Playing Through

Illustration by Doug Potter

A couple of years ago, I saw Tiger Woods hit a shot that even I would have been embarrassed by. It was the 16th hole of his second round of the 2006 U.S. Open, played at Winged Foot Golf Club, in the posh village of Mamaroneck, outside New York City. Tiger had his ball in the fairway, with maybe an 8-iron to the green. No water to worry about. No wind. Just the usual oil-slick greens – for Woods, a birdie opportunity that would have kept him alive into the weekend.

But he didn't just miss the green. He yanked the ball hard right, into the bunker of another hole. On another course! Yet what really amazed me was Woods' reaction. Other than a sigh, there wasn't one. Emotionally, he looked spent. And I remember thinking it may be a long, long time before we hear much from Tiger Woods again.

I wasn't writing him off. I still believed he was easily the best golfer in the history of the game. The fiercest competitor, the toughest under pressure. I had no doubt he'd annihilate Sam Snead's record of 82 PGA victories and breeze by Jack Nicklaus' 18 majors. But suddenly I was thinking it just might be a while.

And for good reason. Woods' father had died six weeks earlier. As everyone knows, they had been close. Because his dad had been a Green Beret, everyone thinks the guy was some hardass. Actually, he was just the opposite, a softy. And a bit of a coot, too, prone to saying crazy-ass shit about his son – i.e., "Tiger will do more than any other man in history to change the course of history."

Nobody ever talks about this, but Woods had distanced himself from his dad. There was clearly a lot of love there but perhaps some guilt, as well. Failing to make his first cut in 10 years seemed to portend a long and difficult emotional regrouping.

Needless to say, I could not have been more wrong. That single horrendous shot seemed to get all the mixed-up feelings out of his system. A month later, Woods won the British Open. A month after that, the PGA Championship. Last year, after coming in second at the Masters and the U.S. Open, he again won the PGA, his 13th major. Until coming in third a few weeks ago in Miami, he had a streak of seven straight worldwide victories. Ever since I dialed down my Woods expectations, he has only raised them, playing arguably the best golf of his brilliant career going into this week's Masters. CBS commentator Nick Faldo has taken to calling Woods' abilities "paranormal."

I'm probably not saying anything you don't already know, but I feel like saying it, anyway. This is a once-in-a-lifetime genius. You weren't around when Bach was performing his concertos, when Shakespeare was staging his plays. You never saw Babe Ruth hit a baseball or heard Enrico Caruso sing an aria. But you can watch Tiger Woods play golf.

You can and you should.