A strange twist of fate

Sporting News, The, July 30, 2001 by Jay Mariotti

Seems golf has a sinister way of humbling the greatest, a gentle way of aiding the maligned and a mysterious way of leaving 15 clubs in a bag when 14 are allowed. It was an odd formula for David Duval to win his first major, and somehow much more entertaining than witnessing Tiger Woods plunder the field again.

What a fascinating change in the landscape, a fickle flip-flop in fate. It's hard to tell what was more surprising, watching Woods fade at the British Open or seeing Duval finish something he started after years of heartache. At last, no longer is Duval the Best Player Never to Win a Major. At last, an elite American golfer has broken through the magnetic force of Woods.

"They spelled it with two L's," kidded Duval, referring to his name on the Claret Jug, wondering if his elusive moment really was happening.

Before anticipating a hot rivalry, though, we should figure out what's wrong with Tiger. Forget the one about Tom Cruise hanging around his house and introducing him to the Hollywood crowd. Also forget the one hinting at a fling with Gabrielle Reece, who pointedly reminded through her publicist that she is happily married. No, the problem with Tiger Woods is Tiger Woods.

Like you, me and the guy down the street, he can't hit a golf ball straight.

Never have we seen him so helpless and human, so vexed and perplexed. If it was inevitable Tiger would fall to earth eventually, who knew he would land with such a graceless plop? At Royal Lytham, he resembled Benny Hill with a wedge, at one point emerging from a thicket of shrubbery and gesturing in a way never thought possible. He shrugged. As in, save me.

"I felt sorry for Tiger," said his fishing pal, Mark O'Meara.

Usually, we find Woods with all the glory and Duval dumfounded in a daze. Across the pond, they traded roles and gave golf a crazy, shagadelic twist. There was Tiger, firing obscenities, throwing clubs and climbing into his jet before the event was over. And there was Duval, nearly swallowed whole by the American media and the Road Hole bunker at St. Andrews last year, shedding years of pressure and psychologists to vanquish his demons.

If and when Woods and Duval are simultaneously in sync, sports and the Tiger phenomenon will be better for it. "When you beat Tiger, it's like the players felt about beating Nicklaus. It feels wonderful," Duval says.

If it was unfair to call Duval a choker, he hardly was a model of steel nerves in majors. Once an attacker, his psyche was wounded by criticism. He tried a radical diet. He altered his look, letting a surfer-wear maker design his wardrobe before returning to more traditional garb. "It's just a matter of putting it all together," he kept insisting.

He kept his vow. Remove the albatross from his back. While you're at it, hand the Jean Van de Velde Dunderhead Award to lan Woosnam's caddy, who didn't notice there was one club too many in the bag and killed the wee Welshman's chances, while indirectly helping Duval.

The lesson is that no man, not even The Great Eldrick, is larger than this maddening game. The news flash should comfort us in a way, recalling how miserably inferior we felt when Tiger was winning four consecutive majors and transcending sport. But just the same, it has felt creepy these last two majors, walking around without Woods in contention. It's one thing to lose to someone on Sunday. It's another to beat yourself on Thursday.

"This game is very fickle. It's not easy," says Woods. "I understand the struggle more than most because I have won. It does make me appreciate what I did because the game is harder than people think."

A crisis, this is not. But do consider it a new crossroads for Tiger. For now, he has lost his game, his way and his temper. Might he be stoked by a fresh challenge? Wasn't he growing bored winning every time?

"I understand the ebb and flow," he says. "People make too much of it when you're playing well and too much of it when you're not. It's just the way it is."

They call it golf.

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Chet Coppock

On the Indians' John Rocker:

"Who cares about John Rocker's traveling freak show? The only guy bleeding right now is (G.M.) John Hart. Hart was crazy enough to think that baseball's premier infant was going to find religion at the Jake. Rocker ain't Billy Graham; he's always going to be Black Sabbath."

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Jay Mariotti

On Chris Webber re-signing with the Kings:

"The way the whole deal (luxury tax) was set up in the NBA, Chris Webber can sign for $123 million in Sacramento. He couldn't have done that in Indiana, Detroit or anywhere else."'

Jay Mariotti is the host of a show for Sporting News Radio and is a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times. Listen to his show weekdays from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (Eastern). To find an affiliate near you, e-mail affiliates@sportingnews.com, or listen live online at www.sporting.news.com.