Masters of their Domain

Will he or won’t he? Everyone wants to know, but not everyone is asking the same question. Will he win? Will he make the cut? Will he be the golfer he once was? Will he be as dominant? Will he return to his old ways? Will he overhaul Nicklaus’s 18 major titles? Every person walking the emerald fairways this week at Augusta National has one such question on their lips, perhaps even Tiger Woods himself, but frustratingly few people are even bothering to consider the most important question of all – who will win this year’s green jacket. It seems like a banal, facile question to ask, but here’s why it isn’t:

Such is the impact Tiger Woods has had on the game that sadly only one thing is more noticeable than his presence on the course, and that is his absence. When a player’s absence in any sport detracts from the actual playing of that sport, questions have to be asked; even more so when that player’s return to the sport overshadows the grand event in which they are due to make their return. No golfer is bigger than the game itself. But Tiger Woods, in his admission that he felt “entitled” to the various indiscretions in which he became involved, has all but admitted he felt above the very spirit and tradition the game is supposed to instil in its fans and players. The spirit and tradition of golf arguably both apply as much on the course as off it, and Tiger has as much impressed as failed to in both departments.

There is no debating what Tiger Woods has done for the game through ratings, charities, raising of the bar, and challenging history, but surely it would ultimately come down in the end to how a player has conducted themselves as a competitor, a role model, a winner, and as a loser? Tiger can take golf to as many grassroots as he likes, but if the children at those levels are aspiring to be him, then we should feel very sorry for them. His recent activities off the course are abominable enough, but what is almost worse is the willingness of the fans and the media in the last few weeks to simply roll over and take him back. Elin Woods is not the only one who has been lied to and left broken-hearted – so has everyone who loves golf. Why do we so easily forget Tiger’s antipathy towards Ryder Cup golf, perhaps the greatest event in the game? Why has nothing more been made of the driver he released in anger in Melbourne in 2009, which bounced about four rows back into a tightly-packed crowd and cracked someone on the head? Why do we look the other way when he swears, spits, and roars in frustration on every other hole? When he slings a club at his bag in disgust? Why do we shrug and simply nod our heads at him when he arrogantly stares down a crowd of journalists at a press conference and answers questions in the most aloof fashion imaginable? Are we that much in awe of the man? He is not the man we once thought he was. Shouldn’t we now start treating him as a golfer, not a god?

Tiger, in his new efforts to be “less hot” on the course, has admitted that his negative and positive outbursts will be kept in check. He has admitted that he has done a lot of soul searching and inward analysis, and that he didn’t like what he saw. But what he was before, which was evidently an arrogant, detached, self-important, over confident and at times obnoxious brat, is precisely what made him into the barely beatable mega-golfer he was. Put yourself in his shoes; if you had found a lethal recipe that enabled you to concoct the most audacious performances on and off the course, would you really, truly, try to throw all that away just because you got caught out? I’d bet my dust-covered golf clubs that you wouldn’t. What you would do, and what I will go out on a limb and suggest Tiger is about to conjure up, is figure out a different way to apply that recipe and return to those heady days you remember so well. How else does he intend to return to the top of the game, and arguably be the best sportsman, let alone golfer, in the world? If he genuinely is changing his ways and is approaching life as a different person, then I am afraid he is saying goodbye to the killer instinct. Nice guys finish last, after all.

So, I’ll ask again; who will win this year’s green jacket? Simple. The person, come Sunday afternoon, who deserves to. And it ain’t Tiger Woods. He knows it, we know it. There are many stories out there this weekend in Georgia; Steve Stricker, the comeback kid. Ernie Els, the resurgent Big Easy. Phil Mickelson, the humble, talented southpaw. Padraig Harrington, the hard working Irishman with the voice of a jockey. What about the Molinari brothers? Kenny Perry? Camilo Villegas? The 16-year-old Matteo Manassero? McIlroy, Poulter, Ishikawa? We need to move on from Tiger. I suspect he has some wins left in him, but his day has come and gone. We are entering the very early stages of the post-Tiger era. However, he has proved me wrong time and time again, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he does again. After all, Jack Nicklaus donned his last green jacket at the ripe old age of 46 in the mid-eighties. He was then, and still is, happily married.