Now No. 181, Tiger’s lost in the Woods
His game is a mess, but still he remains a fascinating figure
WASHINGTON — For several years, many have said: Can we please stop obsessing over Tiger Woods, giving him the attention that other players, now in their prime, deserve?
But if you aren’t watching Woods now, then you would probably, out of good taste, also turn away from live footage of a large meteor crashing into the earth.
Right now, he’s the most morbidly fascinating oneman car wreck in American sports in at least a half-century. When have so many people, such as me, felt so sorry for a former best athlete in the world, while others almost gloat at his plight?
From one week to the next, you don’t know whether Woods will walk off the course with another injury, show up in public with a mysterious missing front tooth, shoot an 85 (last Saturday), break up for unstated reasons with Olympic star Lindsay Vonn after three years or show up (for a blink) on the top 10 leaderboard at the Masters two months ago. He’ll arrive at the U.S. Open next week ranked 181st in the world.
And through it all, Woods acts as if nothing terribly unusual is happening. He’s a man going over Niagara Falls in a barrel yelling: No problem. Just a few swing tweaks. I’ll be better than ever. See you at the bottom!
This week, promoting his invitational tournament, the Quicken Loans National in Virginia in late July, Woods said, “I’ve had times like this in my life where I’ve gone through these periods. I’m committed to the (swing) changes. Once I start to snowball, that’s when things will start coming together.”
Woods thinks he needs reps toh one new muscle memories with his fourth swing coach. What he needs is muscle amnesia. His old patterns take control as soon as crisis arrives. Too bad that knack of selective forgetfulness doesn’t exist.
Once, there was no shot Tiger could not hit, including many that had never been imagined. Now he hits shots so bad they exceed even amateurs at our worst.
In team sports, there’s a limit to embarrassment. No Michael Jordan or Larry Bird ever shot one for 25 with 20 turnovers. No Cal Ripken hits .050 with two errors a game. You get benched, traded or released. Even in boxing a Mike Tyson reaches a point where he can’t get a serious fight. But in golf, mortification can be infinite.
Will Woods set that record, too? As he plays through injuries, or takes risky shots that invite it, or returns to competition prematurely, or switches swings coaches again and rips his game apart, is he punishing himself?
Woods doesn’t need to quit golf just because he stinks right now. But he’d be wise to stop trying to con us about how bad his game is.
Woods’s reputation, once the most exalted in sports, did not suffer its greatest damage from what he described as a sex addiction. Millions of people resented him more because he made a billion advertising bucks by selling them a lie about his personality. They were willing to forgive, forget or maybe just accept — but balked at being sold a fake. In a different way, Woods is at it again.
At his peak, Woods epitomized the rare human who went beyond what we thought the species was capable of accomplishing.
Today, he’s filthy rich, yet in the alternative measures of happiness that most of us must choose, he’s perilously close to poor. He’s lost a wife, who primarily raises their two children and, now, a serious love interest. His reputation as a paragon is gone permanently and, with his on-course swearing and off-course iciness, it’s even hard to sell him as a good example.
Now, even his defining gift is crumbling, except for those rare rounds — just twice this year — when he has found a way to break 70. Yet he maintains the Tiger facade.
Is he doing it for money? His $61 million US in ’14 (down from $121 million US in ’09) is mostly endorsements that might disappear if he admitted the true state of his game.
Is he keeping up the front because his charity work, like the Tiger Woods Foundation, is tied to his credibility as a player?
Is it because, in golf, there are so many examples why you shouldn’t quit? Lee Trevino was hit by lightning, faded for a decade, then won the PGA at 44.
Is it because he is so egocentric and delusional that he swallows his own happy talk? Is he going from athletic champion to celebrity freak like Tyson?
Or is he a damaged guy with one gift who can’t really do anything else?
We’re probably not allowed to say: all of the above. It’s too easy. Composite people don’t exist. There really is an Eldrick Woods, deep inside, even if he’s erected a 1,000-foot security fence around his personality.
So, don’t say: Please stop paying attention to Tiger. Next week at the U.S. Open at Chambers Bay? OK, maybe ignore him there. His game is a wreck.
As for the rest, it will be a compelling, but nerve-racking, wait to see his remaining chapters unfold. No great golfer ever has been hurt so much, blown up his game so often and also been scrutinized, and pilloried, so harshly.
How much can one man take? Once, he was breathtaking. Now, Tiger Woods is hold-your-breath.