Go to the mountain
Come back to the city
Where a whole lot of things
Don’t look very pretty
Spiritual hunger and spiritual thirst
But you got to change it
On the inside first
To be satisfied
To be satisfied
Van Morrison “Satisfied”
Well, it is officially over, again. The illustrious golf career of one Eldrick “Tiger” Woods came crashing down over the weekend in or around the Firth of George, just off the coast of Scotland. And after this latest fall from grace, there is no doubt in my mind that he won’t ever be able to compete at the highest level, again.
He shot 14 over par – 79 and 77 – in the first two rounds at Royal Troon (a relatively flat track and one he truly thought he could compete on), missed the cut by a country kilometer, and finished near the bottom of the star-studded field at the 152nd edition of the Open Championship.
Here’s a guy who was simply untouchable in his heyday. As the odds-on favorite to win every time he teed it up, he usually did just that, oftentimes in dominant fashion. He is still the only athlete I know of who managed to sit atop and subsequently fall off of the GOAT throne, twice. He had it all – fame, fortune and a firm grasp on the sweet life, or so it seemed.
I was a caddie on the PGA Tour in the late ‘90s, when he denounced his amateur status and turned professional. He showed up as lanky as a two iron, launching golf balls higher and further than anyone else (besides John Daly) and making miles of putts. He won his first Masters by a record 12 shots, becoming the youngest player to ever do so, and his future as a superstar was cemented.
But beyond all the victories, he single-handedly changed everything anyone knew or thought they knew about the game. From the way players prepared themselves for tournaments (cardio over cocktails), to just how low (under par) they could go, Tiger rewrote the entire script.
Then, there was that fateful Thanksgiving in 2009 when he arrived back home after an innocent evening card game at the country club with the fellas. Unbeknownst to Eldrick, Elin, his smoking-hot, Swedish wife at the time, anxiously awaited his return, madder than a hornet and armed with a golf club. Once he rounded the corner, she buried that six iron deeply in his dome, just below his left eye, changing his grille and game, forever.
The ensuing divorce cost him a smooth billion dollars and ripped his bulletproof aura to shreds. Being the consummate warrior, he battled through his demons and, eventually, began winning tournaments again. This second career path culminated with another green jacket in 2019, his fifth, and things were all good back at the Tiger shack.
Then came the wreck in SOCAL that nearly cost him his right foot, still limits his ability to walk long/hilly distances and effectively ended the career of Tiger 2.0, along with any dreams he had of winning more majors than Jack Nicklaus.
There are times when life provides the sweetest lemons and allows us to make the best-tasting lemonade, ever. And then, one day while kicking back, sipping on some of that freshly brewed, top shelf ade, dreaming your dreams (whatever they may be), someone jumps out from behind the door and nearly beats you to death with your own golf club.
Good grief, the doctor is in.