My absolute favourite thing is the Skratch video featuring DJ Steve Porter, Can’t Call it a Comeback. It was the soundtrack to Tiger’s first comeback in 2017. That of the look- away now ch-yips.
The most concerning thing about this is that most of our editorial team is too young to remember.
I can accept they were not there for Tiger’s pomp, or his US Open on one leg, or his slam, but they are too young to remember his first comeback?! Really.
It was almost seven years ago, that is how long we have been living this. This then, like Stone Roses comeback tours, is a middle-aged affliction.
The pattern is now well set. Makes a comeback, varying degrees of success, anywhere between wins major and WD hurt. Disaster occurs.
Disappears to have something fused and unspeakable rehab, often accompanied by personal embarrassment.
Cycle starts again. Stages include: Swing vids emerge. Internet loses mind. Announcement of comeback date: Internet loses mind. Videos of grinding on range: mandatory analysis of Tiger 6.0 from all Twitter pros.
Arrives at venue (typically Hero Challenge): Tiger come back old timers ask, ‘how is he walking?’ Press conference: Can you win again? Yes. Obvs. Internet loses mind. What is he wearing on his feet, who is his caddie, and what is his schedule?
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Every shot of the tepid first round. Henni tells us again how hard it has been for him. Nick is open-mouthed at his driving. JT is just happy to walk with him. Rusty chips, putting not what it was, long game is still there etc etc.
We know the drill.
Yet we are not tired of it. Why?
You will never be able to show your face in there again. If you are a middle-aged man you have heard and feared these words.
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The dinner party when you offended the host, the lads’ night out when you were asked to leave. The deal you lost at work. The job you didn’t get. The promotion that never came. Setbacks. Embarrassments.
That knee injury you got 20 years ago. Yeah, that one, the one that stops you from playing five-a-side. No attempt whatsoever is made to come back from this.
What that knee injury represents is an excuse, a reason you are three stone overweight, a reason you no longer play in the Thursday game and when you are really stretching it explaining why that trial at Grimsby came to nothing. Excuses.
You have nothing left to prove, though. You are happy, you have got a 4×4, a house, mates at the golf club, a job you can do in your sleep. The fire is out. Enough.
These things you are embarrassed about. These setbacks you have encountered. These things you have settled for. It is 1% of what he has been through, and he has never settled. No matter how far he has fallen.
Try getting caught in a scandal with the world watching. Try your relationship with your dad being analysed by every pseud with a pen. Try winning all the things. Try nearly dying and being rebuilt from the ankle up.
And yet still having the stomach for it, still wanting to get out there, still wanting to mix it, still wanting to be at the front of everything.
This is the resilience we know life requires. That we are forced to demonstrate as we age. But we need reminding, we need to be shown that there is always a way.
These are balls bigger than mine, bigger than yours. He is an inspiration.
That is why Tiger comebacks still matter.
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It is not about his golf. Or his trousers.
It is about him showing that no matter what you have achieved, there is always more and no matter how bad it has gotten, there is always a way back.
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