UPDATE: Tiger Woods stunned and enraptured the sportsworld with his showing in last week’s Valspar Championship in Florida where he finished a close second place, his highest finish in nearly five years. NBC Sports says they had more TV viewers for the final round than any non-major tournament since then. The resurgent golfer attracted more TV viewers last week than all the majors in 2017 except The Masters. His comeback, if he continues to play at this level, could well be the sports story of the year.
Last week the odds were 10/1 that Tiger will win the Masters Tournament at Augusta National in April, the first of the four majors this year. His monetary value is beyond comprehension. He attracts viewers as nobody else. People want to see him win. It’s as though their dreams are riding on Tiger.
Tickets for a single-day pass to the Masters Tournament in April are going for $3,000 because Tiger is in the hunt. He's back. They say. Las Vegas says the odds of him winning this year's Masters are 16/1 following his performance at last week's Honda Classic in Palm Beach, FL. Fans are tingling and money is jingling. The Tiger Machine at work. Tiger made the cut and finished even par for the four-day tournament. His drives led the field in length. Still, there is a stable of young, talented stallions including 22-year-old Justin Thomas itching to win and doing it. Should they fear the Tiger, they are not showing it. Money says maybe they should. Fans want to see him come back, especially if they're willing to pay $3,000 to watch him play in person. But then, he is Tiger, once the most dominant and well known athlete in the world.  |
| Tiger finds his ball outside the ropes. |
It is a homecoming party and everyone is invited. Old and young, male and female. Husbands and wives. Parents and children. Sports fans and celebrity seekers. Some are wealthy who will find comfort inside their private clubhouse with balcony views, martinis and big screens, but most are just plain everyday folks like you and I, who will scatter across the grasses and through the wooded canyon looking for places they might post up and get a glimpse. They come from all corners of Los Angeles: the Valley, the Eastside, South Bay, the Westside and Watts. Above all, they come with one thing in mind: to see the mighty Tiger.
What is this thing called Tiger? What is it that he has that makes him so special? That would draw so much attention and awe and support. Yes, support. And encouragement. Nary a spectator present would utter a discouraging word lest he be called a traitor, or banished with boos and hisses, smothered by the throngs of well wishers who are here to see him succeed and show the world that he can still perform at the most elite level: top of the heap. He was there once. Oh, but was he! He dominated the game for nearly a decade. He can do it again. And he's got... what is it exactly? The man possesses star power that you don't find in ordinary men.
"Go Tiger," the call from the crowd.
"We love you, Tiger!"
"You're the greatest!"
"Sure, he's had some personal problems but that's over."
"He's back."
Where is he? Did you see him? He's on the practice green. People swarm, necks strain. Tiger is here.
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| Tiger on the practice green |
He's dressed in light green and beige, wearing white shoes and a white cap. His concentration is such that he appears not to notice or be aware of the commotion that follows him. But he knows. We know he knows. He looks fit and athletic, a healthy specimen at age 42. His skin is dark but not black. His lips are full and protrude, upper and lower, like a budding flower. His eyes belie his African American blood. They are neatly curved and horizontal, surely inherited from his Asian mother. He's concentrating on his putts as though in deep meditation.
"Yo, Tiger!"
"There he is," a father tells his young son.
We are here at the posh Riviera Country Club in Pacific Palisades, California where the sky is cerulean and clear, golden sunlight dapples green fairways and the temperature hovers at a pleasant 72 degrees. This is Santa Monica Canyon which curves up from the nearby coastline forming an enclosed 243 acres that include 18 beautifully sculpted golf holes. Designed by George C. Thomas, Jr., Riviera opened for play in 1926 during the Golden Age of Sports when boxing, baseball and golf produced kings and ticker tape parades.
"The Riv," as the locals call it, boasts a pedigree that few golf venues can match. The 1948 U.S. Open was held here, the first golf "major" played on the West Coast. Ben Hogan, one of golf deities, won that tournament and The Riv became his favorite playground. There's a statue of Hogan next to the practice green where Tiger is rolling in putts in preparation for the second round of today's version of the L.A. Open, called the Genesis. What is Genesis? An origin a creation, perhaps a "new beginning" for our fallen hero. In truth, it's a luxury sedan produced by Hyundai, another signature of a game gone corporate.
