Now, I don't particularly enjoy watching golf, but when Tiger's in the mix for a Major Championship it's become scheduled viewing. This Sunday, he entered the round at -3, good enough for a one stroke lead. Over the span of 17 holes, he went on to lose the lead in the first two holes, tie, regain the lead, tie again, and lose the lead (to a very likable guy by the way: Rocco Mediate). And with Rocco in the clubhouse with a one stroke lead, Tiger stepped up to a do-or-die 10-foot birdie putt on the 18th green. Definitely not a sure thing. Not this weekend, what with Tiger on a bad wheel and as a result never tapping into that rhythm. The anticipation, the build up, the putt, and the payoff. Remarkable. Grown men sitting silently in bleachers watching another grown man analyze the subtle breaks on a patch of grass. And then they explode. It happened. He went crazy. I went crazy. Double fist pumps. Wow. I don't know but I love it.
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