On Tiger Woods’ British Open ordeal: Liat Al Samarrai explains why Colin Montgomerie’s criticism was justified and why the cheated golf legend committed a cruel act to humiliate him
At Pinehurst, he doesn’t seem to like a single shot and I think, “What on earth is he doing?” He’ll come to Troon but he won’t like it there either. Every athlete has a time to say goodbye, but it’s very hard to say goodbye to Tiger. Obviously, he still feels he can win. We are more realistic.’ Colin Montgomerie, July 2024
I followed Tiger Woods for a couple of holes on Friday and it’s a peculiar kind of relationship he shares these days with the game he redefined. Love, he would call it a couple of hours later, but it was difficult to understand what he meant by Thrun’s references.
There were a lot of galleries, because this is a given. We would say the same for other golf players. They idolize it, pull it and claws it for its approval, and he enriched them. That’s always been the case.
But what is it about Woods’ love of golf? What about his golf? Of course not. No matter what he says to our faces, this is a dance of tired acquaintanceship: His golf is treating him badly. This gets him teased, and soon he frowns, demands too much, and they walk around in circles, arguing and bickering, this once-so-crazy pair of strangers. I caught a glimpse of it all on the inside nine of his second round, when he was saddened as he slowly made his way up the bank to the 15th tee, 13 over par for the tournament at this point. He had a look that will be all too familiar to us: he was sitting on the ground with swollen eyes, jaw clenched, shoulders hunched, exhausted and hollowed out by some reality. Tiger Woods was seen wandering around Royal Troon looking forlorn after missing the cut at the British Open
Before the tournament, Colin Montgomerie suggested Woods should retire
Montgomerie had given his verdict on Woods’ play, and it was true
A minute earlier, Woods had missed a three-foot putt on the 14th and was in no mood to help the kids. He just wanted to get his driver in the glove, but when he did, he stared down a nasty 500-yard stretch of uneven terrain and sliced deep into the fescue on the right side. Woods sighed, shook his head, and began his hellish gait again.
Love? Not here. Not at this moment. Just take it to the airport and your agent will do the rest.
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But what does love mean to Tiger Woods? This is a question on multiple levels, so let’s keep it within the framework of sports: Is this a fight for small gains? Is this a fear of alternative, parting, or silence that appears more?
Or is it a bit of a knowledge, how do we do all of these, and can one of the good shots be made for a while? Now, at 48 and 70, that’s where he found himself, and that’s why, for a moment, he allowed himself a slight smile as he dug his second shot out of the deep end and into the wind, back to the mound where he’d made the ball roll 10 feet from the cup?
What a shot. What a roar. What magic. There’s nothing like Tiger in golf. And how we all want them to deal with it.
But they don’t, and there’s only one person in the world who believes it’s possible. That being the same man who then missed the putt of Birdie and headed towards the 16th, again passing his hands stretched on his way to miss another major cut of a mile.