Add Tiger.
Stir in lots of people.
It's a recipe for good marketing.
The general manager of Genesis explains to Forbes magazine that he is very pleased with the Tiger Effect that has ushered in a wide audience to see the new automobile brand. Two Genesis sedans, black and white, shine brightly on display inside the gates.
Tiger played in his first pro tournament right here at The Riv in 1992, which seems like a century ago, when he was a 16-year-old sophomore in high school and an ascending star. A phenom. The glitterati have always frolicked here. Greta Garbo owned a house above the 13th hole where, as legend goes, she could watch Clark Gable and Katherine Hepburn play. This is Tiger Territory. Welcome back, Tiger. We love you. But do they know that Tiger has never, even at the top of his dominating game, won a tournament here?
If they do, this fact in no way discourages his army. His army believes in him. Tiger is not only a golfer. He is bigger than that. He is celebrity. His game has been on hiatus for a few years, following a string of surgeries and personal improprieties that might cloud lesser characters of mere mortal status. Swept up in a whirlwind of fame and ill-fame exacerbated by tabloids and talk show and torrents of media frenzy, Tiger moves on. Tiger is not a has-been. Tiger is making a comeback.
"Come on, Tiger!"
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| Rory McIlroy is distracted while lining up a chip shot. |
He must shoot even par on this Friday to make the cut for the weekend. His threesome includes twenty-somethings, brawny Rory McIlroy from Northern Ireland and newcomer Justin Thomas from Kentucky, both of whom must shake off the surrounding storm that comes with Tiger.
"Quiet, please!" The signs are held up when a player addresses his ball. Still, there is a rustling and bustling that surrounds this group. Many of the gallery are not familiar with golf ettiquette. But they know celebrity. They perform the "cell phone salute," holding up their iPhones in unison to snap photos to show their friends and relatives and everyone else, that they were here. They saw Tiger. Here is proof!
By the 11th hole, Tiger is three over par and making bogeys not birdies. It is becoming clear that he likely will not make the cut. Still he is cheered on. He has the support of his army. Every shot is a photo op and time for an encouraging word.
"Great shot, Tiger!"
The black birds are chirping wildly in the leafless gnarly white-limbed sycamore trees, the only sign that it's winter in L.A. A plaque near the 12th green tells us that the big sycamore guarding that green is called "Bogey's Tree" in honor of the late movie actor Humphrey Bogart. An afternoon breeze is beginning to blow off the ocean sending a minor chill through the canyon. The army continues to swarm.
From the stately Spanish-revival style Clubhouse atop the highest point on the golf course above the 18th green, look to the west down that fairway -- once known as "Hogan's Alley" -- and you will see the blue Pacific Ocean and the outline of Catalina Island. Turn to the east and you will note the rugged ridge of the brownish-purple San Gabriel Mountains, beyond Pasadena. There are few other outdoor places in Los Angeles that you would rather be, tucked away from the throngs. Except, perhaps, on this weekend when all of Los Angeles is invited in. And Tiger is here. Members such as Larry David, Adam Sandler and Tom Brady have vacated the premises. They no doubt can see Tiger anytime, by appointment.
But Tiger is not performing well. His score is bleeding into an ugly figure. It is evident that he will be eliminated for the weekend. Tiger's countenance transforms. For the first time today he smiles and you see his white teeth that contrast perfectly with his dark skin. His meditation has broken. He is chatting casually out in the middle of the fairway with his playing partner Rory McIlroy, far from the madding crowd.
On the 18th and final green, Tiger is greeted by a large audience that fills the grassy hillside amphitheatre overlooking the hole. A loud ovation echoes through the canyon as though an incredible shot has been played. But it's not a shot. It's Tiger. Cell phones are lifted. Spirits are high. Tiger tips his cap. He rolls in a putt for par. He has scored a 76, five over par. Ugh. He will not be here tomorrow. But he will still be beloved.
"He's back," says one enthusiastic fan. "He's in good shape, just needs practice."
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