And surprisingly, he’s still rather good at it. The-artist-formerly-known-as-Tiger-Woods completed his first round at Augusta today with, oh, I don’t know, only the lowest score he’s ever recorded on a Thursday of a Masters.
After recharging the batteries in sex therapy, Tiger came out and posted an impressive four-under-par 68. But, deep breaths people, let’s not get too carried away.
The conditions suited low scores as evidenced by tour geriatrics Fred Couples (50) and Tom Watson (60) taking up two of the spots ahead of him on the leaderboard.
But their arthritis will inevitably kick-in somewhere down the back nine tomorrow and the Tiger circus should roll past them in due course.
As for the rest of the humans in the field, Phil Mickelson is one stroke better than Tiger, as is baby-faced Lee Westwood and the Korean Initial Duo of Y.E. Yang and K.J. Choi.
Poor old Padraig Harrington will be sure to seek out ESPN’s Jason Sobel in the media cafe at some stage today for unwittingly jinxing the Irishman by picking him to win the Masters – he hit a paltry +2.
But do we really care about these people?
I thought not.
It was Tiger-Palooza Day at Augusta and he’ll be the conversation at most water coolers around the world. The hecklers? They were checked at the door, along with the Old Tiger.
This new guy smiled (showing off the mysterious yellow tooth that he has somehow acquired in recent times), joked with the two mortals he was paired with, and if it wasn’t for a shanked iron shot on the 14th hole in which he dropped his club, whirled around in a ballet-style pirouette motion and let out a frustrated “daaaammit”, we wouldn’t have even recognized him out there.
Hell, K.J. Choi was showing more emotion with his sneaky single-handed fist pump. Whoa, slow down there, K.J. We all saw where that emotional celebrating got Tiger.
Alas, there were no scantily clad caddies (just Steve Williams in the ridiculous looking Augusta white jumpsuit, which makes every caddy look like a painter), no sly text messages between tee shots, and he somehow resisted the urge to dry hump one of the famous pine trees that line the fairways. (Surprising really, considering Tiger may not have had sex for five months. That can’t be good for anyone, especially him.)
Overall, it was just another round of golf – middle-aged men waddling around, smacking a tiny white ball. Dull, monotonous, yet, uncontrollably riveting.
And, there are three more days to come.
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