Time can occasionally heal a fractious, disjointed personal life, but it remains the professional sportsman’s greatest enemy.
Confirmation that Tiger Woods would be missing from the start of this week's US Open for the first time since 1994 came as a blow, but not a shock, to his army of followers.
Tiger has been unable to practise properly since aggravating a persistent knee injury at the Masters in April. In an attempt to make the US Open, he turned out a month ago at the Players Championship, but was forced to retire after just nine holes.
In truth, he was unlikely to stage a realistic challenge in the US Open. Even if fully fit, he probably would have struggled at the brutal Congressional course in Bethesda where straight driving, not something for which he is renowned, is a prerequisite.
“To not have one of the greatest players that has ever lived [at the tournament] is massive,” said Northern Ireland’s Graeme McDowell, the current US Open champion.
“Golf needs Tiger Woods. He’s been golf for the last 15 years. His mental health is one question, his physical health is another. We’ll hope he’ll be back, but no-one knows.”
Though a number of sponsors deserted Woods following sordid revelations about his personal life, several leaping at an unexpected opportunity to remove a massive financial liability as trading conditions worsened, his two principal sponsors, Nike and EA Sports, continue to consider him a remarkably consistent cash cow.
Last year, Woods’ earnings on the PGA Tour amounted to a relatively paltry $2.09 million. However, he collected a further $20 million from playing in other events and an additional $48 million in sponsorship and endorsement fees.
According to Golf Digest, Tiger banked $70 million in 2010: not bad for a guy who barely played and who encountered an incessant tidal wave of bad press.
There is little doubt that ever since turning professional in 1996, Woods has been responsible for a remarkable turnaround in golf’s fortunes.
His skill, physical fitness, mental strength and presence have transformed the image of a game previously associated with overweight, over-dressed, middle-aged men.
He is the player golf sponsors (and other pros) prayed for, a man who, if he never played again, could retire having endowed the sport with an extraordinarily legacy of achievement and financial success.
American pros joke that whenever they see Tiger arriving at a course in his car, at least two of them make a beeline to carry his bags. They appreciate that without him, the riches coursing through the game, even during difficult economic times, would be only a fraction of what they presently are.
To give some idea of how sponsor’s money has permeated the game, consider this: when Woods turned pro in 1996, only the top 13 players on the PGA Tour earned in excess of $1 million. Woods himself finished in 18th place that year, collecting $906,000.
