Tiger Gets the Call for Unnecessary Roughness

The long search for somebody who can stare down Tiger Woods abruptly ended Thursday, in growing darkness, without an Ernie Els in sight.

You really want to freak out the tough guy?

Pair him with a cell phone.

It happened on the 17th hole at Riviera, at the end of the first round of the Nissan Open, with an angry, frazzled Woods grabbing the tournament lead in yips and bleeps.

He figured his hometown would welcome him with bells on, but ...

The furor began when Woods, whose ball had been dancing awkwardly around the greens all afternoon, missed a six-foot birdie putt and began cursing loud enough to be heard in Brentwood backyards.

Then, while stroking through his ensuing four-foot par putt, Woods was startled by a cell phone blaring from a man’s handbag.

He missed the putt. He blamed the man. He cursed again.

“Turn off the cell phone!” he shouted at the offender, pointing angrily. “Turn off the ... cell phone!”

It was not known whether the call was from someone wondering whether inferior equipment had caused Woods to blow the shot.

Perhaps it was Annika Sorenstam phoning to remind him that she’s got next.

Whoever it was, they called right back, which infuriated Woods even more.

With the bag ringing and the crowd stunned silent, Woods glared at the man until crack Riviera security forces rushed in and confiscated the phone and carted away the owner.

“I didn’t know,” said a very confused culprit who would identify himself only as Mr. Chung, thus disproving the rumor that he was actually a heavily disguised Phil Mickelson.

Regardless, after the incident ended, Woods’ concentration was put on call waiting.

He made the two-foot putt for bogey, then survived the final hole for par to finish with a one-over-par 72, tying him for 24th place after a round that was halted because of darkness.

Hopes for redemption this morning rest on no more wind, better reads for his putts, and bar soap for his mouth.

“It was a long day, a long tough day,” Woods said.

But a necessary day, for Woods’ heroics have always been based on his humanity.

We need to see him get mad, to better appreciate his calm. We need to hear his growl, to better appreciate his smile.

His most memorable round last year was perhaps not his best, but his worst, the 81 he shot on the third day of the British Open. Thus we were even more speechless the next day, when he rejoined the heavens with a 65.

Woods’ image is smooth to the point of desperately needing a few potholes, particularly now, after last week’s win in La Jolla proved that Woods is so charmed he can have a storybook beginning.

He beat arthroscopic knee surgery. He performed reconstruction on Mickelson. In his first tournament of the year. Is there anything he can’t do?

Well, as a matter of fact, yes.

After Thursday, we know.

He can’t do cell phones.

“He shouldn’t have had that cell phone on, period,” Woods said when I asked him if he regretted cursing the man in public.

I told him that, yes, I understood the tournament rule about no cell phones but that ...

” Period,” he said again, interrupting me.

One of the lousy things about being Tiger Woods -- and OK, there’s not many of them -- is that he plays every round in an IMAX. He is constantly surrounded by sound, even on Thursday, when his gallery was relatively small and surprisingly quiet.

Cameras were clicking, fans were shuffling, helicopters were buzzing and, at one point, even a small blimp was landing.

Woods said only it’s the sounds he doesn’t expect that rattle him.

“This was right in my down-stroke,” he said of the cell phone. “It was a very foreign sound, something you don’t hear often on a golf course.”

So, too, though, was his potty mouth.

He could have probably made the same point to the man without the obscene dramatics, and hopefully by today he’ll regret it, because his legacy of domination is too valuable for it to ever be confused with bullying.

What, you think maybe sitting courtside at Staples Center for Tuesday’s Laker game rubbed off on him?

Not that we all couldn’t use the lesson on this wind-streaked, fluky afternoon of humility.

Remember the commercials in which ordinary people claimed, “I am Tiger Woods?”

Well, thankfully, some days Tiger Woods is us.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.