Do you feel that?
Do you?
You have to. It's been a while, but It's there. Golf fans have waited a couple years now to feel it again. It's the buzz. And even for just this Sunday, its back.
We all know that buzz. It's the thing that kept us watching dudes in nice slacks slapping balls around grass fields four hours on end four Sundays a year. It's the only reason we are content with Kenny Maine no long anchoring "SportsCenter." It was the thing we felt watching Nicklaus and Trevino go at each others throats at Augusta National year after year. The buzz that we almost cried about being lost during Arnold Palmer's last major attempt in 1994 while OJ Simpson made his headlines in a white bronco. Heck, it's the same buzz that led us to actually holding our collective breath when Happy Gilmore recklessly caromed a golf ball across a broadcasting tower to take down Shooter McGavin for the coveted "golden" jacket.
But we chronic sports fans know the buzz for something more intensely specific. We feel the buzz when we think of a young, slightly darker-skinned kid win amateur after amateur in a black baseball cap that seemed far too big for his skinny head. We felt it when he defied all odds at 21 years old to win his first major, when he almost literally ate alive an entire playing field to mark Pebble Beach his own in the 2000 US Open, when his caddy, field judges, all the spectators, commentators and most of the United Kingdom population marched with him to 18th green at St Andrews to win his first British Open, when he buried his head in his caddy's shoulder and cried, bawled more specifically after winning his first major following the death of his father. This same buzz made red shirts synonymous with greatness, power swings a must and the only real chase for Jack's record possibility we may ever see. Where ever you stand, there is no doubting that, for the longest time, Tiger Woods was that buzz, and when that buzz was on there was purely nothing better.
This recent year has been a time of honest fear for sports fans for numerous reasons. It's been a year of scandal, of breaking traditions, of newly found villains and very few known heroes. More people have cared about sports in Miami since the retirement of "Thunder" Dan Majerle, while less and less people find New York sports at all relevant when not controversial. But worst of all, in the loss of who was the most talented, most determined, most electrifying man to hit a golf course has fallen morally and in many cases athletically, that buzz has dissipated. No exuberant fist pumps to follow long playoff-forcing putts, no ESPN "Tiger or the field" conversations, and no miracle marches to the 18th. Golf was simply irrelevant, leaving that long loved buzz to a stunned silence. And no one knew if anyone, anywhere could spring it back to life.
That was before the Irishman became a household name.
His name is Rory - if you didn't know any better you would mistake his name for the daughter off the "Gilmore Girls." But no WB teen drama has been nearly as compelling as 2011 has been for Mr. McIlroy. Only several weeks saved from the one of the most painful meltdowns in sports history (shooting a horrific 80 for the last round of the Masters and blowing his chance at winning, and what could still have made him the choking-under-pressure flavor of the year had it not been for "Peasant" James in the NBA Finals), Rory came to Congressional with a goal in mind. Not to save face, not to build his image, not even to simply play well. He came to win. He more than anyone in that field knew that the only way to put humiliatingly losing a major championship to bed was to triumphantly win one - to carve every swing as if it were choreographed by Fred Astaire. To make up for every misplaced shot with so much ease you'd think he planned it that way. To make veterans like Phil Mickelson stop on the fairway to applaud what he was doing ever 18 that week. He needed to win, he had to win.
And he did.
Not only did he win, he conquered. Standing on the 18th green with an eight-stroke victory, numerous Open records etched with his performance and thousands upon thousands of bystanders chanting his name, all surrounding a more than humble fist pump that put the punctuation on his first major championship. We all watched it. We all loved it. There was excitement, there was intrigue.
In fact, you might even say... there was a buzz.
In all the pandemonium of the first relevant golf tournament in quite a while, we can't help but have two thoughts.
One - We all want to see Rory become one of the greats. To be the living fairytale athlete that grazes records books, is the topic of comparison and inspires young ins the world over to pick up such a beautiful game. With hope and faith, this weekend at Congressional we saw the next best thing in golf.
And Two- Rory's done his thing, now it's your move, Tiger.
Of every vision of this passed week- we all assumed one. We saw in our minds eye a bandaged knee accompanying one of sports greatest icons, sitting on his couch watching a sweet smiling kid from Northern Ireland capture hearts and make subliminal noise while winning the US Open. He has seen several people win titles since his last, but this last one has him thinking something different.
"That kid's got my buzz."
Like Rocky taking in the fire after watching Draco take down his best friend, there may be no better time for Tiger Woods to begin fueling for competition. Of all the reasons to be a winner again, this is his best vehicle, because for the first time in his career he could actually have a rival. every great athlete has stood the test of someone who challenge their prowess - the David who forced them to dodge flying rocks at every angle, and the greatest of great has stood the test and remained the legends they are. In past years many have made life competitive for Tiger- there were the Sergios, the Vijays, the Phil and even the Roccos - but in the all the years when talented golfers have tried the catch him, he may finally, if momentum keeps up, have the golfer who can stick with him. A Nadal to his Federer, a Megatron to his Optimus, a Happy to his Shooter. Like the jealous boyfriend who can't stand to see his ex with another man, Tiger should be fuming that Rory took his buzz - and if he catches that fire, I suggest you travel the golf world with an extra set of unsoiled undergarmets, because it's bound to amaze.
McIlroy has shown in one weekend all the characteristics that make champions great- several things that Tiger himself, in many ways, has all but invented. We can spend years comparing Kobe and LeBron to Jordan, Brady to Montana, Pujols to Babe Ruth or Michael Phelps to Flipper. What makes this new comparison as refreshing as it is, is even in the littlest way we can actually prove it. Just like when Sampras took down McEnroe over twenty years ago, the skillful old and face the talented new and it could be every bit compelling. Tiger's push to chase Jack's record may even take second chair to him outlasting the smooth swinging Hobbit. Imagine Pebble Beach or Augusta with not one, but two juggernauts jocking for grasp of a world-famous jug - EA sports switching positions annually for who is the face of their video game - making Rory-Tiger as well known of a debatable pairing as Roe-Wade. The visions are staggering, and the stories the stuff of legends.
But as we said, the ball is in Tiger's court. Messy divorces, injuries and a less than dominant putting game need to take a step back. We need to iron-wielding assassin back in action. And we need him soon. Because his widow is here - the window that can restore the visions of heroes on golf courses and Bob Costas monologues that we actually care about, all in all constructing more excitement we've ever seen on the links. A gargantuan buzz we've never before experienced. Maybe it'll happen, or maybe it's all pipe dreams. But one thing is for sure:
Golf is back.
Feel it.
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