Tiger Woods and Another Terrible Turn of Fate

The sight of his wrecked SUV sitting lonely on a grassy hill in Southern California contradicted Tiger Woods’ image as an invincible force marching across the golf course to a certain, thrilling victory

That wasn’t always the case, and lately his victories have been far from impressive. But so much is embodied in Tiger. And in this period of pandemic and relentless loss, we struggle to face visions of a crumpled vehicle, of him lying in a hospital bed, of shattered bones and asking if he will play again – while still dissecting who he is and what he is.

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What happened to the excellent athlete who so many expected to reshape the game of golf and perhaps even the wider culture?

Woods’ greatness, once seemingly predetermined, has been toned down over the past twelve years by stunning falls from grace and betrayal of his body.

But many of us still cling to him, even if it means reaching for fragments of the memory. We remember the child prodigy who came into view on the nationally aired & # 39; Mike Douglas Show & # 39; and hit putts at the age of 2. We remember his Stanford years and the 1997 Masters, the first of 15 major titles won by age in history-making fashion. 21.

What comes to mind when you think of Woods?

Is he the superstar who lived to topple records? Who grew up with their eyes on breaking Jack Nicklaus’s record of 18 major championships? Remember, there was a time when this seemed like a bold, even arrogant goal. Then he gave chase and quickly got oh so close to Nicklaus, major after major.

Is he the golfer whose presence in a largely segregated top-tier sport was not only surprising but also a harbinger of the problems that frame our world today?

With his shimmering tan skin, strength and confidence, Woods blew down the doors of all white country clubs. Do you remember the snide and easy way that golf veteran Fuzzy referred to Zoeller Woods as “that little boy”? Or Zoeller & # 39; s public admonition at Woods not to include fried chicken and kale on the Masters champion dinner menu?

That was the golf culture that Woods stepped in and took over while the world watched.

But how did he see himself? This is where things get tricky. Raised in predominantly white suburbs by a mother from Thailand and an African American father, Woods was one of the first major sports figures to openly embrace the idea that he represented multiplicity. “Growing up,” he told Oprah Winfrey shortly after that first Masters win, “I came up with this name: I’m a Cablinasian.”

In a world struggling to move beyond putting races in neat boxes, that comment alienated some of its most ardent supporters. But being charged for appearing to keep his blackness at bay didn’t affect his popularity. However Woods defined himself, he was imbued with a certain power. Forever the pioneer and talisman. He put a torch to the old order. That was enough.

Then came 2009, and a disturbing descent. It started with tabloid stories about the married Woods dealing with serial infidelity. Eventually, his biggest flaws came to light: his illicit texts, his dates, his trips to rehab while battling addiction.

Woods was one of the first transcendent sports stars to emerge at the dawn of the digital age. His looks, his race, his swagger and shotmaking, the club’s whirls and fist bumps and sparklers – all suited YouTube and the emergence of sports apps that feast on fleeting moments and sensational emotions.

The digital age also exacerbated its problems. Every imperfection was there, personally and professionally. For a great decade, as the advancing years ravaged his body and operations piled up, Woods was a shadow of his former self. Heading into 2019, he hadn’t won a major tournament in nearly 11 years.

Still, Woods somehow remained swaddled in Teflon. The disclosure of his human weaknesses cost him a lot of fans and approvals. But a significant portion of his admirers forgave and forgot. The constant embrace was a deliberate act by an audience only too eager to hand out the second and third chances to a winner. Especially a winner like Woods.

He remained a top draw, a global icon, even as he grimaced season after season, with age and injury taking an increasingly steep toll. At one point, he was ranked 1119th in the world. But then came April 2019, and the Masters. He summoned every remnant of his former self and shot to victory as legions celebrated the green jacket of his fifth champion.

No one who watched that tournament will forget. Not just the exciting comeback, but the sight of Woods hugging his son Charlie and daughter Sam as he walked off the last green. It was reminiscent of the hug Woods’ father, Earl, gave after the Masters won in 1997. It also spoke of a dramatic change over time. Woods was no longer the rising young champion, but he could still reach the highest peaks, if only in short bursts.

April 2019 feels so long ago, given everything the world has been through in the past year.

And now this. On Tuesday we saw the remains of that S.U.V. and waited for the updates. We shuddered and remembered Kobe Bryant’s helicopter, scattered across another hill in Southern California just over a year ago. alcohol did not seem to be involved. They said he was taken from his vehicle and taken away on a stretcher.

“Unfortunately,” said one of them, “Mr. Woods could not stand on his own.”

How could such a circumstance befall Tiger Woods, who walked majestic golf courses with such purpose? It once again reminded us that heroes are human beings, fraught with weakness, unable to avoid the dire twists of fate that haunt us all.