Golf: Is Tiger the greatest of all time?

JAMES LAWTON describes the phenomenal impact Tiger Woods has had on his sport and wonders just how much higher he can fly.


As natural as Pele. As tough as Bradman. As pretty as Ali. As clean as Lewis. As prolific as Sampras.

At only 24, Tiger Woods may already be the most phenomenal sportsman of all time

The proposition is stunning, outrageous in its offence against some of the classic definitions of ultimate achievement in any walk of life.

But then genius makes it owns rules, sets its own deadlines, and so no one can dispute the possibility that, at 24, Tiger Woods is already well on the way to proving himself the greatest sportsman who ever lived.

Some, no doubt, will insist the title will always be elusive.

How, they will ask, can you precisely compare the nascent glory of Woods - who last Monday on the Valhalla course in Kentucky became only the second golfer in history to win three major titles in one year - with Muhammad Ali's extraordinary journey into the world's consciousness, or Don Bradman's phenomenal, career-long mastery of the art of batsmanship, or the unchallenged ascendancy of Pele on the football field?

In some ways you can't. No one will ever try to tear off the Tiger's head as he lines up one of those heart-stopping putts - as such ferocious customers as Sonny Liston, Joe Frazier and George Foreman did to Ali.

No one will devise a check on Woods' route to the mountain top that involves a calculated attempt to do him serious injury as the English tourists under Douglas Jardine did to the young Bradman in the notorious bodyline cricket series.

Half a football team will not be designated the role of crippling Woods - as Brazil's rivals did to Pele in the 1966 World Cup.

No, the worst they can do to Woods is make him play to the very limits of his ability and his temperament, as Bob May, a 31-year-old journeyman golfer from Southern California, did so unforgettably at Valhalla.

But then golf will always be a game of the mind as much as the body, and all the available evidence is that, at a remarkably tender age, the Tiger's mind is as tough as tungsten.

It is three years since Woods first invaded the imagination of the sporting world by winning the United States Masters by the shattering margin of 12 strokes and with a record score of 18-under par.

Jack Nicklaus never did anything quite like that, and until this year of Tiger, this annexation of an entire sport by one young, beautifully balanced and phenomenally composed young man, Nicklaus was golf's rock-solid entry for the mythic title of the world's greatest sportsman.

Nicklaus, the Golden Bear of Ohio, defined the best values of the game. He surpassed the power of the beloved Arnie Palmer, who was freely acknowledged as the father of modern golf. He amassed a mountain of major titles - 18 - a mark which everyone said would stand for ever.

Once, on a deserted practice range in Ohio, Nicklaus told me of his agony at the possibility that he was losing his game.

He talked of his pain that his father, who had built braziers on frozen tees and converted the basement of the family house into a driving range against the rigours of the mid-west winter, had died at a time when Jack's golf seemed to be ebbing.

He had only the fireflies for company as he toiled into the night, endlessly hitting the golf ball and cursing: "Goddamit, how can I hit so it so well and yet no longer win a tournament?" That was in 1979.

Seven years later, he won his sixth green jacket at the Masters in Augusta, and just two years ago he made that fabled place of golf stand still with the possibility that he might just win it again.

Such is the man who last weekend in Valhalla, in scenes of high emotion, passed on the torch to his successor.

Nicklaus and Woods played together for the first two days of the PGA tournament, and for golf aficionados there were also moments of unbearable poignancy.

None compared with the moment of Nicklaus's blessing. It came when Woods drilled one of his customised long putts, a thing of snaking beauty and perfect control.

Nicklaus smiled paternally, winked broadly at Woods and gave the thumbs-up sign. No emperor ever surrendered his throne with such grace - or warmth.

"Tiger," said Nicklaus later, "is playing so well it is impossible to imagine he could be doing anything better. He has done everything right. He is in control of everything.

"Conditions change ... and I have to say that, so far, Tiger has yet to be as seriously challenged. But you see him play, you spend a little time in his company, and you have to believe he will be equal to anything that is put before him. He is an amazing young man."



On Monday, America tuned into the phenomenon of Woods, but it would be idle to pretend that a nation still marked by racism did so without ambivalence.

One bar-room joke hints at the shock of seeing a young black man marching through the open doors of America's country club.

"What were you looking at 40 years ago when a bunch of white men were chasing a single black?" Answer: the Ku Klux Klan. "What are looking at today?" Answer: a major golf tournament.

Not the least of Woods's achievements is his effortless handling of the race issue. Two years ago, a fellow pro, former Masters winner Fuzzy Zoeller, made what were considered to be tasteless remarks about the likely menu Woods would decree at the annual champions' dinner at Augusta.

Zoeller mentioned "greens and chitlings," the food of poor blacks.

Woods, who grew up in middle-class Southern California, was offended on the basis that race was irrelevant to his situation.

He demanded, and received, an apology - and moved on, a child not of one section of American society but of the wide sporting world.

Woods's status as the man golf is now obliged to hold up against the titans of other sports is hard to challenge on any point of style or temperament or dedication.

Or statistics. In any straight comparison with the Nicklaus when he was 24, he wins in a canter.

At 24, Nicklaus had tour earnings of $US1.6 million, a figure adjusted for inflation. Woods has won $17 million.

Nicklaus had won three majors; Woods has won five, and four of them by numbing margins.

On the USPGA Tour, Nicklaus had picked up 12 tournament wins; Woods has 21.

Nicklaus had a scoring average of 69.96; Woods is two strokes better at 67.77.

The list is long, and in every category Woods has superior figures, even in their earliest recorded scores over nine holes.

At 10, Nicklaus shot a 51; at three, Woods was three shots better.

Behind these statistics is a will that is already spoken of with awe.

Nick Faldo, by far Britain's most successful modern golfer, with five big victories, provoked some chilly mirth at St Andrews last month, when Woods turned the great tournament into a formal procession: "It is as though Tiger has invented a new game. Am I upset? Not all."

He then threw his golf cap to the ground.

Woods's coach, Butch Harmon, says: "When Tiger spots a weakness in his game he simply works - and I really mean works - on it. His putting is the best example. He has slaved at this putting. You know the scary part? He's only at about 75 per cent of what he's capable of."

It is not only the game that has been changed by Woods. Colin Montgomerie, the pride of Europe for seven years but still pursuing his first major, has slimmed down by 20 pounds.

David Duval, ranked second in the world, has started an exercise and weight-training routine after hearing that the Tiger has added 20lb of muscle.

But they trail in the wake of Woods.

Recently, he reflected on a conversation with the legendary Sam Snead. "Slammin' Sam" told him that in his day, players thought nothing of partying most of the night, then taking a hangover on to the course. Woods replied: "I'm afraid that doesn't work any more."

What works so supremely well is an unparalleled willingness to master every aspect of the game.

Does this make Tiger Woods the greatest sportsman of all time? Can he carry the ground owned by the sublimely gifted and spirited Ali? Can he go along the long road of perfection trod by Bradman? Can he find the sheer competitive stamina which drove Carl Lewis to gold in four Olympics?

Perhaps it is too early to say, maybe there will never be a day when such a claim can be made on behalf of a single sportsman.

But something can be said, as confidently as Woods addresses the golf ball on a tortuous, sloping green with everything to win and lose. It is that no one has ever realised so perfectly, so quickly, all the talent he has been given.

No one has ever wanted it more, or been so willing to explore everything within himself in order to get it. This means he has a chance. One provided by the gods.

- INDEPENDENT