The Triumph and Tragedy of Tiger Woods

Tiger Woods' ability to play competitive rounds at major golf championships after almost losing his leg in a car accident speaks volumes about not only his prodigious talent but also his determination, grit, and pain tolerance. Woods made the cut at the 2022 Masters ahead of several notable names, and he finished 47th. He then made the cut at the 2022 PGA Championship before withdrawing after limping through a difficult third round. There is much about Woods to be admired, emulated, and respected, both in terms of his dominance in his prime, and his determination to play through injury now.

However, obscured in the story of his remarkable comeback is why exactly he has to come back.

In February 2021, Woods suffered serious injuries in a one car accident during which he was entirely at fault due to driving far faster than the speed limit. Despite his vehicle event recorder demonstrating that he was driving in excess of 80 mph in a 45 mph zone at the time of the crash, Woods was not even issued a speeding ticket. His dangerous conduct not only caused serious injuries to himself, but he could have seriously injured or even killed innocent people. Even worse, this not the first time that Woods' reckless conduct behind the wheel potentially endangered other people. 

In May 2017, he was arrested for suspicion of DUI after police found him sitting unconscious in a damaged Mercedes Benz on the side of a road; he tested positive for five different drugs and had no explanation for how his car became damaged, but he was permitted to plead guilty to a lesser charge in exchange for entering a diversionary program. 

In November 2009, Woods crashed his car into a fire hydrant, a tree, and several hedges. He was cited for careless driving as a result of that incident. Fortunately, no one was injured other than Woods. 

Woods' injuries and the obstacles that he created for himself in his personal life are tragic notes to his golf career, but his reckless behavior behind the wheel could have led to fatal tragedies not only for himself but for innocent people and their families. While it would be inspiring to see Woods charge up the leaderboard at a major golf championship again, it would be even more inspiring if he conquers whatever causes him to get behind the wheel with such callous disregard not just for his life and limbs, but for the life and limbs of others. If Woods is only working on his golf, his life story may have a much more tragic ending than just falling short of breaking Jack Nicklaus' record for major championships won.

Tiger Woods Experiences the Full Career Arc of A Champion

Tiger Woods, who just became the second oldest winner of The Masters, is experiencing the full career arc of a champion. That arc begins with the wonder years, when the prodigy becomes the youngest to accomplish certain feats or win specific events. It would be wrong to say that at this stage championships are inevitable--nothing about competition involving skill is inevitable--but there is an expectation that the prodigy will achieve and sustain greatness. Because of that expectation, the first championships may come more with a feeling of relief than of joy, and there may be an accompanying feeling of pressure to maintain a high standard of play.

After those first titles, the champion goes through his prime, when winning titles appears to be effortless. That perception is incorrect, of course; championships are only achieved after much hard work is put in, and the margin between winning and losing is rarely large, even if the final score suggests otherwise.

Father Time is undefeated, so at some point the champion ages and new contenders enter their own wonder years. Each title won by the champion at this point may be his last, and thus these latter titles may feel more meaningful or precious; the hard work that must be put in to win these titles is apparent to everyone: Tiger Woods has to get up in the middle of the night to loosen up his back before playing the final round at Augusta.

Winning a first title is great but winning a title in your 40s--when there is much doubt (including, perhaps, even at least a little self-doubt--is very satisfying.

The images of Tiger embracing his children--who are too young to remember prodigy Tiger or dominant Tiger--are priceless, and it is an added blessing that his mother was able to witness Tiger's triumph as well; Tiger's father is no longer with us but he is surely smiling down on his son.

Watching Tiger win a major as an older player who is no longer consistently dominant brings to mind Bill Russell's last title run with the Boston Celtics and Pete Sampras' final U.S.Open title. The difference, though, is that Russell had already announced his pending retirement and Sampras never played again on Tour (though he did not formally announce his retirement until shortly before the next year's U.S. Open), but Tiger iso regaining his mental and physical strength; it is doubtful that he will ever dominate to the extent that he did during his prime, but he could conceivably be a credible contender in majors for the next several years, and--with his 15th major win under his belt--possibly even renew his quest to break Jack Nicklaus' record of 18 wins in majors.

The Best Thing About Sports: The Ever Changing, Unpredictable Narratives

We thought that we knew the story. Mike Tyson was an unstoppable force, a knockout machine so fearsome that he seemed to win many of his fights before they even began as his terrified opponents stared at him through saucer-sized, fearful eyes. Then Buster Douglas came along and Tyson looked less like an all-time great and more like the neighborhood bully who finally met someone who was not afraid of him.

We thought that we knew the story. John Elway and the Denver Broncos could never win the big one. Elway had a rocket arm and nimble feet but he was destined to come up short in the Super Bowl. Then Terrell Davis arrived, Coach Mike Shanahan tinkered with the offense and Elway won back to back Super Bowls as a stirring coda to a Hall of Fame career. 

We thought that we knew the story. The 2007 New England Patriots seemed to be the ultimate team of destiny, a squad that had recently won three Super Bowls in four years, had just completed the first 16-0 regular season in NFL history and was now poised to finish 19-0 by winning a fourth Super Bowl. Then Eli Manning and the New York Giants pulled off perhaps the biggest upset in Super Bowl history.

We thought that we knew the story. Tiger Woods was destined to shatter Jack Nicklaus' record for major championships, while Phil Mickelson was a talented but flawed player whose reckless approach would inevitably lead to thrilling moments followed by baffling choke jobs. The same thing was true of Woods that used to be said of Nicklaus: He knew that he was the best, his opponents knew that he was the best and he knew that his opponents knew. Woods never came from behind to win a major championship but he never needed to come from behind because he usually had lapped the field by Sunday. Chess Grandmasters once spoke of "Fischer Fear," referring to the way that Bobby Fischer intimidated other great players to such an extent that those players performed far below their normal standard against him; for many years it seemed like golf's best players suffered from "Woods Fear," collapsing down the stretch of tournaments at the mere sight of Woods prowling the back nine. Then Woods' personal life crashed--literally and figuratively--and he struggled to regain his former dominance; Woods may still believe that he is the best (or he may doubt that at some level, which could be part of his problem) but it is clear that his competitors no longer suffer from "Woods Fear."

Meanwhile, Mickelson--whose personal life seems to be the steady and grounded opposite of his free-swinging playing style--has figured out how to seize the big moments on Sunday at major championships as opposed to shrinking from those moments. Mickelson has won more majors since 2004 (five) than any golfer except for Woods (six) and he seems to be getting better with age, while Woods' game does not seem to be aging well; Woods used to be the ultimate finisher but in his past several majors he has started strongly only to falter down the stretch and it is unclear if the problem is physical, mental or some combination of both factors. It is a tribute to Woods' former greatness that despite his recent drought he still has won more majors in the past nine years than anyone else (and more than Mickelson has won in his entire career) but unless Woods undergoes some kind of revival the narrative of his career--and of his rivalry with Mickelson--will be much different than anyone could have imagined as recently as that fateful Thanksgiving weekend in 2009 when Woods' private life became a source of public mockery and derision.

The great thing about sports is that competition is the ultimate unscripted drama. We may think that we know the characters and we may think that we know the stories but people can change their lives and write new, previously unimaginable tales.