From Robert to Eldrick

Many questions have been asked lately about Tiger Woods' neck injury and subsequent withdrawal from the Players Championship: Was it related to the car accident in November? How long will it take him to recover? Is there a connection to this infamous Dr. Galea? Yet one concern that’s flown a little under the radar during this whole mess is Tiger’s history of problems with his back and neck, particularly related to his swing change in 2003.

As my adoration of Tiger began to take hold at an early age, I vividly remember my dad scoffing at the notion that Tiger would become the greatest golfer of all time. Though he conjured up a variety of reasons to believe this – primarily stemming from his own adoration of Jack Nicklaus – there was one real reason that would hold him back: his swing. “No one can sustain a career with that type of swing,” I’d hear him say. “It puts too much pressure on his spine. He won’t make it 10 years on the PGA Tour.”

Well, clearly that didn’t happen. Clearly Tiger is already widely considered to be the greatest golfer to ever live. But let’s just pose a hypothetical for a second and say that Tiger’s career ended in 2010. Due to residual damage from his old swing, Tiger could no longer put that same physical strain on his body and was forced to retire at the ripe old age of 34. If that were to happen, would he still be considered the greatest golfer of all time?

Of course there’d be arguments on all sides of the debate. I’m not going to stoop down and say what I think – even though it’s probably obvious at this point – but I will share a little piece of history that makes things a little more interesting.

Before TW came along, Jack Nicklaus was unequivocally hailed as the greatest man to pick up a set of sticks. He shattered almost every record in the book, at a time when the competition was as stiff as ever. But what if the Golden Bear really wasn’t the best? What if there was someone who retired early from the game – like my Tiger hypothetical – who had all the same potential? Well low and behold there was someone. And he went by the name of Robert Tyre Jones Jr.

Dutiful golf historians like myself will remember that other than Tiger Woods, Bobby Jones is the only man to hold all four major tournaments at one time (and he did it in a single calendar year). If Tiger somehow doesn’t eclipse Jack’s record of 18 major tournament titles, this may turn out to be a fitting coincidence.¹ Jones unfortunately retired from the game voluntarily at the age of 28 to pursue a law career in Atlanta, but his record of 13 majors stood for more than 40 years after his retirement.²

By all estimations, Tiger likely won’t pull a “Bobby Jones” any time soon. Aside from his prolific talent, Tiger is also the most physically fit and physically determined golfer ever – which means he will essentially force his body to recover in order to demolish every record in golf history.

What the Jones parallel really points to, however, is the over-emphasis we put on records in today’s sports culture. While records are no doubt important and useful, they also don’t always tell the whole story. Worse yet, records can ruin our appreciation and connection with the game itself. Certainly Bobby Jones understood this when he said, "It (championships) is something like a cage. First you are expected to get into it and then you are expected to stay there. But of course, nobody can stay there."

Unfortunately, the attention on Tiger’s recent mishaps all boils down to an expectation. If Tiger weren’t poised to break golf’s most coveted record, he obviously wouldn’t receive half as much attention as he does. The sheer glimmer of possibility that he actually won’t do it makes everyone that much more interested.

Over the years Tiger has made it evident that he cares about nothing more than winning majors. He plays in far less tournaments than the average player and the thought of miss missing U.S. Open is probably eating him up inside. Yet If I were Tiger, I’d probably try to take a page out of the Bobby Jones book and view those championships a little less seriously.

If he starts to have some fun, if he focuses less on titles and numbers and more on the game that he grew up loving, maybe he will reach that peak a little sooner. And who knows? Maybe somewhere along the way he will develop that fleeting human quality he’s never seemed to have – that now more than ever, he desperately seems to need.


¹It makes it all the more coincidental that Jones’ return to golf was halted by a spine condition called syringomyelia, a fluid-filled cavity in his spinal cord that eventually led to his paralysis.
²It makes it all the more coincidental that Jones’ return to golf was halted by a spine condition called syringomyelia, a fluid-filled cavity in his spinal cord that eventually led to his paralysis.