Throughout the past year and a half's most precipitous fall from grace any athlete has ever endured, Tiger Woods suffered the deserved slings and arrows associated with his scruples-deficient personal life. But one thing you could never call him was the person who just played a round of golf so pitiful he would not have a decent shot at winning even your local country club's weekend tournament. Until now.
The once unanimously worshipped as the world's best golfer ever has hit rock bottom. Slithering off to the parking lot of a major championship with failing to have even made the cut necessary to continue competing through the weekend, Tiger is no longer anything but the curious case of exhausted talent apparently incapable of ever winning ANY tournament again, much less a major championship.
Experts in the field of psychiatry, therapy, and psychology speak of the prerequisite to hit rock bottom before one can return to a level of greatness associated with the ultimate superiority and domination. But without the desire and commitment to do what is necessary to improve in the first place, rock bottom can in the end be nothing more than an uncomfortable surface upon which to rest in perpetuity, diminished by the luxury of millions of dollars to buffer the otherwise jagged edges of discomfort.
The question is no longer if Tiger is where he needs to be to finally mount a comeback, but if he has what it takes to ignore the comfort of his failure and instead court the pain of exertion and effort necessary to once again be the best there ever was.
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