I like this Tiger Woods. I like him a lot better than the scripted Tiger Woods who tried to convince a national TV audience that he was sorry for the pain he had caused his family.
This Tiger Woods looks like a mess, as you’d expect a man who has thrown away his home life to be. This Tiger Woods looks human.
That his humanness is coming out through his golf game makes perfect sense. Golf is always how he has communicated best. It’s his native tongue.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m not wishing ill on the man. The sport is better when he is playing to the best of his abilities. But there’s something comforting about the possibility that somewhere inside the entity known as Tiger Woods, a heart beats.
Golf-wise, what happened to Woods at the Bridgestone Invitational was rock bottom. He finished tied for 78th place in an 80-player field. He shot 77 in the final round Sunday and didn’t break par in any round. Those are numbers you’d expect from a golfer who drove all night from Poughkeepsie and got into the tournament as second alternate.
Bridgestone served as evidence that some of us had misread Tiger. He is not an automaton. Just because he traded his umbilical cord for a golf club at birth doesn’t mean he can shut out the real world when he steps on a golf course.