I miss our young, innocent Tiger Woods.
I miss Tiger Woods. Our Tiger Woods. Orlando’s Tiger Woods. Before the messy divorce and the porn queens and the Perkins waitresses.
Before the multiple back surgeries.
Before he was found asleep at the wheel on the side of the road the other night.
When I moved here in 2000, my daughters were young, my marriage was happy and Tiger was fast becoming the most famous and beloved athlete on the planet.
My wife had a huge crush on Tiger and would sometimes joke she was going to leave me for him. And we’d often drive down Conroy Windermere Road by the gilded gates of Isleworth and my daughters would gleefully shriek, “That’s where Tiger lives! That’s where Tiger lives! Daddy, can we go see Tiger? Can we? Can we?”
Many of us Orlandoans took great pride in living in the same city as Tiger — the young, dashing, fist-pumping, heart-thumping Cablinasian who made it exciting, fun and cool to watch the sport of old, stodgy white guys.
Orlando is a transient city filled with people from all over the world and Tiger personified who we were and still are — a melting pot of races, religions and cultures that came from somewhere else and now call Orlando home.
Those were good times and Tiger seemed like a great guy. He was wholesome and hard-working — a shining example for both kids and adults alike. He was the type of man you wanted your son to be and your daughter to marry.
We embraced him and adored him. We cheered for him when he played in The Arnie; we cheered for him when he showed up at Magic games; we cheered for him when we saw him shopping at the nearby Albertsons.
“Tiger's a role model to the entire world,” thenmayor Glenda Hood said. “We are so proud he calls Orlando home.”
That was back in the day when I was trying to get Hood and city leaders to throw a parade for Woods after he completed the legendary Tiger Slam — that magical time in which he simultaneously held all four of golf ’s major championships.
“You want a parade for Tiger?” Hood said when the subject was broached. “I can get that done. We would like nothing better than to honor Tiger, our hometown hero.” Our hometown hero. I miss that Tiger Woods. I miss Orlando’s Tiger Woods.
As Orlando sports fans, those were the best years of our lives. Tiger Woods was young and dominant. Dwight Howard was young and dynamic. And both of them exuded goodness, purity, morality. Tiger’s father Earl said his son “will do more than any other man in history to change the course of humanity.” Dwight himself said before he was drafted by the Magic, “I want to raise the name of God within the league and throughout the world.”
Those statements seem absurd now but back then they seemed authentic and believable. If only we didn’t know now what we didn’t know then.
For Tiger, those were the best years of his life as well. He won all 14 of his majors while he lived in Orlando. He married his beautiful wife Elin while he lived here. Both of his children were born here at the Winnie Palmer Hospital for Women and Babies.
Wow, that seems like a lifetime ago now, doesn’t it?
When you look at that DUI mugshot of Tiger now, he doesn’t look like Tiger anymore. He looks like Uncle Eldrick. Getting old. Going bald. Eyes baggy and foggy. Beard scraggly and graying.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but Tiger’s mugshot is worth only three: “Fall from grace.” His image is ruined. His star has fallen. His talent is gone.
And, too, there is a pang of personal nostalgia when you look into Tiger’s sad eyes in that maudlin mugshot.
My wife is now my exwife and she no longer has a crush on Tiger. My younger daughter graduated from high school last week and is headed off to college.
But, sometimes, when I’m driving alone by Isleworth, I can still hear her gleeful shrieks.
“That’s where Tiger lives! That’s where Tiger lives! Daddy, can we go see Tiger? Can we? Can we?”
No, honey, Tiger doesn’t live here anymore. Our Tiger is gone. Orlando’s Tiger left us long ago. We miss him desperately. And, from the forlorn, faraway look in his eyes, he misses us even more.