Leaders Not Out of Woods

Tiger Woods and 149 of his closest friends teed off Thursday in a golf tournament, the 79th PGA Championship.

I forget their names. They’re not important anyway. Nice guys. But they’re only the chorus. Part of the scenery.

They’re playing for this little side bet of $2.6 million, $470,000 to the winner. One low ball. No mulligans.

It’s just a kind of complicated benefit for Tiger, right? A ceremonial 72 holes that will bring his year’s total, already a tour-record $1,821,895--and that’s not counting commercials--into the financial stratosphere.

It’s the Tiger Woods Show. Film at 11. They should have played “Hail to the Chief” or the triumphal march from “Aida” as he came to the first tee.

He went to three under par almost as soon as he got his shoes tied.

Winged Foot is supposed to be a 6,987-yard Hall of Horrors. Hardly any water on it. It doesn’t need any.

All golf, like Caesar’s Gaul, is divided into three parts: Tiger’s drives, Tiger’s chips, and Tiger’s putts. And he’s on Broadway this week, so to speak. If he can make it there, and so on.

What’s that, you say? Tom Kite is four under (to Tiger’s three under) after nine? Bite your tongue. Tom Kite is 47. Tiger is 21. Next question.

Colin Montgomerie? You’ve got to be kidding! Montgomerie would finish second playing by himself. He can’t win in the U.S. of A. any more than Gen. Cornwallis could.

Ernie Els, the defending Open champion? Well, they just put up a “6” for him on the par-four eighth. Take a hike, Ernie.

Wait a minute! You like the British Open winner, Justin Leonard? Well, he opened with a bogey, then shot three birdies and another bogey. For a 34. Forget the 68. A fluke.

Nick Faldo? Three-time British Open winner, three-time Masters winner? Threw a little 39 on the par-35 front nine, 75 altogether. God save the king and all that.

No, what we’ve got here this week is your basic Hold-That-Tiger golf. Not a tournament, a parade. Not only golf, but corporate America has a stake in this young man. Everyone’s waiting to throw his hat in the air. Newspaper and magazine editors from coast to coast, TV producers all over the world are counting on him. Phil Mickelson can flip in all those gorgeous flop shots he wants. He doesn’t sell papers, get ratings, stop traffic. The reaction is “Very nice, Phil, now hit it in the water.”

Golf had Sarazen-Hagen. Then it had Snead-Hogan. Then, Palmer-Nicklaus. Then, nobody.

Now it has Tiger Woods. Period. Tiger doesn’t do partners. He’s a soloist. Like Caruso. Lindbergh. Billy the Kid. One of a kind. The only time you hear any noise on the course, it’s from Tiger’s gallery.

All of a sudden, Tiger’s gallery is as quiet as a library, long faces, stricken looks, muffled sobs.

Our hero has put a “7” up on the board! On a par five. Now, ordinarily, par fives are Tiger meat. A drive and an eight-iron. But abruptly golf is about to don a black armband. It’s like Casey striking out.

The No. 12 hole is no big deal, 540 yards, birch trees on the left, small green. But Tiger makes fortunes on holes like that.

Not this day. It rains on his parade, so to speak. Suddenly, he is scrambling.

Then, the electrifying news spreads through the press room. Guess who is out there dismantling Winged Foot?

John Daly is who! Golf’s missing person. The pro from Cutty Sark. When last seen at the U.S. Open, he was walking off the course in the middle of the second round, mumbling to himself.

John was once Golf’s Golden Boy, but his game had long since disappeared into a bottle. He was eligible for this tournament because he had won it in 1991 (he also won the British two years ago). Otherwise the closest he could get to it would be Channel 2.

No one ever called John Daly “Tiger.” He is supposed to hit the ball massive distances like Tiger. Like Tiger, he will have nine-iron second shots to par-five greens. Unlike Tiger, he has been very apt to screw them up, miss the putts and head for the nearest bar stool.

And if he had shot a “7” on a hole, he might be gone by the next tee.

Tiger did not go gently into that good night Thursday. Too many people, too much money depending on him. He put the wheels back on his game and finished with four safe pars and a 70. When he won the Masters this year, he started with a 70.

“I didn’t get everything I could out of the round, but this is a good start--70 is a good score,” he reminded the press.

Golf can rest easy, but his 149 close friends better head for the practice tee on the double. The Tiger has not been tamed.

“This course can lull you into being too aggressive,” he explains. “Some of these pins are in sucker locations, try to suck you into going for it. You have to play smart.

“You know, in a major tournament when you hit a bad shot, you should be penalized. That’s what differentiates a major from a run-of-the-mill. You take your penalty.”

In other words, you don’t turn one mistake into three.

If Tiger has started to think, to engineer his way around a course as well as stiff-arm it, order may be restored. You can start the calliope again. If I were the rest of golf, I’d play for second. Golf is still Tiger country. If not, the headline will not say who won, it will say he lost. “Tiger Loses.” Golf loses. We all lose. It’s like Ruth striking out, Grange getting tackled in the end zone, Jerry Rice dropping a touchdown pass, Ali getting floored.

Relax. It can’t happen. Whose game is this anyway?