Let me put it this way: It’s not like he was being tackled as he hit the little white ball into the hole in the ground.
So, please, spare me the fist pumps and all the other histrionics. He may very well be a phenomenal, even a freak of a golfer. I’ll grant him that. He’s proven over these many years, since emerging as a prodigy, then dominating his field and his era so thoroughly, that he’s one of a kind. What exactly, I cannot say.
On top of that, he’s a very graceful and gentlemanly human being (at least appears to be; he probably kicks cats and dogs when no one is there to notice it).
What Mr. Woods is not is an athlete. And no amount of fist pumps and rebel yells will change that. I’m sorry to say this but a ping pong player is more of an athlete than Tiger will ever be.
Even rhythmic gymnastics and whatever abomination they conjure up at the Winter Olympics require more athletic ability than anything these layabouts do on a golf course. I also hate all the chemicals they put into the ground to get the grass to look so green. And I hate all that wasted space.
Having said all that, let me give Tiger Woods credit for one thing: the wardrobe. He has single-handedly changed the hideous style of dressing by men on the golf course. For that, and that alone, one can be thankful!
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