next group.

Fleetwood and his playing companions were on the green circling their putts when it happened. Out of the hush came a huge roar from the stands that startled those who had not seen its source: on the leaderboard behind the green, between the names of ‘Harding’ and ‘Johnson D’, a new nameplate had been inserted. It was ‘Woods’. He was on the charge.

The crowds at the 15th did not know it then but the circus around Woods had moved into full swing at the 14th when a security guard had rushed over to shepherd spectators away from the 14-time Major winner, slipped on the damp grass and clipped Woods’ ankle as he fell.

Woods hopped away in pain but avoided injury. The galleries, and the security guard, breathed a sigh of relief. Woods birdied the hole.

After Fleetwood and his partners had left the 15th green, Woods strode over the hill and down the left hand side of the fairway through the trees to where his ball lay.

He pitched it high into the air and it fell in a graceful arc about 20 feet from the pin and came to rest. Woods knew that if he made the putt, it would bring him to within one shot of the 36-hole lead.

The fans knew what they were watching here: they were witnesses to one of the greatest comebacks not just in golf but in all of sport. One of the greatest sportsmen in the world was back. He was really back.

There was a time when a form of redemption was the most anyone could hope for after his fall from grace a decade ago and his subsequent injury woes. But this was more than redemption. This was a resurrection.

It is only two years ago that Woods could barely walk because of back pain, let alone fashion a challenge to win his first Major since he won the US Open in 2008. Even when he had spinal

fusion surgery in the spring of 2017, most thought there was no way back.

His career was over: most observers seemed certain of that. Many commentators said openly they wished he would retire. They said his struggles to play on were harming his legacy. Nobody wanted to remember him this way. They wanted to remember the glory years instead, the years when he was the most dominant athlete in the world.

It is less than two years ago, too, that Woods, 43, was found slumped asleep at the wheel of his Mercedes on a road near his home in Jupiter, Florida.

He had been knocked out by the cocktail of drugs he was taking to try to manage his back pain. He was so disoriented that he told police officers he had been playing golf in California. It felt as if we were watching a tragedy unfold. And yet now, as he acknowledged the roars of the crowds of patrons straining to get a view of him from all around the 15th, he was two shots off the lead in the game’s most prestigious tournament. He waited for his playing partners, Jon Rahm and Haotong Li, to scramble their balls on to the green and then lined up his putt. He hit it to the right of the lip and watched it curve slowly back into line with the hole. Then he watched it drop. The galleries stationed there amid the pine trees and the lakes, erupted in joy and exultation. Woods punched the air. He moved to six under par, one shot off the lead. Rory McIlroy was in the next group, the final group of the day, but that did not matter to the fans. They were only here for one man. In the old days, they talked about Arnie’s Army, the loyal legions who followed Arnold Palmer around from hole to hole. Now golf has Tiger’s Army. He is, by some considerable distance, the biggest draw in town.

By the time McIlroy got to the green, the stands had emptied. The only sound now was the squelch of thousands of footsteps on the sodden turf by the side of the 17th fairway as the patrons prepared to follow Woods all the way back to the clubhouse atop the hill.

It must have been a sobering moment for McIlroy. There was a time when he was regarded as the heir to Woods and that time may yet come to pass but he has seemed like a forgotten man this weekend.

He is the ghost at Tiger’s feast. Once, it seemed Woods had ceded him the stage but now McIlroy, like the rest of us, is part of Tiger’s audience again.

The homage to Woods continued when he began his third round yesterday afternoon.

Jon Rahm was standing on the first tee, preparing to begin his round, when Woods emerged from the clubhouse and made his way to the putting green. A murmur of excitement quickly grew into shouts of encouragement and roars of support. Rahm had to back away from his tee shot.

The crowd seemed to recognise their discourtesy. They acknowledged they had got carried away and suddenly cheered Rahm, who smiled at the melodrama of it all.

But it was still all about Woods. When he walked on to the tee, his stern game-face on, one man in the crowd could barely contain his certainty. ‘Oh, he’s winning,’ he said to his friend.

Woods managed a brief smile when he chatted to his playing partner, Ian Poulter, on the tee. Maybe they were discussing old boasts or half-forgotten insults. Both men struck their tee-shots down the centre of the fairway and as they walked away, Tiger’s Army, Augusta’s mass of humanity, set off in pursuit.

It was like watching a royal procession. Whatever the result here, Woods is the king of golf again.