Masterful, but only half-a-story

Rohit Mahajan

IN April 1997, 21 and black, and playing at the Augusta National golf club, the ultimate symbol of white male privilege in the US, what did Tiger Woods have going for him? 

Nothing. Except that he was a genius.

As the son of an African-American father and a Thai mother, Woods had experienced injustice at the hands of bigots. He knew just how much black lives mattered in the US. Denied quality education, respect, equality, blacks beat everyone else in fields where talent is unstoppable, such as music and sport — but golf was a new territory.

Woods won the Masters and changed golf forever. From a staid sport played and watched by privileged white people, golf became a sport with a very diverse following. TV ratings, sponsorship and prize money soared, and golfers began to earn much more than before Woods emerged and drove the golf market into frenzy.

It all began at the Masters in 1997. Twenty years on, Woods has published a book about his amazing win at Augusta. Everyone knows the story, but it remains an amazing story  — and coming from the man himself, the book has got to be unputdownable, right? Well, not entirely.

It's not a big book, but it's not an easy read for a lay reader, or even a golf aficionado. It's because Woods focuses more on golf shots than the narrative of his life.

It's an extremely golf-centric book, and the game is described at such an elevated level that only a professional or very serious golfers can actually relate to what he's saying. Woods writes in great detail about the week that changed golf  — where he lived, what he ate, practically all 72 holes he played. It's intense, but it seems a bit inadequate  — not quite commensurate to what Masters 1997 meant to countless people across the world. 

Not a new story

Augusta National's members, like most extremely privileged and rich men of earlier times — and maybe of all times — were regressive, racist and sexist. They refused to allow blacks to play in their tournament until 1975; they refused to allow black men to join their club until 1990; they refused to allow women to become members until 2012. The presence of blacks was tolerated only as staff members. Woods' win at this place was a wonderful blow against bigotry.

What did Masters 1997 mean to Woods? He does tell in this book, but it's in his usual guarded manner — he doesn't lay bare his soul the way, say, Andre Agassi laid bare his own soul in Open.

There are clues in the book why Woods didn't, and will never, lay bare his soul. He had a speech problem and stuttered as a child; he didn't know and trust the media; as journalism got more intrusive, he's become even more guarded.

Being Woods

Who could have ever thought that Woods would become the butt of blonde jokes in late-night TV shows? It did happen as his affairs with countless blondes surfaced and his marriage with his (blonde) wife Elin broke. His career stalled. Woods, in his 42nd year, is in decline. 

He hasn't won a Major since 2008, but he's a man important for reasons other than golf too. Yet, in this book, he's reticent about what we think are the real issues —   we think racism, progress, change and equality are the real issues of the Tiger Woods story. But Woods differs — he knows the most real issue of his life is winning in golf. Racism? He dealt with that as a kid, by closing it out of his consciousness.

"My mom's Buddhist teachings helped me learn not to let insults get to me," Woods writes. "She always advised me to turn the other cheek." 

Elsewhere, he writes about racist behaviour against him: "I saw but didn't see. I heard but didn't hear."

His father, who knew a thing or two about racism, toughened him up as a pre-teen. It involved calling his beloved son "you little piece of shit" or asking him: "How do you feel being a little nigger?"

It's in sections such as these that Woods allows people a peep into his psyche. It's a pity he doesn't do it more often in this book.