Fifteen years ago, I witnessed the most amazing thing.
It was Saturday, June 17, 2000 at Pebble Beach Golf Links, site of the U.S. Open, and I followed Tiger Woods for every step of his third round in what will remain one of the most remarkable competitive performances in sports history.
Everyone remembers how the tournament ended and there were countless highlights along the way, many of which I was lucky to watch first-hand as well. But the third round sticks out to me because Woods was paired with Thomas Bjorn, who would finish the year ranked 20th in the world and with two top-three finishes at the majors to his credit. Through 36 holes, Bjorn was tied for second at the U.S. Open. It was hot and windy and dry. The greens were baked by late in the day and scoring conditions were next to impossible. The only golfer to break par was Ernie Els.
Woods beat Bjorn by 11 shots that afternoon with an even par-71. One world-class player was completely over-matched by the circumstance. The greatest golfer of his era crushed it. It was so typical. As the rest of the field wilted, Woods got stronger. His will to focus on every putt, every chip was visceral. I was inside the ropes and many times through the round was close enough he could have been in my living room. He didn’t notice me or anyone else. He wasn’t golfing, he was fighting — the field, the conditions, himself — and he won.
Back then, Tiger didn’t always win, but it certainly seemed like it.
The 100th U.S. Open will always be remembered as the greatest single performance in the greatest summer a golfer has ever had and one of the most dominant performances by any athlete in any sport. Woods blew the field away by 15 strokes, breaking records that had stood for more than 150 years. It was the equivalent of a pitcher surpassing Cy Young.
Woods went on to win the British Open at St. Andrews by a record eight shots and then — just to prove he could win a close one — snagged the PGA Championship in a playoff against Bob May. I was greenside when Woods rolled in his putt to force the playoff in Louisville. I never doubted he would drop it. By the time Woods won the 2001 Masters — completing the ‘Tiger Slam’ by winning the four majors consecutively — his legend was complete.
This was Woods claiming his spot alongside Michael Jordan and Babe Ruth as a cultural metaphor.
If you wanted to capture how expert someone was at anything, you’d say they were the ‘Michael Jordan of writing code’ or the ‘Michael Jordan of parallel parking’ — just like prodigious feats were ‘Ruthian.’
At age 24 and in just his fifth year as a pro, Woods earned the same consideration. Woods wasn’t just the best golfer, or best athlete; there was a legitimate argument that Woods was better at golf than anyone was at anything.
His opening round at Chambers Bay Golf Course marked the 15th anniversary — to the day — of Woods’ first U.S. Open victory.
It also just so happened to mark a new low in the greatest fall we’ll ever see in professional sports. I can say that with confidence because the list of athletes who conceivably shared the peak with Woods can be probably counted on two hands, and none have crashed so completely.
As ESPN golf writer Jason Sobel tweeted so aptly Thursday:
On the 18th fairway, Woods hit a shot just like I would hit a shot. With cameras watching and the gallery hushed, he topped his ball with a 3-wood. It bounced along the fairway and settled into Chambers Basement — a 10-foot deep pit in the middle of the fairway. As Woods trudged down the nine stairs to get to his ball, the camera stayed on him until he disappeared from view. Talk about metaphors. This was Tiger at rock bottom.
Fifteen years ago, Woods was on his way to setting all kinds of records that will likely never be surpassed; now he’s piling up markers of his own futility.
From 1996 through 2014, Woods played 1,241 rounds as a pro and had only one round in the 80s — an 81 in a rain-soaked gale at the 2002 Open Championship at Muirfield. His 80 on Thursday was his third round in the 80s this year and came on the heels of his career-worst 85 at The Memorial just two weeks ago.
It was his highest round at the U.S. Open and left him 152nd in a field of 156, another new low. He will play Friday and head home, having missed the cut or withdrawn for the seventh time in his last 13 events, another telling number for a golfer who once went more than seven years without leaving a tournament early.
Woods tries to sound brave, citing his injuries and his efforts to re-craft his swing as the reasons he’s struggling so badly.
“They’re all not easy to do,” he said. “I’ve gone through tough phases in each one of these things and I’ve come out OK on the other side.”
For the longest time I was sure he would be Tiger Woods again. I’d seen him at his best too often to allow myself to believe that he couldn’t do it. Even if he never returned to peak form, a slightly diminished Woods would have enough to win regularly and renew his chase of Jack Nicklaus’ record of 18 major victories.
I can’t see that happening and I can’t imagine anyone else does either.
Greg Norman is doing the broadcast on Fox this week. He’s a man who knows his share of golfing pain. He authored the worst choke job (and I don’t use that term lightly or loosely) when he cratered with a 40 on the back nine at the 1996 Masters, blowing a six-shot final round lead.
“We all hate to see players go through this,” said Norman as Woods was jeered by the crowd walking up the 18th fairway on Thursday. “To see it on national television in the national championship, to cold-top a (3-wood) …”
Norman trailed off, the point made.
In 15 years, Woods has gone from the peak of his sport — or even sports — to pitiable.
It’s an arc unlike anything I’ve ever seen or that we’ll ever see again.