Sports

Tiger Limps into our Hearts
By Tony Serri

I have never been a Tiger Woods fan. Last week's U.S Open win ran his major title count to 14 making his passing of Jack Nicklaus' record academic at this point. But there was always something about him that got under my skin.

I never cared for this fist pump / bicep flex move. Too much "Hulkamania" for a sport as genteel as golf.

I never cared for his obscenity bombs or driver slams when things didn't go his way. I didn't much care when he christened the "Tiger Slam" in 2000 then tried to push it as a true grand slam.

I'm a traditionalist and Tiger Woods was breaking molds in a game that thrives on molds. Golf, like baseball, is a game less interesting in its execution than in its history. I grew up hearing and reading about Nicklaus, Palmer, Hogan and Player. Gentleman champions all with respect for the traditions and history of the game. While Tiger may have been aware of golf's history, he made it clear from the beginning that his interest in history was in re-making it, not revering it.

He was a new breed - perfect from the start. Where were the lovable foibles like Trevino's swing, Arnie's smoking habit, or Nicklaus's doughboy physique? Sure he had Hogan's icy cool and competitiveness. The trouble was he had no competition. Tiger was to the competition what global warming is to polar ice caps. He pours heat and light on it until it shrinks or disappears completely. I wanted golf's next great champ to be modest, vulnerable and to triumph over adversity. Instead, Tiger was the Terminator. Inexorable and merciless. He was supposed to usher in the new Golden Age, not the Rise of the Machines.

I waited for Phil Mickelson to rise up and challenge him but waiting for Phil Mickelson to blossom is akin to the feeling '70s Democrats had waiting for Teddy Kennedy to become his brothers. At some point you realize it ain't happening. Every once in a while someone named Retief or Angel would steal an occasional major. But if you managed to kiss a Major trophy during his reign you had best slip in a little tongue while you were there. Because Tiger was going to get that trophy back.

As a Nicklaus admirer, I knew by last year that the game was up and that Tiger was going to pass him. So I stopped watching. It was Tiger's world and I was okay with that. Then, with a 19 hole playoff win, a stress fracture and a torn ACL, Tiger won his 14th major and accomplished what to me was his most impossible victory: he actually had me liking him.

I didn't know if I felt sorry for a person in pain or if I felt sorry for a person who felt compelled to disable himself in order to win one more major. Some people estimate Tiger is worth about 500 million dollars. First prize for the U.S Open is approximately 1.5 million dollars. Would you walk yourself into a cast and a possible knee replacement just to win something you had already won 13 times before if you already had that kind of money?

Was it the thrill of competition at its highest level? None of us have experienced that but world-class athletes swear by the opiate of competition. Maybe there is something driving or haunting Tiger to keep striving to the point of self-mutilation. The pressure he puts on himself may be unbearable. Or he could be having the time of his life.

Where I had once thought him an automaton, a product of a drill-sergeant Father who honed his savant skills into a ruthless champion, now I see the layers of complexity. I now see the genius of the man. I may have been the last holdout in terms of universal admiration for him, but I'll be watching when he comes back.

And God help Mickelson and the rest. When they face the reconstructed Tiger none of them may have a leg to stand on.