AUGUSTA, Ga. — He’s back, and golf is scared.
When they tee it up at the Masters, nobody out here has the, um, game to look in the eye of Tiger.
At the most prestigious golf tournament in the world, there is only one true master.
Tiger Woods rules.
And then there are 95 other mere mortals named Phil, Paddy and Sergio shaking in their spikes, praying not to get eaten alive as they go through Amen Corner.
The most dominating, intimidating athlete in the world was asked if, after knee surgery kept him away from this game for nine months, he still expected to win the Masters.
“Always,” Woods said Tuesday.
And then Woods smiled, because a real Tiger does not need to roar to make the hair on the back of a competitor’s neck tingle with trepidation.
In the silence that followed his simple, one-word answer, you could hear hearts break, dreams die and egos shrink, because without a trace of bravado, Woods declared if he smacks drives and sinks putts to his unbeatable standards, then Phil Mickelson, Paddy Harrington and Sergio Garcia are playing for second place.
“Sorry,” Woods said.
Golf is the ultimate mind game.
And this sport has a crisis of confidence.
Not to suggest the millionaires who roll down Magnolia Lane this week are spineless, but nobody really wants a piece of Tiger.
Any golfer who pretends otherwise is either a liar or a fool.
“You know coming down the last few holes (Woods) is not going to go away, and he is going to do good stuff the closer you get to the end. That’s the intimidating thing. You know if you let him have a chance, he is going to beat you,” said Geoff Ogilvy, who might be the fourth-ranked golfer on the planet, but obviously knows he doesn’t inhabit the same galaxy as Tiger.
We have been witness to the Lord-help-me snarl of boxer Sonny Liston, the courage-withering sight of Jim Brown carrying a football and those bloody-good hat tricks of a goal, an assist and a fight by Gordie Howe.
But nothing we’ve seen from any athlete in the past 50 years matches the intimidation factor of Woods pumping his fist as if it were a sword to the gut after he sinks a 12-foot birdie putt, as Tiger did again at the end of March to win a PGA Tour event on the final hole in yet another rock-star moment.
Aging star Greg Norman might sniff that Woods has only one or two legitimate competitors, while back in his day there were a dozen players who could win on any given Sunday. It’s the lament of every graying hero looking for a rocking chair on the porch.
“I would say I can’t be a rival, because in the end I’m always fighting with myself,” said Harrington, who last year finished atop the leader board of the British Open and PGA Championship.
“So I don’t believe in trying to compete against one individual.”
Guess that’s why golfers pretend to play the course, even if they know full well the biggest hazard out there is Tiger.
Although Bill Russell took home all the championship hardware to Boston, some fans were convinced Wilt Chamberlain was more dominating on the basketball court. For all the Olympic gold medals won by Carl Lewis, there always seemed to be somebody else in the race. Even Muhammad Ali had to shout “I’m the greatest!” to make the world listen.
Our search for the next Michael Jordan? It has ended on a golf course. Be like Mike? Tiger is more essential than Air. If Woods could win the U.S. Open in 2008 on one leg, what chance does anybody have now that he is healthy?
A year ago, the buzz at the Masters was whether Woods could win the Grand Slam. Would it be unfair to revisit the topic? He craves more than a green jacket as a reward for arduous rehabilitation. Tiger is back, stalking history, again certain he could win four major championships in a row.
“Well, I know I can do it,” Woods said, with the same nonchalance as if he were talking about what he might like for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“It’s hard for me to sit here and tell you it can’t be done, because I’ve done it before. It’s just a matter of winning the right four at the right time.”
If any other athlete in the world spoke with such unveiled confidence, competitors and spectators alike would accuse him of crazy narcissism or dangerous self-delusion.
But he’s Tiger.
And you’re not.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com
