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Tiger Woods is not only the best golfer in the world, turns out he's the luckiest, too. None of that may have been readily apparent to those of you who watched his disappointing effort at the British Open. Sent off as an even-money favorite by the British books and dubbed "unbeatable" by one major American publication, Tiger was not only beatable, but decidedly ordinary as he stumbled around the course to a 25th-place tie with less-than-immortals Bob Estes, Joe Ogilvie and Eduardo Romero.
Tiger fans, which is all of us, got to witness things they have seldom seen in his Game-from bunker woes to double and triple bogies. Woods not only failed to defend his title, he really never mounted a serious challenge to retain the treasured claret jug. And if he had a stroke of luck, a good roll or bounce, I sure didn't see it. While David Duval's balls bounced away from deep rough and skipped past bunkers, Woods paid full measure for every one of his mishits and mistakes.
But if you'll concede me the "best" regardless of what happened at Royal Lytham and St. Annes, I'll explain to you about the luckiest. That will become obvious on Monday when Tiger stages his annual big-bucks, made-for-TV extravaganza-"Battle at Bighorn." This year's gimmick is a mixed-gender affair-an 18-hole showdown, match-play format. It partners Tiger Woods with the second-best woman golfer in the world, Annika Sorenstam. Their opponents are the Tiger's distaff counterpart, Karrie Webb, paired with none other than newly crowned British Open champ David Duval. Now how's that as a ratings booster for Tiger's show?
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Now unless you think Tiger Woods, along with all his otherworldly gifts, is also blessed with second sight, then including Duval in the foursome is surely a remarkably fortuitous choice. And while it may seem like an obvious one after watching Duval on cruise control in his British romp, it was far less so when the match was announced weeks ago. Then all the two men really shared was a profession and a powerful sponsor. And that would hardly have provided much luster if, say, Niclas Fasth had won the British Open. Indeed, since Duval slipped off his perch as No. 1 golfer in the world a couple years back, he simply has been no match for his successor. Last year's British Open revealed what appeared to be a chasm between the two men's games. Paired with Woods for the final round, Duval was simply swamped, finishing 12 strokes back.
Duval's decline over the past couple seasons hasn't really been precipitous. It's been more of a gradual slide from top of the heap to a more subdued stature as one of the tour's many fine players. Once a tournament favorite any time he teed off, Duval, of late, was usually still mentioned, but more as an afterthought: "... and then, of course, David Duval is always dangerous." The conventional wisdom had settled on the notion that Duval was just one more top talent who, off one blistering winning streak, had been propped up, at the very least, prematurely and, more likely, mistakenly as the man who might stand up to Tiger. Duval, of course, has some mighty impressive company among Tiger's putative rivals: Ernie Els turned out to be too laid back; Phil Mickelson too erratic; Sergio Garcia too young and immature, and Lee Westwood, well who's kidding whom? TV commentators and golf writers even stopped calling Duval "the best player never to win a major," handing that less-than-flattering label to Mickelson.
Now Duval, happily, will never be able to reclaim it. But I take Duval's major triumph to signify far more. I believe that our earlier designation of Duval as the one golfer who could emerge as a genuine rival to Tiger was only premature, not erroneous. And I'm convinced that Duval is now, finally, poised to provide the challenge that both Tiger and the PGA desperately need. Tiger needs it to push him to new and even greater heights and to keep him fully engaged in the game as the years take their toll. The PGA needs it to prevent the onset of boredom, an inevitable result if Tiger continues to dominate in singular fashion for too much longer.
Duval has always had all the shots. I visited with him on one occasion, which happened to be at the memorable '99 Bob Hope Classic. But you didn't have to be standing close up to appreciate his dazzling 59 to win the title, a clinic that showed off his complete shot-making package. What he has demonstrated since then is a work ethic and a commitment to the game that brooks comparison to Tiger's. And, as it did in Tiger's case when he totally revamped his swing, it may have required a bit of a slump before he could re-emerge better than before. Duval has worked out diligently with the weights almost as much as with his clubs. Once something of a pudge, he is now leaner and buffer (as well as blonder) than he was when he won 11 tournaments between 1997 and 1999.
What took at least as much work was honing his temperament to the rigors of the PGA tour. It has improved drastically in the decade since he left Georgia Tech. There is, with Duval, the temptation to play amateur shrink. When he was just 9, he was the bone marrow donor for his 12-year-old brother, Brent, who was suffering from the blood disease aplastic anemia. The transplant appeared to be successful, but after complications Brent died. "[David] got very serious after that," said his dad, Bob, a top club pro who has carved out a successful second golfing career on the senior circuit. David was so intense that his college coach at Georgia Tech would drive him separately to matches so as to keep him from distressing his teammates. "He walked on a golf course like he was the only one there," the coach once told me.
In his early years on the tour, some of the folks were quick to dismiss him as hopelessly arrogant, the new jerk on the block. Even today, having won over most of his colleagues, he remains rather aloof, still something of a loner by golf's glad-handing standards. He prefers reading and quiet nights in his room to anything more raucous or more public. And he will never approach Tiger's facile personal style that makes him a sponsor's dream. (Duval, even if he can do the trick, could never look entirely comfortable bouncing a golf ball on a club.) Still, he has made huge concessions and adjustments. He can break the emotional monotone and crack a smile with victory in hand on the 18th. In the winner's circle, he remembers to take off his dark glasses and give viewers a glimpse into those windows on his soul. And he remembers, too, that all credit goes, if not to God, than to his principal sponsor, which here will go unnamed.
Though that may seem relatively meager progress, I suspect it has required a lot of emotional energy and effort for Duval to muster that much of a public-relations front. And it likely has proved a distraction from his true golfing priorities over the past couple seasons. But it may also have been an essential adjustment to keep Duval from being an early burnout casualty. Now he appears a man in total control of both his game and himself. When we chatted a few years back, Duval waxed philosophical about his pursuit of a major title. "Golf can be a fickle game," he said. "To win a major a lot of things have to go your way at exactly the right time." Now they have. So he can afford to be a little fickle, too. Because back then he also said, "I don't feel any rivalry with Tiger." If he truly didn't, it may have been because he couldn't yet afford to; it might have crushed him. Now Duval appears ready to handle whatever comes his way, the estimable Tiger included.
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