It's nearly Masters time, that glorious burst of magnolias and exquisitely manicured verdant meadows that signifies the certain arrival of Spring.  Raised in the Great White North, we often had snow on the ground when the Masters rolled around so the fabled and telegenic course at Augusta brought us hope of the warming yet to come and the possibilty that we, too, might be able to get back out on the golf course soon. 

But now that hopeful wisp of spring is mixed with dread, for the Masters has come to mean yet another chance for Tiger Woods to gain ground on the Golden Bear, Jack Nicklaus, in his quest to hold the record for majors victories on the PGA tour.   Wilt Chamberlain got it right when he lamented that "Nobody roots for Goliath"- at least nobody without an axe to grind.  There are legions of Tiger fans, just as there is a horde of New York Yankee fans:  but rooting for Tiger is like going to Las Vegas and rooting for the house.  Tiger's grim march through the slender field of modern golf's Lilliputians has been like watching a boxing match between Mike Tyson and Mother Teresa-the poor girl would never have a chance.

Like fabled Achilles, immune to harm except on the point of his heel where his mother held him as she dipped him into the River Styx, imparting him near invulnerability, Tiger of late has seemed immune to the efforts of his less-than-erstwhile competitors.  Watching Tiger in a golf tournament of late has been akin to watching the Little League World Series where the starting pitcher for Guatemala has a mustache and three kids in the stands rooting for him.

Tiger has had the nearly unbeatable combination of physical strength and deft touch combined with super-human concentration and determination that has been the hallmark of golf's demi-gods from Hagen to Hogan to Nicklaus.   But while Tiger's course management, ball-striking and putting remain at perhaps the peak of his remarkable career, the chink in his thinking has re-appeared.  As reported in Golfweek:

"...Tiger Woods, who early last week caught just as much attention for snapping at a photographer as he did for failing to keep his undefeated season alive at the WGC-CA Championship. Woods was mid-swing Sunday on the tee of Doral's par-3 ninth hole when a photographer clicked a camera prematurely. Woods flinched, pulled his tee shot into the rough and eventually made the bogey that some would argue officially ended The Streak.

Said Woods, according to The Scotsman, seconds after the click: "The next time a photographer shoots a (expletive) picture, I'm going to break his (expletive) neck."

My, my: methinks the Tiger doth protest too much!  Isn't keeping one's concentration part and parcel of the game of golf?  What Sunday afternoon golfer hasn't had the distinct pleasure of attempting to strike the ball while one's opponent jiggles his keys in his pocket or tosses a beer can into a metal trash can?  Or, if your foursome is a bit more rowdy, clapping their hands or sneezing or coughing during your backswing?   Understandably Tiger is playing on the big stage for most of the marbles and the pressure is greater: but isn't being able to overcome the distractions inherent in tournament play part of coming out on top?

How would Tiger fare playing college basketball, where the opposing fans jeer wildly and wave giant foam fingers and poms-poms beneath the basket while players attempt important free throws?  Would there have to be a special concession made for Tiger to clear out the stands so he could have the peace and quiet his Tigerliness deserves?

I make light of this, but this would appear to be the Kryptonite that will be the undoing of Tiger's search for more major victories.  If I were playing in Tiger's group, I would have my caddie wear a camera around his neck and take a few photos of Mr. Tightsphincter before the fun started.  

I visualize the fairways at Augusta, lined with sedate fans, each holding up his camera, asking for Tiger's "Cheese."  Is this a bit of gamesmanship?  Indeed it is, but the lunch-bucketization of golf seems to have begun with Tiger.  As Tigermania developed, growing numbers of lower and middle class fans began to take up the game and particularly to follow Tiger's exploits.   One needs only remember the rowdy fans at Bethpage's Black Course for the 2002 U.S. Open to understand the element that Tiger helped bring to the game and tournaments.

And what of this fanbase's treatment of  poor old, sourpuss Colin Montgomerie?   Monty was almost run off the course at the 1997 U.S. Open by drunken fans after a rain delay.   He is regularly insulted and harassed by U.S. fans hollering "Mrs. Doubtfire" in his swing and behind his back.  How would Tiger hold up under the withering and noisy assault of the spectating class?  His recent temper tantrum suggests he would not do very well.

Let's hope the defenders of tradition and order at the Masters don't buckle and create some foolish "No Cameras" rule to protect the delicate Tigerlilly from suffering the occasional "click."   The fact remains that Tiger lost his concentration and hit a bad shot: all golfers do, some much more often than others.  Here's wagering that the camera Kryptonite discovered at the WGC-CA Championship enables another Masters to slip away from Tiger.  Let's hope so: it will be a long summer, otherwise, listening to the drooling multitudes hankering after a Grand Slam for He of the Sensitive Ear.

Note:  The Author hereby copyrights the concept of the "Tiger Kryptonite Camera."  Those interested in the potential development of this product please contact me through the my FoxSports blog.