The Year of Living Dangerously

Woods opened up more in conversations with friends, with an emphasis on listening.
Photo By Walter Iooss Jr.

After the British Open, where Woods tied for 12th at Carnoustie in a week in which his mood was particularly dark, it appeared the year that had begun with so much promise would be a washout in the category that matters most: the majors.

As always with Woods, theories abounded. Some wondered if his obligations as a course designer were a burden. Lackluster play at the Memorial was blamed on a Wednesday arrival caused by attending the press conference announcing that he would be the host of the newly created AT&T National.

Many observers believed that Woods had grown wearier than ever of the constant scrutiny and criticism that accompanies his station. "I get no fulfillment from fame," he says. "I'd much rather have anonymity but still go out and kick everybody's butt. That would be fun. As long as everyone I competed against knew I beat them, and for me to know as well -- that would be enough."

And most intriguing, the new demands of fatherhood. Though eyebrows were raised when Woods didn't travel to Sweden in October to be with his wife and in-laws for Sam's christening (instead, he attended a fund-raiser for his foundation in California), Woods often spoke of his new duties with warmth and humor. "When she wakes up at 2 a.m., I get on the leg-press machine and put her on my lap," he says. "Six hundred reps later, she's out."

But all roads led back to Earl. Haney and others noticed that with increasing frequency Woods cited lessons learned from his father, sometimes adding, "The older I get, the smarter Dad has gotten."

At his Florida outing, when asked who would make up his ideal foursome, Woods' answer was all about longing. "Very simple: It would be a twosome. Just me and my dad," he said. "I wish I could go back and play like we used to play." Woods then told how, to circumvent the Navy Golf Course's minimum-age limit, at age 8 he would carry his clubs through a ditch that bordered the first two holes and meet his father on the third tee. "After nine holes it would be almost dark, and my dad would say, 'If you lose your golf ball, you've got to quit.' So now I've got to call my shot. So I'd call draw, but I'd feel it was a pull/cut. We'd drive down there, and there it would be. We'd play like that until I lost my ball. It really taught you how your swing felt, how to correct it, what impact felt like.

"We used to really compete, and he never let up on me, and I never let up on him. My dad served in the special forces, where if you don't have competitive desire, you die."

EMULATING THE MILITARY MAN
That was just one of many military references Woods made in 2007. More than once, the man whose namesake, Col. (Tiger) Phong, was a battlefield cohort of Earl's, mused that if he hadn't become a golfer, he would have been a soldier. What made his connection to the AT&T National appealing is that it's played in the nation's capital the week of the Fourth of July with active military personnel able to attend for free.

"For as long as I've known him, Tiger's had a huge interest in the military," says Williams. "He always read a lot of military books and watched war documentaries on The History Channel and liked military movies. And when Earl passed away, maybe Tiger thought it was a good thing to indulge in a bit more of what Earl went through."

Woods' initial foray into the soldier's life came in 2004 at a four-day session of skydiving and other combat drills at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, where Earl Woods had undergone training before and after tours in Vietnam. This year, more than ever, Woods incorporated hardcore Navy SEAL-style training exercises, like running with a weighted vest, as a regular part of his two-a-days at home. It exceeded the regimen devised by longtime trainer Keith Kleven, who has endeavored to allow Woods the increased intensity while adapting his program to safeguard against injury.

"He checks in with me every week," says Kleven. "He always wants to keep pushing himself, but he's also been listening to my advice."

"We all have our sports activities outside of golf," adds Williams, whose passion is racing stock cars. "I don't think Tiger would do something to hinder his performance in golf."

Emulating a late father is often a powerful force, according to Neil Chethik, author of FatherLoss: How Sons of All Ages Come to Terms with the Deaths of Their Dads. Chethik surveyed more than 300 sons and cited famous examples such as Jordan, who was drawn to a baseball career in part because his father loved the sport and had a wish that Michael play the game professionally.

"Men, especially those who had close relationships, tend to do things that connect them to the memory of their fathers," says Chethik. "They wear their father's old clothes, use their old tools, read their favorite books, listen to their music. It's the natural coping process. A son used to have this man to lean on. Part of the grieving is integrating his father inside himself, so he can still be with him. What Tiger appears to be going through is a healthy process that usually begins to wane in intensity after about 18 months."

Woods seemed to reach resolution in the two weeks after Carnoustie. In that period he spoke with several friends, with an emphasis on listening. "Tiger absorbs and applies better than anyone I've ever met," says his agent, Mark Steinberg. By the time Woods arrived at Firestone for the WGC Bridgestone Invitational, something was different. After an eight-stroke victory, he offered a cryptic explanation: "Yeah, I got more organized."