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High Five Tiger Woods kept his streak alive with a can-you-top-this playoff victory in HawaiiPosted: Wednesday February 09, 2000 04:47 PM By John Garrity Issue date: January 17, 2000
On Dec. 30, 1999, while the world nervously awaited Y2K, Tiger Woods quietly
celebrated Y24. He dined with family and friends at a hotel in Scottsdale,
Ariz., and by midnight -- when his birthday expired -- he was already in bed.
Across the country, at his home in Windermere, Fla., it was even quieter. The
only sound was the restless lowing of crystal and silver in his overcrowded
trophy
case.
Woods is an adult now. He no longer binges on Big Macs but fills up with fresh fruit and yogurt. He maintains a close and affectionate relationship with his parents, but his score doesn't soar anymore when Earl Woods gets sick or Kultida overcooks dinner. He seems less dependent on the entourage of college pals and hangers-on who kept him amused in his rookie and second PGA Tour seasons. "As I get older and my friends get older, we each have more of our own lives," he says. With this difference: Tiger's life is a bit more compelling than theirs. He proved that again last week on Maui by defeating a select field of 1999 Tour winners at the Mercedes Championships, the first Tour event of the 21st century, give or take a calendrical quibble. His two-hole playoff victory over Ernie Els -- his fifth consecutive Tour win -- eclipsed Ben Hogan's winning streak of 1953, pulled him to within one of Hogan's '48 skein of six and kept alive the fanciful notion that Woods can equal Byron Nelson's record 11-tournament streak of '45, when the greens were much slower and pterodactyls ruled the sky. Even before Woods polished off Els and the 28 others in the field with one of the strongest finishing kicks in history (he made an eagle and two birdies on the last three holes), the air of resignation was palpable. Tiger's colleagues sighed deeply, shook their heads, and said he was "on a roll ... in the zone ... almost unbeatable." Before the third round, two caddies were overheard talking outside the clubhouse at the Kapalua Resort's Plantation Course. "Is it going to rain?" one asked, watching dark clouds tumble down the mountain slopes toward the sea and Molokai. "Yeah, but it won't rain on Tiger," the other replied. "It never rains on Tiger." Instead, Tiger reigns. On Sunday afternoon he stood next to Els on the 18th tee, staring grimly down a fairway that curves seaward like the grand staircase of an antebellum mansion. The two were tied at 14 under par, and Woods had just given up a one-stroke lead by lipping out a 10-foot par putt on 17. An hour later a baffled Els sat in a chair with his hands behind his head -- a brilliant runner-up. He said, "Winning seems to be a habit with Tiger right now." For some time now, to be more accurate. Last Saturday night, in a ballroom at the Kapalua Ritz-Carlton, the Tour presented Woods statuettes of Arnold Palmer, Byron Nelson and Jack Nicklaus. The Palmer trophy goes to the Tour's leading money winner (Woods won an astonishing $6.6 million in 1999, almost $3 million more than runner-up David Duval). The Nelson goes to the player with the lowest adjusted scoring average (Tiger's was a record-low 68.43 in '99). The Nicklaus goes to the player of the year (Woods won the vote of his peers for the second time in three years). Looking elegant in a dark suit and gray tie, Woods made some gracious remarks, posed for photographs and then left. He was in bed by 11. It would encourage the other players to see Woods slip his self-imposed leash. Duval, who finished third at Kapalua, arrived on Maui looking as if a stonecutter had carved him new glutes and abs for Christmas. "Hey," Duval said, "if you want to beat Tiger, you have to get better." Els, the preternaturally relaxed South African with two U.S. Open titles on his résumé, trailed Woods by four after two rounds. Asked if he thought he could still win, Els laughed and correctly predicted, "It all depends on what Tiger does." These days Tiger does whatever it takes to sustain his success. He hasn't given up video games, and he's still coltish enough to start an on-the-course snowball fight with a rival, as he did on Jan. 2 with Sergio Garcia. But in December, in what's now an annual practice, Woods went with his mother to a Buddhist temple in Los Angeles, where he meditated. ("I observe everything but know nothing," he said in a pre-Christmas phone call to a reporter, sounding eerily like David Carradine in an old Kung Fu episode.) His favorite word is balance, which he's always seeking, but it could just as well be paradox. His work ethic and passion for technical analysis are thoroughly Western, yet he sees himself more as a Zen master. "I don't think about things that much," he says. "I watch, I absorb and then I follow instinct." Opposed to this almost feral mind-set is Tiger's acute sense of his place in history. After he appeared as a presenter at the Sports Illustrated 20th Century Sports Awards in New York City in December, Woods stood with Muhammad Ali, Michael Jordan and 16 other sports icons as they posed for a centennial photo. Woods calls it "one of the greatest moments in sports history," but he adds, "I personally felt uncomfortable. I didn't think my accomplishments should have had me in there yet." His colleagues would disagree. "He's the next Michael Jordan," Loren Roberts said at Kapalua. "He's got that stratospheric, famous-around-the-world persona." Woods continues to amaze and thrill. On Friday at Kapalua, in the vigorous trade wind that buffeted Maui for most of the tournament, he hit a tee shot on the 373-yard 12th hole that rolled past a startled Jim Furyk, who was putting out, and off the back of the green. On Saturday, when his game looked less solid, Woods tied Els for the third-round lead -- and practiced for the finish -- by eagling the 663-yard 18th hole. But it was Tiger's play on Sunday that showed why the comparisons to Jordan are apt. On the final hole Woods hit a brilliant three-wood from the sloping fairway, and his ball rolled to 18 feet, sending the grandstand crowd into a frenzy. Els then hit a two-iron to 12 feet, blowing minds. Tiger putted first, holing out for eagle and arm-pumping his way across the green. Els answered by rolling in his own eagle putt, forcing the playoff. They then played 18 again, Els making an easy two-putt birdie. This time Woods had to hole a testy 10-footer to stay alive -- which he did, of course, sending giddy spectators racing in all directions looking for the next playoff hole. It finally ended at sunset on the low-altitude 1st green, where Woods made an uphill, sidegrain 35-footer that Els couldn't match. "He's 24," Els said. "He's probably going to be bigger than Elvis when he's in his 40s." Later, Woods slipped on the winner's jacket (a $3,200 silk number by Brioni), acknowledged his $522,000 first-prize check and jetted off with his girlfriend, 22-year-old Joanna Jagoda, to spend a couple of lazy weeks at home. He won't try to extend his winning streak until later this month, when he's expected to play in the Phoenix Open. "The hardest thing to maintain in my life is balance," Woods said in the previous century. "You have to make time for certain things." Clearly he has found that balance, but could something cause him to lose it? Say, a surfeit of money? A diminished will to win? A renewal of Tigermania? His answer: "No. I have too much pride to let that happen." As for the winning streak, Tiger pointed out before he left Hawaii that his five-tournament burst was still only belt-high to Nelson's 11. Furthermore, Nelson got all his wins in one calendar year. Tiger, betwixt his August 1999 victory in the NEC Invitational and his win at Kapalua, traveled to three continents, had eye surgery, helped win a Ryder Cup for the U.S., went Christmas shopping at a mall, played exhibitions, won a lot of silly-season money and finished 10th in the Williams World Challenge, an unofficial tournament he hosted the week before the Mercedes. "That was last year," Woods said of victories one through four. "This is a whole new year." Maybe so. But in Maui it still looked like the Year of the Tiger. Issue date: January 17,
2000
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