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Tiger Woods returned to golf this past weekend.
As I write this I have no idea how he finished in the Masters, one of the game’s four major championships. He had a good first day, a decent second day and made the cut. Damn.
Look, at the risk of being called every vile name in the book – including racist – let me say up front that I’d hoped he would tank.
Because I’m guessing that when all is said and done it’s going to take something far more important to Tiger than having his estranged wife chase him down his driveway with a 9-iron to have him change. Or suffering what, for most of us, would have been shameful public humiliation as the world learned you were not the man you claimed to be.
Golf and golf alone is important to Tiger.
His wife – estranged wife, whatever – wasn’t. His kids weren’t either. Neither was his honor. If Tiger’s performance in the Master’s taught us anything, it’s that Tiger’s more machine than human. A very wealthy machine, but a machine in human skin, nonetheless.
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