“Normally I don’t watch golf. But I’ll watch when Tiger’s playing.”
Places you expect to hear that sentiment: Around the concession stand at Mountasia; at a World Cup viewing party; near any given skinny jeans clearance rack.
Yet those very words were spoken this past weekend by someone fairly dialed into professional golf, two-time Masters champion Bubba Watson.
Woods’ vital role in making golf matter — there is no other sport on the planet so dependent upon a single personality — has been hammered home in the three months since he went in for back repair. Looking on the lessons of his absence, one could argue that there hasn’t been a performer so indispensable since Muhammad Ali departed the heavyweight division. Not even Jordan. Not the tainted troika of Bonds/McGwire/Sosa. Certainly not Brady or Belichick, Saban or Krzyzewski.
It has become almost impossible to imagine a healthy, thriving PGA Tour without him.
There have been 15 tournaments played since Woods left the arena for back surgery. And 14 different winners. Kevin Streelman just took the Travelers Championship with an incredible closing sprint of seven consecutive birdies. Yet this parade has passed before a dwindling number of viewers and sagging interest solely because of Woods’ disappearance.
The one repeat performer over that period was Martin Kaymer, whose victories at the Players Championship and U.S. Open have marked him as the best player on the globe (hang the world rankings). Yet such dominance has been sparsely rewarded. Television ratings for both events were down big-time — the Players off 54 percent from 2013 when Woods won, the Open off 46 percent from the year before.
Taking Watson’s approach to an event he won, nearly four million fewer viewers tuned in to the last Masters Sunday than the year before.
Woods has spawned a generation of players who are now surpassing him. He no longer can overpower them. He no longer intimidates them. It is the circle of life in athletics. But none of them can fog the mirror of public awareness compared to him.
He never will catch Jack Nicklaus’ record for major victories (needs four to tie). Surely he’ll get the four PGA Tour wins of any kind he requires to better Sam Snead’s record of 82. Even if he keeps breaking down and he doesn’t, the Tour needs him out there, in a body cast if necessary.
Woods may be unwisely rushing back to play this week at an event that benefits his foundation. But at this point, it’s not about him as much as it is the current health of the Tour. Just get him out there, somehow, if only to get someone to notice. His reflected glow remains golf’s brightest spotlight.
I’ve tried to fight this Woods-is-everything mentality. Every telecast that centers on him, every headline that he owns no matter how far he trails has been a minor irritant. Can’t fight it anymore.
We just have been provided the most thorough view of what golf will be like that inevitable day when Woods no longer can compete. And it is a dark and lonely place.
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