The Big Miss: My Years Coaching Tiger Woods (12 page)

Tiger was at his most generous in these situations. When I was having trouble with my game, he’d enjoy the role reversal of helping me. He had a very good eye for someone else’s swing and was excellent at diagnosis, but what was striking was how much effort he’d put into making sure I got what he was saying. “Hit another one,” he’d say after I’d hit a bad one, and then he’d offer some ideas. Then if the next one was better but still not quite there, he’d throw down another ball. He saw the humor in the situation, which might lead to a crack about me needing to bone up on my teaching material, but what I sensed most was that golf was special to Tiger, that a real golfer should always try to do it as well as he could, and that the process of improving was the best part of the game.

Once we got back to his house, things would return to being a little awkward. There were never any substantive life conversations between us, even though I would have welcomed that. I might tell him about my experiences, or even share some problems. He might respond with a general comment like “That’s a tough one” or whatever, but he’d never further the discussion with a question or an insightful comment. At first I thought that kind of communication would evolve, but it never did.

Unless Tiger was working out, which I joined him in doing on occasion, mostly we’d sit on the couch watching a lot of TV, especially sports. In his needling way, Tiger would make sure to root against whichever team I was for, especially Dallas teams, such as the Cowboys, Mavericks, or Rangers. His favorite teams were the Los Angeles Lakers and the Oakland Raiders, although he used to root for the NFL’s Tampa Bay Buccaneers when Jon Gruden was the coach, because Jon and Tiger had become friendly.

Otherwise he liked to watch documentary-style shows on the Military Channel, the History Channel, the Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, or National Geographic. He liked learning about natural phenomena and especially the behavior of the animal kingdom. We never watched the news or current-events programs. His favorite series was the animated comedy
South Park
. He liked it so much that, in the aftermath of his public scandal, when a Tiger Woods character was lampooned in one of the episodes, Tiger confessed to me that he laughed and actually seemed proud to have made the show.

His most repetitive viewing was a DVD called
Navy SEALs: BUD/S Class 234
. (BUD/S stands for Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALs.) The video followed a group of SEALs candidates through a six-month training course that was so brutal only 30 percent graduated. Tiger knew the whole thing by heart. He’d tell me about Hell Week, when very little sleep was allowed, or how long a person could stay in 50-degree water before the body becomes hypothermic. As I’d watch the documentary with him, I’d realize that some of his sayings, like “Second place is first loser,” were borrowed from the SEALs instructors. I was also struck by how the instructors accepted absolutely no excuses for a candidate’s not completing a task, no matter how difficult that task was.

Tiger’s military fixation really came out in the video game
SOCOM: U.S. Navy SEALs
. (SOCOM stands for Special Operations Command.) To play, Tiger would put on headphones, through which an animated commander would give him orders for the next mission to be carried out. The objective was to keep overcoming increasingly difficult tests. Tiger would get totally immersed, sitting on the edge of the couch, as intense and focused as if he were playing in a major championship. I never played, but after being around him so often while he was playing, I had the urge to try it. But he never offered to show me.

I always wonder if I might have had a closer relationship with Tiger if one incident hadn’t happened. I was working for ESPN in 2005, teaching their golf schools and doing some commentary work on their golf telecasts. One Thursday there was a discussion about a tournament the following week, and the producers wanted to cover it only if Tiger was going to play. As was his habit as long as I worked with him, Tiger often didn’t commit to playing in a tournament until the deadline, which was the Friday before tournament week. It kept everyone guessing, including TV networks wondering how to allocate resources. In this one instance, I knew that Tiger wasn’t going to play, so rather than have the producer make unnecessary arrangements, I thought I’d give him a confidential heads-up. The producer knew not to out me as a source of Tiger’s not playing, and ESPN didn’t report Tiger’s decision not to play until the deadline passed the next day.

The next time I saw Tiger, though, a couple of weeks later, I realized that it had somehow leaked that I’d tipped off the producer. He told me in a flat voice, “Don’t tell people where I’m going to play.” I said, “OK, sorry; won’t happen again.” And that was the end of the discussion. But from that moment, I was never again told whether he was entering a tournament until the same day he publicly announced his decision on his website. It made my life harder as far as planning went, but I guess he felt I’d betrayed him, and this was the consequence. In the bigger picture, he probably didn’t trust me as much, although I’m not sure. With Tiger, as far as staying in the inner sanctum, you’re pretty much one and done.

What I came to realize was that Tiger had to be judged in the context of what he was trying to accomplish, which was to be not just the best golfer in the world, but the best golfer he could be. In his case, the latter was a much higher goal. He was after something unique—something others couldn’t realistically aspire to—and part of the price was having some missing pieces as a person. Whenever I was around Tiger off the course, I always felt that so-called normal life was just passing time for him, as if he were storing energy for his real purpose.

That was the explanation I settled on for why Tiger would remain silent for long periods. Steve Williams and I would joke to ourselves about how uncomfortable Tiger’s muteness could become. Whenever Steve or I would see Tiger, we would always be the first ones to speak, usually asking Tiger how he was, or how he slept or whatever. Steve told me that before one round he was going to make a point of not being the one to speak first after he met Tiger on the practice tee. Steve has a lot of willpower, but he reported that after about twenty minutes, he finally broke down and said something. And Tiger answered him like everything was normal. “It was getting ridiculous,” Steve said. “He was just warming up like I wasn’t even there. He is definitely in his own world.”

Tiger and I were getting along fine into late 2004, even as he went on his longest winless streak since 1998. On the one hand, he was consistent: From Charlotte through the Tour Championship, he finished in the top four seven times in 12 tournaments. On the other hand, he was disappointing in the major championships that mattered most: He tied for 17th at the U.S. Open, tied for ninth at the British Open, and tied for 24th at the PGA Championship, in the process tying his then-career-worst 0-for-10 streak in the majors.

