I’m feeling a bit cheated this morning.
Tiger is in first place, and I just can’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be. The striped one plays mediocre golf—even poor golf by his own championship standards—on fifteen holes, catches lightening on three and finds himself in the lead.
I expected to see him in first, but wanted to see a worthy performance. What I got was a trick shot artist. A miracle chip-in, two improbably long putts and he covers all the sins of the previous holes.
Right now, Tiger’s being celebrated for overcoming his bad knee, but he really hasn’t. While everyone is gawking at the amazing putt on thirteen, they’re forgetting that he drove completely off the fairway from the tee. Only the fact that the ball came to rest on trampled grass under spectators feet gave him a chance to get to the green. That’s not what I want to see from Tiger. Phil maybe. From Tiger, I want a little more precision.
Today, I’m hoping he hits fairways and greens and wins the tournament in a Tiger like fashion. If he falters, his knee will be all we hear about for the next six months. And the media will work hard to depreciate the efforts of the winner: “He (Westwood perhaps) would not have won if Tiger’s knee had held up” will be the hackneyed cliche.
I’d hate to be the winner today, if its not going to be Tiger.