MARTIN SAMUEL ON TIGER’S TROUBLES
Woods only half a Ryder Cup presence as back surgery makes 36 holes too gruelling MARTIN SAMUEL
STRANGELY, nobody had even asked him whether he could play 36. Not this week anyway. Not after the triumph at the Tour Championship. Everybody had so much invested in Tiger Woods’ mission impossible, everybody was so taken by the mother of all comebacks, that the mechanics of this event, the challenge he faced, this rather large elephant in the room, simply passed them by.
By early afternoon on day one, however, reality had not so much bit, as chomped and chewed on Woods’ fragile physique like a dog with a bone. Back fusion surgery, it transpires, is every bit as complex as it sounds; and 36 holes are every bit as gruelling.
Jim Furyk named his foursome combinations and it leapt out that Team America were going to have to fare without their talisman after lunch. He was not coming out to play a second time, and it will be a shock if today’s strategy is any different. The extent of Woods’ recovery is now obvious, as is his importance to the group. He is still sufficiently challenged by injury to be half a Ryder Cup presence.
One imagines this will have been Woods’ decision, too. Had he wanted to play again, Furyk would have indulged him.
It would not have helped that Woods and the self-styled Captain America, Patrick Reed, had not turned into the sure-fire winning combination many imagined. They had been chasing Francesco Molinari and Tommy Fleetwood for most of the front nine, had reclaimed the advantage at the turn, but quickly surrendered it.
At the time Furyk made his second judgment call on pairings, however, Woods and Reed were only one down. So this wasn’t a reaction to a result.
The fact is, Woods wasn’t playing well and had begun to show signs of physical deterioration. Not outright hurt, not wincing and grimacing, but just a little stiff, like a guy who a year ago was considering never hitting a ball again, before being suddenly reprieved against all odds. It was normal, if considered logically.
When Woods is in the form he was last weekend, it is possible to lose sight of the setbacks he has overcome. We are thinking of him again now as the Tiger of old. ‘Go on, big cat,’ cried a voice in the gallery as Woods marched down the first. But he doesn’t bounce these days. When he rose from his seat at the opening ceremony on Thursday, it was the movement of a man only too aware of his limitations.
Maybe had he won 4&3 he might have felt differently about the afternoon. The fact is, he was nowhere near that form, and there was a reason for that. Tournament winner, straight on to a plane bound for Europe, practice sessions, media sessions, ceremonial commitments, 18 tournaments in 2018: the Ryder Cup is a wonderful occasion, but comes at the end of the season and can feel like a slog.
Woods played exquisite shots around Le Golf National without ever coming alight. He won two holes: the second, a par three, in which his ball was so close to the hole, Europe got to play their second and third shots before he needed to putt; and the ninth when 12 helpers were required to find Molinari’s ball, and Fleetwood’s ambitious putt caught downward momentum and went through the green.
The back nine, however, was a bust. No holes and no birdies for Woods, and dwindling momentum as the Europeans sparkled.
Woods seemed to have sucked a little life from his partner, too. Reed is the most boisterous member of the American team; the one who cups a hand to an ear when his pairing is in the ascent, the one most likely to encourage the choruses of ‘USA, USA.’
NOT yesterday. Game-face Tiger is one serious hombre, the centre of attention, and that is not what Reed needs. He wants the European gallery focused on him for his shtick to work. He doesn’t need to be on his best behaviour around the greatest golfer of modern times.
On the first tee, Europe’s fans were getting into the event with their version of the Icelandic thunderclap. They wanted their team involved. ‘Rory, Rory, start the clap,’ they sang, and Rory McIlroy turned, faced them, put his arms above his head and led the gallery. So did Fleetwood, so did Thomas Bjorn, so did — surprisingly — Furyk, who for a man born in Pennsylvania, educated in Tucson and residing in Florida and Hawaii, showed an impressive knowledge of Iceland’s lasting contribution to Euro 2016.
Then it was Tiger’s turn. ‘Tiger, Tiger, start the clap,’ they chorused. A real Tiger could not have looked any more imperiously at the multitude. He smiled politely and tipped his hat. No, he wasn’t glued to Euro 2016, but it was more than that. Just as Joey doesn’t share food, Tony Blair didn’t do God and Gordon Gecko didn’t do lunch, Tiger Woods doesn’t do no Icelandic thunderclap.
Nor was there much sign of the reborn, breezy, open Tiger once his match had concluded with Europe winning 3&1 — the only American defeat of the morning. He departed without comment, although his last three holes had revealed more than he would have liked.
At the 15th, he played into significant rough, then pulled off his shot to have another think about his approach. At the 16th, he found water. By the 17th — at which point Europe were dormie two, thanks to Fleetwood’s 35-foot birdie on 16 — he missed another green and appeared pained. It may have been his back, it may have been the outcome — Molinari made birdie and the match ended there — who can say? Not Woods.
If he needs to be nursed through the next 48 hours, he will not wish that widely broadcast. He will want this to be seen as an off day. He was supposed to be America’s trump card after all.
Indeed, that was what will have hurt most. By losing the final fourball, Woods and Reed halted America’s momentum. They were the marquee duo, the point in the bag.
Yet as Europe made punishing gains in a whitewash afternoon, it was speculated that witnessing Woods’s vulnerability was the biggest boost the home side could have got. It is hard being Tiger. Any Tiger, really: old or new, but particularly new, if held to the standards of old.