Tuesday, August 15
By Mark Kreidler
Special to ESPN.com
There is a natural temptation when it comes to watching Tiger Woods play golf these days, one that is crying out to be avoided at every possible turn. The temptation is to cease being amazed; and let me just speak for the entire viewing audience when I say: Are you kidding?
|  | | What's not to like: Tiger smiles after winning at Pebble Beach. |
Look, be amazed. Be constantly, endlessly amazed. Don't think about it. Don't gird against it. Give in completely, like the kid you once were, and be utterly, shamelessly, enthusiastically amazed.
You get right down to it, that's the whole point of a Tiger Woods, isn't it?
It's a cynical time in sports. Let me rephrase that: It is a cynical era. It is an epoch of weird vibes and disturbing results, police-blotter caca and luxury-suite hoo-hah. You could be forgiven for indulging your I-don't-trust-94-percent-of-this-dreck routine just about every time you sit down to read the sports section or surf the Net. Heck, ESPN's own anchor crew is trying to gain the U.S. patent on the arched eyebrow.
But Tiger Woods is something else again. If you had to winnow the Woods phenomenon to just a handful of significant developments, surely near the top would be his ability to make people think about nothing but the sport itself, if only for a couple of hours or even a couple of strokes.
It may not sound like much. In truth, depending upon the mood of the day, it could be everything.
With the PGA Championship going off Thursday at Valhalla in Louisville, the stars again are aligned for Woods to do something ridiculously fabulous -- and here's hoping he does. Here's hoping that Woods summons the magic from wherever it is that he gets it, and goes blasting through that Nicklaus-designed course in some absurd record-low number of strokes.
Or, failing that, wins by 15. Or gets in a playoff. Or bounces a drive off the cart path, over the marshall's dome, against one of those walking-chairs that the "real" golf fan might be seen to tote, just past the gopher hole on the left and straight on up to the fringe of the green.
On the 597-yard, par-5 seventh.
You see, it isn't that Woods will ultimately do everything, or even anything; it's that sometimes it feels like he can. Just stirring the pot of possibility is enough. For that alone, Tiger already can rightfully take his place among some of the greatest athletes in American history.
Wow, hyperbole galore, right? Well, maybe. But if people instinctively leaned forward in their seats every time Babe Ruth stepped up to bat, is it really so different from the way that the public perceives any golf tournament -- and especially a major -- that has Tiger Woods in it?
One of the most unintentionally hilarious things that came out of Woods' runaway victory in the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach this summer was the notion, thrown around quite seriously, that Woods' dominance was actually bad for golf. This was an idea born of a very specific kind of logic -- no competition equals no classic matchups, with a resultant long-term decrease in public interest -- and it was deeply, deeply silly stuff.
In practice, Tiger Woods is almost universally good for golf, from the people who organize and play the sport it to the people who slam Steinlagers while watching it. He has drawn more people into the game than any single golfer in its modern annals, and if he keeps on winning, they will keep on coming. The world loves this guy; and why?
Because he leaves them gasping, is why.
There isn't a downside here; don't look for one. Don't waste a minute of your precious time. If it's a cynical story you're looking for, you could throw a dart, hit just about any other professional sport in this country and come up with something to sate your appetite.
But don't burn that energy here, not when you could be spending the same minute in pure, unadulterated amazement instead. Call it a change of pace, and give in. Here in 2000, it is absolutely, positively the only acceptable way to view Tiger Woods.
Scouting around
We now return you to your regular sports programming: Answering a question about the Baseball Hall of Fame, Roger Clemens said that if he is elected into Hall, he will go in as a New York Yankee. What, you mean that foundational time in Toronto counts for nothing?
Already queasy over the way Joe Paterno has waffled and acted uncharacteristically defensive about continuing to play QB Rashard Casey despite pending charges against Casey in the beating of an off-duty police officer, we meet Michael Byrne. Byrne is a Penn State student (read: not an athletic star) who was suspended for one semester for his part in a melee. For what it's worth, here is Byrne's take on the Casey deal: "It's a double standard. It's just because Casey brings in millions of dollars. This whole school is about money. It's ridiculous." For the record: Penn State has yet to initiate disciplinary proceedings regarding Casey.
On the one hand, there can be no question that Ken Griffey Jr.'s landing in Cincinnati has brought with it a level of scrutiny that even the media-savvy Griffey apparently was not prepared for. On the other hand, there can be no question that, had he wanted to, Griffey could have avoided the very scrutiny and pressure he now decries by not playing such a heavy hand with the Seattle Mariners in the first place. And on both hands, one question in this deal really jumps out: How is it possible that Griffey could have been a baseball superstar for this long and still have a skin this thin?
Why people in the NBA miss Charles Barkley, and it has nothing to do with his ability to pull down a rebound: Discussing politics with family members recently, Barkley said he got badly razzed for supporting presidential candidate George W. Bush, whom the family dismissed as a man out to support only the rich. "Then I reminded them, 'Hey, I'm rich,'" Barkley said. Next subject?
Teaser in Tuesday's USA Today: "Fans are changing, so baseball teams broaden game's appeal by adding events like wiener races." And we were going to say something about the NL Central, but we changed our minds.
Mark Kreidler is a columnist for the Sacramento Bee, which has a Web site at http://www.sacbee.com/.
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