But Tiger showed commitment to our plan. It had been made easier because up until the Tour Championship, the fact that I was his new swing coach was unconfirmed. Even when I was interviewed about my relationship with Tiger in October, I said that Tiger was just a “friend who I sometimes help with his swing.” The interview didn’t appear until February 2005, by which time it was clear that, friend or not, Tiger and I had a formal arrangement.

What kept Tiger enthusiastic about our work together was that he was really starting to get into a groove on the practice range and at Isleworth. Although he was mocked for it in the press when he repeatedly said he was “close,” he really was.

At the same time, 2004 was the year Vijay Singh dominated the PGA Tour, winning nine tournaments, including the PGA. He’d supplanted Tiger as number one, and with Phil’s victory at the Masters, there was talk that the Tiger Era was over.

Tiger, who wasn’t friendly with Vijay but respected him, didn’t seem that concerned that he’d been replaced as number one. He knew he was the best, and he was running his own race. He knew that when he began winning again, plenty of recognition and accolades would come with it. I thought he explained our plan well when he told
Golf Digest
, “You can play from the wrong position for a long time with good hands, but eventually it’s going to catch up with you. I’d like to play my best more frequently, and that’s the whole idea.”

He and Elin got married in October. I went to the wedding in Barbados at Sandy Lane, a luxury resort owned by two of Tiger’s friends, Irish businessmen Dermot Desmond and J. P. McManus. The best part of the festivities for me was having my longest talk ever with Earl. As a coach I really wanted to get his insights into Tiger. With no offense to me, Earl said he didn’t think it was particularly important which swing coach or technique Tiger decided on. He believed he was good enough to adapt to anything and still beat everyone. But Earl did say that it was important for Tiger to have structure, because that was the way he operated best. Earl enjoyed the chance to tell his stories to someone who was interested and would be working with his son. From talking to him, I could see Earl was a natural coach, very bright and intuitive, not only in his ability to impart a golf or life lesson but especially in being able to keep his son interested. I know some top instructors who don’t teach their children because they feel that the message gets emotionally complicated when it comes from a father. But Earl somehow knew how to also be Tiger’s friend and keep the lessons fun while using his deep love for his son as a strength. It reminded me of something Keith Kleven used to say: “No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care.”

After getting back from his honeymoon, Tiger nearly won the Tour Championship in November but was overtaken in the last round by Retief Goosen, who closed with a 64. It was only the second time in 22 tries that Tiger had lost when holding or sharing the third-round lead. To his critics, it was more evidence that he’d lost something. They could also make a case by citing his ball-striking statistics. Tiger would finish the year 182nd in driving accuracy with an average of 56.1 percent, and he’d notch a career-low 48th in greens in regulation with 66.9 percent.

But then things turned. He went to Japan a couple of weeks later and won the Dunlop Phoenix by eight strokes. Two weeks after that, he won the tournament he hosts, the Target World Challenge at Sherwood Country Club, near Los Angeles. He told me that in his mind, he’d made a breakthrough with the takeaway, in which we were trying to get the wrists cocking up while the forearms rotated. Once that move became natural, the rest of the changes just flowed and freed him mentally.

Just before Christmas, Tiger and Elin joined Mark O’Meara and me and our wives for a ski trip in Park City, Utah. As a precaution, Tiger wore a bulky knee brace like an offensive lineman. The experience was especially fun for him because it was a rare chance to be normal in a public place. No one could recognize him because of all the clothes he was wearing, and no one stopped him, because on a ski slope everyone is always moving. He got bugged a little in the lodge, but he rolled with it, and it didn’t ruin his mood. I always felt getting out in public settings was good for Tiger. It seemed to release some of the tension that I thought came from having to live such a controlled existence, and I’d find him noticeably more relaxed in the days after.

Tiger had never skied. He started on the beginner slope and was doing pretty well. He was being careful and concentrating on his form. But Elin, who’s an advanced skier, would kind of egg him on to try to keep up with her, which I could see was getting to him. It scared the hell out of me.

Sure enough, after not enough time on the beginner slope, Tiger wanted to graduate to the next level, the green slope. To be safe, he needed some turning skills, because that’s the way to control speed and slow down, and he assured everyone he knew how to turn well enough. At the top of the slope, Mark’s friend Todd Servick, who was a Salomon ski rep and a near-pro-level skier, coached Tiger a bit, emphasizing that he turn early to keep his speed down. Tiger said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Then he took off.

Right away, he went straight down the hill, no turning, and very soon was going too fast. We started yelling for him to turn, but he probably couldn’t even hear. There was another, steeper hill about 300 yards ahead of him. If he couldn’t stop before getting to that one, his speed would increase to where the only way he’d be able to stop would be to fall or run into a tree. Phil Mickelson, an accomplished skier, had lost control on a difficult slope in the early 1990s and still has the titanium rod in his femur to prove it. As I watched Tiger, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

Todd went after him, digging as fast as he could. He was really moving, but it didn’t look to me that he was going to catch Tiger before he got to the steeper slope. I prepared myself for a disaster and could see the headlines: “Tiger Has Ski Accident During Trip with Haney.”

Then out of nowhere, Tiger somehow made a turn and safely stopped.

We all caught up with them, and Tiger was out of breath but clearly stoked. He’d loved the daredevil moment and was especially pleased that it had caused so much panic among his friends. As we all told him to never do that again and even called him an asshole and every other name, he laughed harder than I’d ever heard him laugh before.

Our best days were just ahead.