Dear Tiger,
Congrats on the comeback. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing you on the course again. I will be glued to the television today, and every day for the rest of the week, as you take to the course for real for the first time since you won the U.S. Open last year on one leg.
At the risk of sounding like I have a man-crush on you, I do have to tell you you are the reason I watch golf. Before you came along in the 1990's I could have cared less about the sport. I never saw Jack or Arnie in their prime. I could never put my arms (as a fan) around the likes of Greg Norman, Nick Price, Nick Faldo, Corey Pavin, or Fred Couples. Ernie Els was always too robotic for my taste, and Phil Mickelson hadn't won when it counted.
But then you came along, and you changed what golf was supposed to be. Your game was (and is) poetry in motion. What drew me to you though (besides your game, of course), was that you wore your emotions on your sleeve. It was something we hadn't seen before in a sport where pumping your fist after a big shot was considered unsportsmanlike. Your game got us to watch you, but it was your emotions that drew you closer to us. How many times have we, as weekend hackers, thrown a club in disgust after slicing one into the trees? How many times have we slammed a putter to the ground after missing a gimme two-footer? What you did by showing us your emotions was put yourself on our level, and we as fans appreciated that.
I'll admit, it took me a while to appreciate your greatness. When you won The Masters in 1997, I thought it was nice, but it didn't instantly convert me. It was a process that took time, but by the time you had demolished the field at the 2000 U.S. and British Opens, I was hooked.
You have also inspired me to pick the game up as well. Granted, I haven't exactly been Tiger-like on the course, but I now understand why people pick up the game as they get older. It's about hitting that little white ball, and hearing that sound. Everyone knows what 'that sound' is. If you don't, I'll spell it out for you. It's the sound that is made when the club hits the ball perfectly. It's the sound that's made when you know you've hit the hell out of the ball. It's the sound that's made every time you pull the driver out of the bag, Tiger (though recent history suggests you leave the big club in the bag).
So, I'm glad you're back. And, much to my wife's chagrin, I'll be glued to the couch if you make the weekend at the World Golf Championships (it would be foolish to just assume you'll win the whole thing, right?).
Trust me, I'm not the only one who feels this way. No golfer will have a bigger crowd following him this weekend than you will (that should tick Mr. Mickelson off). Fans around the country are just as happy as I am that you're back.
The TV networks are happy as well. Padraig Harrington was a nice story, but good old Paddy doesn't quite bring the ratings in that you do. The PGA will be happy. In these tough economic times, people don't have the money (necessarily) to go and buy tickets to a PGA event. But, the chance to see you live (as I did nine years ago at Valhalla) is once in a lifetime. It's a good bet that this weekends WGC event will be a sellout.
Even the other golfers will be happy that you're back. They must realize that you are the straw that stirs the drink. Your success has a trickle down effect. The other golfers might not like it, but they benefit from it.
So, welcome back, Tiger. And do us all a favor.
Don't leave us for half a season again!
Cordially,
Cliff Saunders
Check out my podcast for thoughts on Jim Calhoun's Meltdown, Money, and Athletes!
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