Tiger talks of a great past and doubtful future
PACIFIC PALISADES, Calif. — He was sitting behind a table instead of standing on a tee, but wherever Tiger Woods finds a place any tournament belongs to him, especially the one where he first had the chance to play against the game’s top players — before he would become the game’s best.
It’s called the Genesis Invitational now. Before, it was the Nissan Open. But we know it as the Los Angeles Open, at historic Riviera Country Club, where the stars hung out, Ben Hogan dominated and in 1992 a teenage Tiger made his pro debut.
Woods now is the host, ironically for an event on a course where he never won but where his presence as both spokesman and hero perhaps carries as much significance as any of his 82 Tour victories.
A year ago, Woods drove off a curving road maybe 20 miles from Riviera. As he reminded Tuesday, “I’m lucky I’m alive.” He had his right foot reattached, underwent months of rehabilitation, eventually was able to play with son Charlie in the PNC Father-Son tournament and at age 46 remains uncertain about his future.
Among his tasks here were to create the attention impossible for anyone else in golf. The room in the old Spanish clubhouse used as the media headquarters suddenly filled to overflowing when Woods walked in on Wednesday, first to introduce pro Adam Beverly — a college star at Sacramento State — as recipient of the Charlie Sifford Memorial exemption.
Woods recalled the difficulty he faced when at age 16 he was in the big time, and no less pertinently mused about his chances in April of playing the Masters Par-3 tournament (possible) and the Masters itself (doubtful).
“I wish I could tell you when I'm playing again,” said Woods. “I want to know, but I don't. My golf activity has been very limited. I can chip and putt really well and hit short irons very well, but I haven't done any long stuff seriously.
“I'm still working. Like at the PNC, I'm still working on the walking part. My foot was a little messed up there about a year ago, so the walking part is something that I'm still working on, working on strength and development in that. It takes time. What's frustrating is it's not at my timetable.”
There has been progress since the father-son. He is stronger, able to hit more balls.
“But as I was alluding to at the PNC, I was in a cart,” he said. “I can play weekend warrior golf, that's easy. But to be able to be out here and play, call it six rounds of golf, a practice round, pro-am, four competitive days, it's the cumulative effect of all that.
“I'm not able to do that yet. I'm still working on getting to that point.”
He is more realistic than pessimistic. He came to grips with the situation lying in a hospital bed. There is just possibility or impossibility.
The opportunity to discuss the Sifford award, presented annually to one of the country’s top minority golfers, brings Tiger back to an earlier time.
The PGA of America (which controlled tournament golf before the PGA Tour was formed in 1968) had a Caucasian-only clause in its by-laws. Charlie Sifford and other African Americans were not allowed to play. A threat by California attorney general Stanley Mosk to ban any tournament from the state forced the PGA to eliminate the clause.
When Sifford won the L.A. Open in 1961, at Rancho Park, he sent Mosk a telegram of appreciation. Tiger Woods, with a Black father and Asian mother, was well-schooled in ethnic discrimination.
“Charlie was the grandfather I never had,” said Tiger. “To me, he was Grandpa Charlie. I would see him at Firestone every year. I was telling Aaron over here that I would get these yellow texts in my locker every time I had a chance to win a tournament and I'll summarize it by saying ‘go out and win.’”
What Tiger told Adam Beverly was that playing in a Tour event for the first time would be both intimidating and thrilling.
“It was like going from playing JV baseball to all of a sudden facing — you're going to be on the bump against Nolan Ryan. That's how big a jump that felt like.”
Big or small, the jump ended beautifully.