When passing the Masters, the only reward for Tiger Woods is to endure more

AUGUSTA, Ga. — tiger forest was the first golfer to arrive on the course on Saturday morning, half an hour before sunrise, and he walked alone to the pitch-black training ground. He laughs and he grimaces and he works. With eight holes left to play for the second round delayed, he was right on the cutting line. He hasn’t missed a single cut in the past 22 Masters, one of the last remaining marks from his now-disappeared days of dominance. When it was over, he stood in the pouring rain and asked a few questions.

He laughs at himself. He didn’t seem angry.

Someone asked him what happened on his last hole.

“I hit it in the first place,” he said and walked away.

He is over 3 years old. The cut line is 2 on. He could only wait and watch. He did all he could: wake up early, train his body until it was almost like work, get in front of all the young millionaires so he wouldn’t miss a chance. He needs Justin Thomas or Sungjae Im bogey at least one hole for the cut to turn to 3.

It’s funny what a sport can reveal. Yesterday, there was a 23-year-old amateur named Sam Bennett who walked into the press room, with all his confidence and ambition, four shots from the leader and spoke as if he could take it all. He is a joy to look at. He called the Butler’s Cabin of the Crow’s Nest, and didn’t recognize the name Ken Venturi, and it seemed he had never heard of Bobby Jones until a dinner earlier in the week. When people ask him what he plans to do, he says that he and all his college friends are probably going to the party. I feel that’s a polite way of saying: crush some Bud Lamps, maybe burn some stuff. Sammy Golf. House Money Walking.

“I have a golf tournament that I can enter and win,” he said.

Bennett was born the year Woods won the 1999 PGA Championship, and he finished the first two rounds of the Masters by 11 strokes better than Woods.

“Hard work done,” he said.

It’s clear that he really believes in it.

Youth is a remarkably powerful force. But so is aging. There’s a poem by Dylan Thomas about the conflict between youth and time that I’ve been thinking about, with the image of a lone successful Woods still gritting his teeth as if someone could take away many of his accomplishments. Oh, when I was young and easily dependent on his means, time kept me green and dead though I sang in my chains like the sea. That’s it. Sang in my shackles.

He knows things about glory, pain, and determination that only time can teach the strong young Bennett, as it taught Tiger, as it taught Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer, and Ben Hogan. , as it taught me and you. I wrote this thread six times in a row watching Tiger Woods play Augusta because it’s the only story now. He is a walking circle of life. The only true path is suffering. Swing a car before dawn. Leaning over a putt in the rain. Going limp to try again from the beginning.

Of course, the only reward is more suffering.

Tiger got his wish.

Thomas bogged down two holes when he got home, missed his own cut, and he looked up at the rain and shook his head, big enough to know the game’s brutality was a metaphor for life. The third round is expected to start in a few hours, the temperature drops, the rain falls steadily. The fan slipped and fell in the mud. The winner of this Masters game will win his title, coat and money.

Now, Tiger has passed 23 times in a row. It seems like he’s always on a deeply personal quest, and while he’s entertained by Nicklaus’ 18-specialty chase, there’s something else driving him inside. That fuel has yet to be seen. A mystery. He took every opportunity to save himself from the physical pain of just golfing and the emotional pain of knowing he could never play golf well again. Yet he’s still here in the rain.

It’s unclear what the rest of the season or his career will look like but he has two more rounds to play at Augusta National. Nothing about what he has done in every event since his car crash comes easy. He works harder than his younger competitors to be half the player he used to be, and instead of complaining or whining about that decline, he goes to the golf course first and starts work.

Time keeps me green and dead though I sing in my chains like the sea.