Tiger Woods did not have a very good British Open.
He played a defenseless St. Andrews politely, posting 78-75. He knew relatively early Friday that he would not be playing the weekend. He dutifully finished out the round, and his playing partners--U.S. Open champ Matt Fitzpatrick and Max Homa--hung back on 18 to give the legend the chance to cross the Swilcan Bridge alone, to salute the crowd and provide a poignant photo op.
I'm not sure how Woods felt about that; internally he might have bristled the way some of us do when a younger person defers to our seniority. He was gracious, but didn't pause on the bridge for a golden gazing moment. He strode across with purpose as the crowd applauded.
He later admitted that he appreciated the acknowledgment from the crowd and his fellow competitors, but was "a little ticked" he wasn't playing the weekend.
I read some reports about how Woods seems at peace with the reality of his situation, that he's mellowed and is willing to accept his place as one of the game's oldheads. People can say he feels this or that way but it's all just speculation.
Certainly Woods is not ready to submit to ceremonial golf; in his post-round press conference he was adamant that he wasn't ready to retire. But he also sounded like his season was over.
"I have nothing planned," he said. "Zero. Maybe something next year."
Maybe we'll see him at the Hero World Challenge he hosts in November, or PNC Championship in December, playing a hit-and-giggle event alongside his son Charlie. Barring any further setbacks, we'll likely see Woods at Augusta.
And if we don't see him until then? For most casual fans of golf, that will be fine. That's about when they'll check back in too.
A bad showing in a major championship is hardly evidence of fatal decline. Especially on a links course that, were it not recognized as the emotional and historical home of the sport and was located, say, on the outskirts of Searcy, could fairly be regarded as a goat track. Divorce St. Andrews from the romance, and you couldn't charge a $40 green fee.
While it has its devotees, links golf is hardly a fair test of the skills most American golfers' hone; the rub of the green is far more important when you're playing shots along the ground. When Tiger won at St. Andrews in 2000, he famously avoided landing in a single bunker in 72 holes. Last Friday, he was in three of them.
Before the tournament began, much was made of Woods' familiarity with the course, how he knew where to miss and where the bodies were buried. He'd won two Open Championships there.
But if you've ever played any sort of links golf you know to expect the bad bounce, that a good break is an anomaly. And that you can execute perfectly and still have no chance.
There will be days when the course denies you; Woods was hardly the only world-class golfer to miss the cut at the Open. Bond villain Phil Mickelson missed the cut. Brooks Koepka missed the cut. Defending Open champion Colin Morikawa missed the cut.
This isn't Willie Mays misplaying fly balls in the second game of the 1973 World Series. (Better to remember that Mays drove in the go-ahead run with a single in the 12th inning of that game.)
Sure, Woods never used to miss cuts, but he's not that guy anymore. That guy is the best player the game has ever known, so he had a bit of a margin. Now Woods is a broken-down old guy with a fused back who'll probably never completely recover from that 2021 single-car accident that nearly killed him. Apparently the biggest challenge he faces is simply walking 18 holes.
Golf is not like most sports; they tell you it's a game you can play for life. And if you want to ride in a cart and whack a ball around a park, they're pretty much right. From the appropriate tees almost anyone can play the game; even as you lose flexibility and swing speed, golf is still a manageable leisure pursuit.
I just saw a video clip of 86-year-old Gary Player hitting a driver. He's swinging at 86 miles per hour, which means he can still carry the ball a bit of 200 yards and, depending on conditions, wind up with a 230- or 240-yard shot. Which means he can probably still beat your club champion. If you stay reasonably healthy, you can play a form of golf all your life.
But playing competitively is another matter. The only real way to prepare for tournament golf is to play tournament golf; to knock in every three-footer and find and play every foul ball while being scrutinized. (That last part is the hardest thing for some of us. Being watched changes things: We feel eyes on us, we get nervous.)
What Woods can't do is play a lot of tournament golf. His body won't allow it. It won't allow him to practice like he used to, either. Before he can be a competitive golfer again, he's got to be able to walk 18 holes comfortably, day in and day out. But his gait, while still ginger, looks better than it did at Augusta in April, or at the PGA at Tulsa's Southern Hills in May. He's getting better. I know he's said he only intends to play a few events per year from now on, but if he wants it, he could work his way back. Were I interested in wagering, I might put down a little something on his winning again before he turns 50 on Dec. 30, 2025.
I could probably get pretty good odds on that, given that we're just witnessed what seemed to be another benedictory moment on the Roman arch bridge over the Swilcan Burn at St. Andrews. Sam Snead tap-danced across the bridge in 2000; in 2005, Jack Nicklaus bade the Open goodbye from it. Three times--1984, 1990 and 1995--Arnold Palmer tearfully announced his retirement from the sport there.
Woods just walked across it. He says he felt a little tug. But he kept going.
There's no need to rage at the dying of the light. It's not dark yet.
Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected].