Today some of the worst rainstorms of the past decade are pelting the Bay Area. There are floods and mud slides and even a few deaths. Earl and Tida are a little worried, especially because when they give the First Son a call, just to see if he's O.K., there's no answer.
No wonder. Tiger isn't somewhere safe. He is out here, alone, on the 10th hole of the closed Stanford golf course, in the middle of a horizontal wave of rain, his car the only one in the lot, and he is ripping two-irons into the teeth of an Auntie Em wind, getting ready for what he might face at St. Andrews. No coach ordered him here. No parent. No schedule. Hey, you don't get lucky and get this kind of horrible weather every day. Expect the best, prepare for the worst. And as the rain narrows his eyes and the gale wobbles his stance, you can't help noticing that he is smiling, a lifetime of subliminal messages happily at work.