The first thing you notice when standing next to Tiger Woods—aside from his biceps, which are barely contained by his golf shirt, and the fact that he’s 100,000 times fitter than you could ever dream of being—is his posture. It’s perfect: back straight, chest out, head back. While there’s plenty about him you can take issue with, not even the nitpickiest of mothers could find much fault in his stance. He always looks utterly sure of himself, which is something that hasn’t wavered, even when his game has in the past couple of years. That confidence was on display about 15 months ago in Orlando at Arnold Palmer’s annual tournament at the Bay Hill Club & Lodge, an event Woods had won six times previously. The former No. 1 golfer on the planet stood tall, marching up and down the fairways like he owned the place—and not at all like the guy who posted a double-bogey on the final hole to finish in a tie for 24th, seven strokes off the pace.
It’s that backbone—you might call it arrogance if you’re not a fan—that helps explain why Sean Foley was so sure his prized pupil would recapture that famous intimidation factor. When I asked Woods’s swing coach about it that weekend, Foley, standing on the driving range at Bay Hill with his camera slung over his shoulder as always, didn’t have much doubt. The superstar’s 16-month funk, Foley said, was merely a “hiccup.” Considering all that was going on, that assertion was a bit hard to believe—comical even. At the time, Woods was at war with his swing, walking on a left knee that had gone under the knife four times, and still dealing with the fallout from the most embarrassing sex scandal in the history of mankind—the net result of which was an estimated $100-million divorce from Elin Nordegren, the mother of his two children. “Eventually,” Foley promised, “his game will do the same thing to people that it has in the past.”
In other words, make his fellow pros crumble. An intimidating glare has always been one of Woods’s most important weapons. A 15th club in his bag—one that nobody else has, and one that never, ever misses the mark. And there is something about hearing Woods’s footsteps that can germinate a tiny seed of doubt in the minds of even the very best golfers. And when Tiger is on, it’s all the edge he needs to bury you. That, more than almost anything, was what pundits and other pros pointed to as missing during his much-publicized title drought.
All the while, Woods and Foley preached patience. More reps, they said. He’s still the same Tiger. He’s just working out some issues. And though it took long enough for most to write him off completely, “eventually” came in the form of a commanding five-stroke victory at Bay Hill exactly 12 months and a day after Foley uttered the word. Then, proving that win wasn’t a fluke, Woods roared back to catch Rory Sabbatini on the back nine to win the Memorial Tournament this month. The trademark fist pumps that Woods threw after draining that 50-foot flop shot on No. 16 (“The most unbelievable, gutsy shot I’ve ever seen,” said tournament host Jack Nicklaus) were especially emphatic. Perhaps he was pretending to knock out all his haters with those wild uppercuts. That win at Muirfield Village Golf Club was career No. 73, tying him for second all-time with the Golden Bear and putting him nine behind Sam Snead. Woods has already earned nearly $3 million through just nine events in 2012; he’s held the top spot in total driving (distance and accuracy) for much of the year; he posted a 62 in March, the best final round of his career; and after dropping as low as 51st in the world, a fall that began with the trashing of his Escalade a couple of Thanksgivings ago, he was ranked fourth heading into the U.S. Open. Simply put, Woods, still bearing much of the weight of the game on his shoulders and with a majority of the public refusing to forgive him for his sins, is mounting the biggest sports comeback of all time.
Fans love a comeback. There have been the legendary one-offs. Bobby Thomson’s “shot heard ’round the world” to cap off a New York Giants ninth-inning come-from-behind win over Brooklyn, earning his team a spot in the 1951 World Series. Jack Nicklaus, at 46, making up five shots in the final round of the 1986 Masters to win his sixth green jacket and 18th major. And the Buffalo Bills erasing a 32-point deficit in January 1993 to beat Houston 41–38 in the AFC wild card game. Then there are the career resurrections. After dropping as low as 141st in the world in 1997, Andre Agassi won the Australian Open six years later. That year, at 33 years old, he became the oldest No. 1–ranked player in ATP history. Kurt Warner rose from a grocery-bagging arena footballer to NFL MVP. Several years later, after struggling through injuries and stints as a backup, he returned to glory, leading Arizona to the 2009 Super Bowl. And then there are the famous re-emergences. Mario Lemieux battled cancer and back problems in his career, then rejoined the NHL in 2000 after more than three years of retirement. He was a finalist for the Hart Trophy that season, and the comeback was highlighted by his captaining of Team Canada to gold at the 2002 Olympics. Michael Jordan, who won three titles with Chicago before taking an 18-month break to pursue his big league dreams, returned to the hardcourt in ’95 and helped the Bulls win three more championships. Muhammad Ali came all the way back after being banned for three years from boxing and stripped of his title in 1967. But while he was still in several classic battles, Ali was getting hit like never before.
