Masters 4th Round Gamer
By Bill Fields
(start)
You could see Tiger Woods in a Kroger on the outskirts of Augusta, Ga., this Sunday morning, a life-size cardboard cutout of the man touting an energy drink, a product whose logo is on his golf bag. There was a similar display at the Circle K, and no doubt other stores in the proximity of the Masters. Faux Tiger’s shirt is red, his color of victory. You could also Woods on the Augusta National practice range, said bag and his teenage son beside him, warming up for his final-round starting time of 9:35 a.m. He is in the third pairing out, which would have been as rare as an eclipse in his prime, but on Saturday he shot an 82, which gets a golfer on the first tee closer to breakfast than lunch anywhere on tour, even where he has won five times. Real Tiger’s shirt is red, too. But he teed off 18 strokes behind leader Scottie Scheffler, the hue more memory than magic.
Maybe, though, given that he is 48 years old with a body he has put through hell, getting to play on a Sunday in April is a win even for a man who used to speak with disdain for anything less than first. It was a triumph of sorts for him to play well enough, particularly in Friday’s high, gusty winds, to make the cut, his 24th consecutive at the Masters, the most in a row by anyone. By the fourth hole Saturday, though, the wonderful driving and impressive par saves had given way to mistakes and double bogeys and a first-nine 42. He has hardly competed for a couple of years. His body is creaky, his game is rusty. Sunday was going to be warmer, mid-80s, the way it was when Big Jack ran the table in 1986. Woods had that kind of day five years ago, before the wrecked his car and devastated his right leg and foot.
Woods’ Saturday performance wasn’t pretty, but plenty of golf by legends in long autumns isn’t pretty. Bobby Jones was the rare exception, retiring from competition when he was 28 after winning the Grand Slam. Most stars keep playing. It is their choice, not ours. We forget about the ordinary or poor rounds and hope for better. Occasionally, brilliance isn’t just flashed but sustained. No one knows whether Woods’ post-spinal fusion, post-car crash, nearly 50-year-old self is capable of anything but moments. Tenacity alone will not be the ticket.
In contrast to Woods, a man exactly half his age, Ludvig Aberg of Sweden, on Saturday played himself into position for a shot at something very rare: a Masters victory on his first appearance, last achieved by Fuzzy Zoeller in 1979. This isn’t only Aberg’s first Masters but his first major championship—he was part of the winning European Ryder Cup team last fall. Only three men since 1900 have won their first major: Francis Ouimet (1913 U.S. Open), BenCurtis (2003 Open Championship), Keegan Bradley (2011 PGA Championship). Zoeller had played in five majors prior to earning a green jacket. Gene Sarazen was a veteran of 35 majors before he won the 1935 Masters on his first trip, and Horton Smith was a multiple winner on tour before he won in 1934, when Augusta National was new to everybody.
Aberg will tee off Sunday afternoon three strokes behind 54-hole leader Scottie Scheffler, with Collin Morikawa and Max Homa between him and the World No. 1. Recent history, and Scheffler’s recent form, doesn’t portend a green jacket today for Aberg. Since 2014, the Masters champion has come out of the final pairing every year except 2016, when Englishman Danny Willett shot 67 to win. Good play can override history, and Aberg is a beautiful golfer. He will stride up the hill to the 18th green late this afternoon hours after Woods was scheduled to trudge up the same turf.
Those uphill 465 yards are like golf itself. It’s a steep climb—to get there, stay there, return there. Woods knows about all three. Aberg is finding out.