Following Tiger Woods at the Masters Reveals Plenty of Pain but Zero Quit

Ross Dellenger got to follow his boyhood hero around Augusta National on Saturday; the round was shaky but the effort was never in question.

Author:
Ross Dellenger
Updated:
Apr 9, 2022
Original:
Apr 9, 2022

AUGUSTA, Ga. – Everyone gets old. Everyone gets tired.

We all get beaten and broken. We hurt. And eventually, we quit — our jobs, our lives, our sport, our craft. Some of us return, only to quit again. We all have expiration dates. Even our idols, our role models, the people we wanted to be, and if we couldn’t be them, then we wanted to be like them.

I wanted to be like Tiger Woods.

My junior high and high school years, 1998-2002, overlapped with his best years as a pro and triggered my interest in golf. I spent years studying his book, “How I Play Golf,” attempting to replicate his long drives, his smooth chips, his perfect putts. As a high school golfer (not a good one), I wanted to be like him in every way. I wanted to have a muscular build. I hoped to trigger loud roars. I wished to have a reason to pump that famous right upper cut (I once holed a side-winding, downhill putt to extend a playoff and I belched a loud grunt, missing my only real fist-pumping chance — Damn!).

On Saturday at the Masters, winding through a maze of perfectly manicured turf, amid unseasonably cold weather, blustery winds and gray skies, I saw my idol in a state of complete pain, shattered almost. I saw Tiger Woods use his club as a cane. I saw him limp down hills and hobble up them.

I saw him three-putt four times and four-putt a fifth hole on the way to a 6-over-par 78. I saw him wince, toss his putter at his bag and feign snapping an iron over his knee. I saw him shoot himself out of the tournament before he made the turn.

I saw an ailing 46-year old, the chilly temperatures and hilly layout wrecking his fused back, his repaired knees and of course his reconstructed right leg, a rod and bolts holding it together.

I saw an old, tired man, beaten and broken and hurt all over.

But what I didn’t see is quit.

After the round, in obvious pain, his on-course adrenaline gone, Woods limped toward a small contingent of reporters, gingerly walking up a flight of stairs and using his left leg to hoist himself onto a podium.

Why is he doing this? What’s he have to prove? What’s he showing America?

“Never give up. Always chase after your dreams,” he said in response. “I fight each and every day. Each and every day is a challenge. It presents its own different challenges for all of us. Wake up and you start the fight all over again.”

There was something about this round that went beyond the obvious, something deeper, something different. It felt like history with every step. It felt like watching the most legendary player in the sport’s history in a bloody 10-round boxing match with his beaten body, the feisty elements and this treacherous course.

The thousands of patrons following along felt it too. The members of Tiger Mania swayed with each shot. More than anything, they appreciated Big Cat’s fight. Encircling the greens — sometimes 15 deep — they rose to deliver a standing ovation as he strode onto the short grass on each hole.

“We love you!” one man yelled.

“We are proud of you!” another screamed.

Everyone noticed the pain. It was obvious.

“He’s limping worse today,” a woman noted as he hobbled down the third hole.

At the par-5 13th, Woods nestled his second shot within 30 feet from 221 yards (he eventually birdied). A man was left aghast by the shot. How could he? How did he?

“His body is being held together by Scotch tape,” the fan said.

Saturday’s round felt like this was the new version of Tiger, the older, wounded Tiger, the one who will have to battle each shot, each round, each event, and the one who is unlikely to play many tournaments outside of the majors for the rest of his career.

Some even believe he’s completely done.

“This could be his last Masters,” one man whispered to his wife from behind the 18th green.

No way, right? There’s no quit in the Big Cat, at least not yet.

But Saturday did have a surreal feeling, in a way like Coach K’s final march this past spring. How many times will Tiger be in such a position - heading into a weekend inside the top-20 on the leaderboard of a major? He’s already a few months older than the oldest Masters winner (Jack Nicklaus in 1986).

The crowd never thinned, even as he played the last three holes in four-over par. They oohed and aahed, they yelled and screamed. They appreciated their embattled Gladiator grinding in the arena.

But let’s get something straight: The figurative hill in which Woods climbs is in part his own doing (don’t drive 87 mph in a 45, for instance).

However, his leg wasn’t the only issue Saturday. When he teed off at 1 p.m., temperatures hovered around 50 degrees with a wind chill in the 40s. Patrons were in wool caps and ski hats, there were gloves and scarves. While walking with Tiger, many of them asked tournament staff members if there were fire pits or heaters nearby (there were not, of course).

In the cold, Tiger’s surgically fused back tightened up.

“It’s not as limber or loose as it is normally here,” he said.

That made for some approach shots that left him more than 40 feet away from the pin. He never got comfortable on the greens, he said, never felt right no matter how much mid-round tinkering he did.

“With as many putts as I hit, you think I would have figured it out one time down the line,” he laughed. “I had a thousand putts on the greens out there.”

Poor putting, wayward iron shots, an ailing body. It’s all true. He’s old now, far from the young gun we remember, the man we tried to emulate. He’s beaten and he’s broken. And he’s hurt.

But quit? No.

Woods three-putted the 18th hole, a second double bogey of his round. And yet, he paced off the green to a rousing ovation. The man we always wanted to be, the idol, the role model, the best.

“Keep fighting!” a man yell toward him. “Keep fighting, baby!”

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