He started the final round one shot behind and was tied for the lead on the 2nd tee, natch. He had the lead to himself by the 5th. This thing was as over as Menudo. Give Tiger a Sunday lead and he ain't givin' it back.
But this wasn't that Tiger Woods. He bogeyed 6 and then 10 and never sniffed the lead again. The winner—coming soon to a trivia contest near you—was somebody named Zach Johnson, who wound up stealing the tournament from two groups ahead.
Say it out loud: Zach Johnson came from behind to beat Tiger Woods out of a Masters. Sort of like: Lyle Lovett got Julia Roberts to marry him.
"Every giant's got to fall at some point, I guess," chirped the Bible-toting Johnson. "I feel like David."
I still want an inquiry. That couldn't have been the real Tiger Woods out there. Tiger makes every crucial putt. This guy was putting like an anvil salesman, missing crucial ones on 10, 12, 14 and 16. My Lord, on 12, he left his birdie try five feet short! I thought I'd see John Daly enter Harvard before I ever saw Tiger leave a big birdie putt short.
The real Woods has the luck of a Vegas altar boy. Not this heathen. On Friday, at the 13th tee, a bird distracted him, causing him to check his 130-mph swing six inches from the ball. "I felt like I broke my back, my wrist, my neck and my legs," he moaned. On Sunday, he actually did break something—his four-iron, after wrapping it around a tree on 11. Normally, Nike would've airlifted in a new one by 13, but no replacement ever came. See? Imposter!
The real Woods is golf's greatest finisher, right? This schmo kept limping home like a gut-shot moose, bogeying both 17 and 18 in rounds 1 and 3. "That's where I blew this tournament," the bogus bogeyer said afterward.
But if that was the real Tiger Woods, then we might have a new ball game on Tour. "It was kind of good to see him give it up a little, wasn't it?" said 10th-place finisher Vaughn Taylor. "It's good to know we have a little bit of a chance against him."
It wasn't so much good as bizarre, like Sunday at St. Peter's with no pope in the window. There was no Tida hug. No awkward Tiger-Phil hideous sport coat exchange. No that's-one-more-major-closer-to-Nicklaus graphic.
"It was bound to happen," said Justin Rose, who finished fifth. "You can't go an entire career and not give it up once in a while."