Man About Town

Vindication? Apparently. Historic? Obviously. Ironic? What else is new? If you’re going to scale the top half of Mount Nicklaus, you can do no better than to begin the climb at Jack’s final major appearance, which was as emotionally powerful as a man’s third or fourth retirement party could possibly be. “I should stop being a golfer more often because I birdied the last hole,” the Olden Bear cracked Friday evening after rounds of 75-72 were two strokes too many from making it to the weekend. “Actually, as I was coming down the last few holes, I [was] thinking, ‘Man, I don’t want to go through this again. Maybe it’s just as well I miss the cut.’ These [galleries] have been wonderful. They’ve given of themselves, and gave me, a lot more than I deserved.”

Not a chance, Jack. If you’re really, really, really finished competing, then not seeing is believing. And since altered reality is a central theme here, feel free to quit six or seven more times before teeing it up in the 2006 Masters.

By 9 a.m. last Thursday, a line of hundreds had formed three blocks up the street from the Old Course, waiting outside the Royal Bank of Scotland to purchase British currency featuring Nicklaus’ image on the £5 note. Only an 18-time major champion is worthy of impersonating Abraham Lincoln, although Woods ruled this old ballyard with a fist to match that of a leader more familiar to the locals, Winston Churchill. You can’t do much better than to lead the field in driving distance—Woods averaged an unfathomable 341.5 yards per measured poke—and take the fewest amount of putts in the tournament (120). That’s about as close as the statistics get to being unfair, especially at an event where the other two primary stats (driving accuracy and greens in regulation) are basically meaningless.

Ten going on 30: Woods is surprised he got to double-figure majors at age 29.

At a links casino like St. Andrews, you could tee off with a putter and putt with a driver, and nobody would look at you funny. This was as hard and bouncy as any test of premium golf in recent years, and with just enough wind throughout the week to further complicate things, the importance of ball control—especially from 50 yards and in—could not be overstated. “The greenskeeper told us the fairways are rolling just as fast as the greens,” Woods said. “The only difference is the greens are softer, and not by much.”

Such discriminating conditions produced a leader board with absolutely no room for a Cinderella story. Only big names factored at this British Open, bringing the Ben Curtis-Todd Hamilton underdog streak to a resounding end, and there were plenty of marquee players who nibbled at Woods throughout the week. The largest bite came from Colin Montgomerie, the robust Scot who joined Tiger in the final pairing of the third round and would finish alone in second place—by far his best performance in his national championship.

Though still majorless and graying at the temples, old Monty is actually a new Monty. He began Saturday four strokes behind but cut Woods’ lead to one when he stuffed his approach at the par-4 10th. Tiger did his part by knocking his ball into unplayable lies at the sixth and ninth, but Montgomerie remained tenacious all the way to the clubhouse, holing a gnarly 15-footer for birdie at the 18th to grab a share of third with Retief Goosen, three behind Woods, one behind José Maria Olazábal.