
W.W.J.T
What Would Jones Think
I've done the math, I have been able to spend 247 days of my life, here on the grounds at Augusta National, and yesterday was by far one of the oddest and strangest of them all.
There we were, 208 journalists, in line, as if we were boarding a plane, handing in our tickets so that we could find our seat for the most anticipated press conference quite possibly in the history of the game. If it wasn't the most important, it certainly was the most uncomfortable.
Once in the room, we sat, and we sat some more...more than 30 minutes for most of us. It had the feeling of church, as the two or more media committee members acted as ushers showing us to our seats, searching the room looking for any holes, holding up one or two fingers as if we were at a big wedding. Not sure, but I think we were on the bride's side.
Then, moments after 2pm, in a scene not unlike the President's State of the Union, cameramen from the tournament's website assumed their positions in the middle of the aisle. On most occasions, the players enter the interview room from the back, not today's guest, he was coming from the front of the room. The only thing missing was someone bellowing out “Mr. Speaker”.......and then he was there. After five months, one auto accident, a damaged marriage and some rehab, Tiger Woods was in front of the golf media.
I wondered how quickly the questions would move from personal to golf. I don't think they ever did. Thirty-four minutes about the last five months, and the last couple of years. No mention of Torrey Pines, Turnberry, Hazeltine or any of the usual questions we've come to be familiar with. This was a give and take about being changed, PED's, blood spinning, rehab, looking at the fans and being a changed man.
There was a tension in the room, really only out in the open when he was asked if his wife would be attending the tournament, she will not. Not sure if he seemed angry because the question was asked, or because it really did remind him of where he now finds his life.
Then it was over. He quickly left the room. He seemed bigger to me. He seemed heavier to me, and he seemed much sadder to me, in many ways. It was not an easy place to be.
When I returned to my perch here in the media center, there were five messages in my voice mail. Apparently my bald head had made it to national TV....sorry. I heard about it fifteen more times yesterday....everyone picked me out. Good to know if I'm ever somewhere I shouldn't be. Yesterday I was somewhere I never thought I'd be.
Today, hopefully, we're back to golf. That's the way Bob Jones would want it.