Time to bow and tremble; Tiger’s back!

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Time to bow and tremble; Tiger’s back!

Sports

Saturday, 10 April 2010 00:00

Rick Pedone
Sports Editor
This, I just know it, is going to happen today.
After wrapping myself up like a mummy while trying to apply window tint to the venerable Hyundai, which functions like a rolling greenhouse after the vernal equinox, no one will answer at window tint customer support.
Why?
“Sorry, there is no one here to help you now, because Tiger Woods is playing at the Masters. If you require immediate assistance, tell your wife to hack you out of the window tint with a machete. Besides, why in the world are you trying to tint windows when Tiger Woods is playing?”
It’s going to be like that all over the country this weekend.
We won’t be able to buy a burger, anywhere.
“Sorry, our restaurant is closed because Tiger Woods is playing at the Masters. If you require immediate nutrition, take your machete and chop down your neighbor’s tomato plant. He won’t see you because he is inside, where he belongs, watching Tiger Woods play golf, like every other rational person in the 48 contiguous states, plus Hawaii, Alaska and probably Guam.”
Maybe it was that stark, black and white Nike commercial for Tiger, with the late Earl Woods’ solemn voice intoning from above, asking, ‘What have you learned?’ that sent some of us over the edge.
What have we learned?
That a narcissistic club swinger with the charisma of a croc can mesmerize an outrageously large segment of society and its media for no reason except that he can putt with the best of them, on and off the course.
Legions of Tiger’s fans wore out their boat shoes, pacing in anguish, awaiting word of when he would display the Nike Swoosh on a course again.
Now, they celebrate! The bubbly was flowing in bond trading rooms all over Wall Street this week, not because the Treasury auction was a success, but because, “Tiger’s back!”
I’ll admit, I’ve suffered from Tiger fatigue for some time, long before his wife tried to drive his lower jaw into an Isleworth fairway last fall.
Call him the greatest golfer ever, if you want.
Is that all that is required to earn hero worship of a magnitude usually reserved for Elvis, Babe Ruth, Muhammad Ali, the Mercury 7 astronauts and, of course, Dick Clark?
It’s a mystery why Tiger’s well-educated fans are so slavishly devoted when he’s treated them as, well, slaves.
Want an autograph? Wait, tremble and bow.
Please.
For the record, no, Tiger Woods is not the greatest golfer of all time.
That honor goes to Arnold Palmer, who won “just” seven major championships, but who generated lasting interest in the PGA Tour by winning millions of fans.
When you embraced Arnie, he smiled back. Arnie had his Army because he was everyman, and everyman saw a little of himself in Arnie.
Palmer instinctively knew that give-and-take is required for a sport to blossom. At age 80, Arnie still is the sport’s greatest giver, and its greatest gift.
How about the roar he got Wednesday for knocking down that 50-foot birdie putt during the par-3 tournament?
Tiger is back, and so far he indicates that he’ll be a kinder, gentler Tiger, albeit one who requires a team of 90 handlers. That’s about five short of the required number to launch a space shuttle.
The overwhelmingly positive acceptance he received at Augusta Thursday, when he shot 68 in the opening round, seemed to have touched Tiger. Maybe he, now, truly gets it. Maybe he is beginning to understand that being a great golfer is a hollow accomplishment next to being a welcoming personality, one that can distribute goodwill as well as 200-yard 7-irons.
Smiling and signing some autographs isn’t hard.
Tinting windows, by comparison, is.
So, Tiger, here’s your chance to earn some MAJOR goodwill. Can you handle a razor and a squeegee as well as that 7-iron?