The common thread running through most comeback stories is a central character who fans can get behind. That’s what makes the case of Woods so unique—and, arguably, more impressive. He’s orchestrating this all while playing the villain. In some ways, his comeback has more in common with Michael Vick’s. Like Woods, the NFL quarterback suffered his own ridiculously humiliating self-inflicted scandal. Vick, of course, suffered more than just a public shaming for his part in running a dog-fighting ring. He spent 21 months in jail for his crime, in fact. Following his return to football in 2009, Vick was rewarded by the Philadelphia Eagles with a six-year, $100-million deal. That in and of itself is a remarkable feat. But in three seasons, Vick has failed to lead the Eagles any farther than an NFL playoff wild card game.
The pair were also linked earlier this year when they tied for the top spot in a Nielsen poll identifying America’s most disliked athlete—both Woods and Vick were met with disapproval by 60 percent of those surveyed. While Woods’s faithful have lined the fairways and roared for every big shot post-scandal, the majority of non-golf fans with an opinion of him don’t have a good one. They can’t get past the sordid tales of porn stars that were splashed all over the tabloids. And his swearing and tossing of clubs don’t help his case, even among many golf nuts. In the earliest stages of this comeback, Team Tiger promised to work on that part of his game. And for a while he did. Woods was signing more autographs, keeping his cool (for the most part) on the course, and was even a little less testy with the press. But more and more every week, Woods is becoming the Tiger of old. Or, simply put, more like himself. For golf fans, that’s a good thing. It’s a proven fact, after all, that an angry Tiger is a far deadlier one. There’s no knowing for sure how much of a motivator all the hate has been. But for a guy as driven and competitive as Woods, it’s a pretty safe bet to say it’s played a role.
Adding to the improbability of this comeback are the stakes. Golf needs Woods more than any of the other sports needed their comeback kids. There have been attempts to create the next big thing—the promoting of Rory, Rickie, and Bubba to name a few. And while they’re all incredible talents, nobody has exhibited the same kind of dominance Woods did or the ability to sell the game globally. Fact is, diehards are going to plunk down on the couch to watch the Zurich Classic of New Orleans or the Shell Houston Open no matter who’s leading. But, as the ratings show, it takes Woods in contention on Sunday to get the casual fan interested. And we’re not just talking about the Majors. Woods’s late charge at the Memorial Tournament netted CBS a 138 percent increase in viewership over the 2011 tournament, when Steve Stricker—not a household name but a Tour powerhouse in his own right—won and promptly moved into fourth place in the world ranking.
Woods as the main attraction is even more magnified along the fairways and greens of every tour stop. And it’s never more noticeable than when he finishes up at a hole before his playing partner. The instant his Nike drops into the cup, the crowd races to the next green. “He’s not the only guy out here, you know?” is the expression plastered across more than one marshal’s face while trying in vain to stop the rush. It makes you wonder if people are paying to see Woods, not a golf tournament.
Through it all—and partly because of his epic downfall—Woods is one of only a few pros people will still be telling their grandchildren about in 60 years. Stories about where they were when Woods won the 1997 Masters by 12 strokes, or who they were with when the news broke that he’d smashed up his SUV. For one woman at Bay Hill a couple years ago, it’ll be the story of how she watched Woods rip a perfect 300-yard drive down the middle of the fairway before flipping his club to his caddy and deking into a nearby Porta-Potty. Shocked by the site of the superstar slumming it, she whispered, “So he is human.” And for one middle-aged man, it might be the time, witnessed that same weekend in Orlando, he hugged it out with a total stranger—one, it should be noted, who didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised or bothered by the overly friendly gesture—after Woods sunk a long but rather meaningless putt.
Whether or not the majority of these Tiger tales will be about action on the course rather than his affairs off it will depend on how Woods handles this next chapter. For hard-liners, no doubt including Woods himself, this comeback story won’t be complete unless he breaks Nicklaus’s record of 18 major titles. Woods, now 36, will get as many as 55 more shots at a major before he turns 50, and he’ll need to win 9.1 percent of those events to dethrone Jack. As noted in these pages a couple of months ago, that’s still plenty of time, health permitting. But it’s going to take a lot more than the performance he put in at Augusta this year, when he finished tied for 40th.
That said, the fact that he’s still gunning for it after everything that’s happened says a lot about the man. Woods could have taken the billion or so dollars he’s earned in his career and escaped to Privacy, his 155-ft. yacht, or that new 10,000-sq. ft. mansion sitting seaside in Jupiter, Fla. But he didn’t. Though the scandal surely humbled him, he’s still plenty proud. And he wouldn’t spend two years looking terribly average out there if he didn’t think it was going to be worth it in the end.
One can easily affix all kinds of deserving labels on Woods. Many of those wouldn’t be deemed fit for print in a family magazine such as this one. But say what you will. When it comes to the golf course, at least, he’s no slouch.
This article originally appeared in Sportsnet magazine.