After the first round of the Phoenix Open, Tiger Woods had posted a score of 73. Two over par. Maybe not too shabby, but there was a problem. The par 71 course was being sliced and diced by most everybody else, so Eldrick found himself 9 shots back. That's a bunch after only one round.
But after all, he was still rounding back into "tournament shape", he said in a post-round press conference. OK.
On to the second round. Tiger would shoot an embarrassing 82. If he had driven a car like he did the golf ball, he would have been arrested for DUI. His chipping game looked like he was alternately playing with nerf clubs or sledge hammers. Putting? He found his stroke again, alright. Lots of them. Stroke, stroke, stroke. Bless her heart, it reminded yours truly of the last time I took my 80-some year old mother to a putt-putt course. You know how hard it is to intentionally lose such a contest? Tiger's putting was sort of like that. Not good.
So after the second round, Tiger then found himself a ridiculous 23 strokes back. In dead last place. Mercifully, he didn't make the cut. Had he been allowed to play on Saturday and Sunday, how out of hand might have this become? Would he have wound up 40 strokes behind? 60?
But incredibly, Woods couldn't wait to talk to the reporters again. Has the man no shame in his entire being?
Consider a hockey team that just got beat by over 20 goals. A baseball team by 30 runs. A basketball or football team by 60 points. Total blowouts. Do you think any member of the losing team would want to give an interview? Of course not. They'd slink away to the locker room to lick their wounds. Not Woods. He says he's still grinding. Well golly gee whiz, that would appear to be rather obvious.
However, one never knows how Tiger might have fared if given the opportunity to play another round in Phoenix. He's been known to pull off a few miracles in the past. All he needed was a single round on Saturday like North Korean leader Kim Jong Un shot his first time out. Eight or nine holes-in-one, and an 18 hole score of, say, 45 . A record-shattering 26 under par for a single round and Tiger still wouldn't have taken the lead, but at least his total score would have become respectable. And who knows? If he went out on Sunday and followed up with yawnish 60, he might have even been "in the hunt".
But for now, Eldrick remains terrible. Rock bottom. Embarrassing. My mom and a couple of her blue-haired friends would have to spot him some strokes if he rounded out their foursome to even things up. Even up, the young lad wouldn't have a chance of winning against such competition.
Oh my, how far he has fallen. Then again, perhaps some good will come of this. If Tiger finally, mercifully admits he can no longer play with the "big boys" on Tour, maybe he can take my place with mom and her friends at the putt-putt joints.
And hey, it might not pay as well, but he'll learn a thing or two about gin rummy in the clubhouse after those hair-raising rounds on the "links" battling the windmills and evil clowns.
This whole shameless publicity thing with the press conferences would come to a screeching halt. I'm quite confident the ladies would quickly put that young whippersnapper in his place. And not even the most intrepid of reporters would rush in where angels fear to tread.
Been there, done that. Better him than me in the future.
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