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2002's Good Stories
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2000's Good Stories
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1998's Good Stories

No. 91
January 28 – February 3, 2000

A LIFETIME JOB

By TAD BARTIMUS

Thirty of golf's best players were on the course but the madding crowd wanted to watch just one. Pushing and shoving, elbowing and jostling, thousands of spectators jockeyed to see Tiger Woods shoot his way to a fifth consecutive PGA win.

At 24, Woods is the best golfer in the world. He may also be the most famous athlete, though such things are hard to measure in Tasmania and Lapland. On the second Sunday of the new millennium the No. 1-ranked player wore his heavy burden of expectation with style and dignity, rising to the occasion to win the Mercedes Championships in a playoff marking the third time he's finished first to South African Ernie Els' second.

"He's probably going to be bigger than Elvis when he gets into his 40s," said Els, who's ranked fifth. He wasn't kidding.

When you watch him, Woods appears to embody not just everything great about his sport but about the human race as well. He is smart, polite and fulfilling his maximum potential. He is physically beautiful, his movements fluid and graceful, his smile angelic. He has broken through historic race barriers and set a behavior example for adults as well as children. He earns millions of dollars but still minds his mother and father. When he wishes to get through the crush of adulation he still says "excuse me." He shows up on time, does his job and thanks his hosts. In an era of ill-tempered, spoiled and dysfunctional superstars, Tiger Woods is a blessing.

Watching him step up to the tee, the crowd behaved as though it was in the Church of the Holy Green. After his first WHACK! the slender young man in impeccably cut gabardine slacks and silken sports shirt strode purposely toward the record books and never looked back, his grooming and deportment as elegant as his game. The audience applauded wildly.

For it was an audience, not just a bunch of golf fans in plaid pants. An 82-year-old Japanese-American woman flew in "just to see Tiger." When her older brother cautioned her about too much exertion, she snapped back: "I didn't come here to sit down," and took off after her hero.

Waitresses from the clubhouse sneaked away from their jobs long enough to watch Woods swing his first shot; they weren't missed because everybody inside had rushed outside, too.

Little girls hung onto the chain-link fence surrounding the practice green, their eyes glued to him. When he smiled at them they giggled and clasped their hands over their mouths in delighted embarrassment.

"Son," said the middle-aged man to his boy, "you're watching the greatest golfer in the world." The kid in the backwards baseball cap looked awe-struck.

Glossy matrons in long dresses and chiffon hair bows, retirees, expectant mothers and teenagers on dates puffed up and down the spectator walkway for 18 very long holes of regulation golf. Then they raced back to the 18th tee for the two extra ones that gave Woods the victory, another car, $522,000 in prize money and third place on the all-time earnings list.

It's not often that a day ends the way we expect it to. Humans of all shapes, sizes and colors were united by the magic of watching Tiger Woods win. Like Joe DiMaggio, Michael Jordan, Mark McGwire and a handful of truly great athletes who've gone before him, you know that once you've seen Woods play you'll never forget it.

He is a virtuoso of the putter, the Babe Ruth of the driver. His iron shots sweep into a green with purpose and poise. His lag putts take dead aim at the cup and mostly find it. On the tee he is a model of efficiency, going quietly through his pre-shot routine without undue concern or movement. He is all business, all the time. He says he just wants to get better.

Perhaps the only downside to being Tiger Woods is that he'll always be Tiger Woods. No matter where he goes, who he's with, or what he does, he will always have a job he can't quit. It's a steep price to pay but there's no going back now.


© Copyright 1998-2000 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com