Vulnerable Woods faces Straits test

New York: It cannot have escaped Tiger Woods' attention, as his Gulfstream jet touched down in Sheboygan Falls for this week's US PGA Championship, that the wind-lashed layout of Whistling Straits had somewhere in the region of 1,000 bunkers.

So in addition to his sand-iron he might like to have picked a spade — just so he could dig a hole in one of them.

While ‘the Straits', dubbed "links golf on steroids" by one professional, represent one of perhaps 10 courses that the standard American hacker would board any plane to play, it is as harsh a test as could be conceived for a man who has just played four rounds on the manicured fairways of Akron in 18 over par.

Woods arrived in Wisconsin under the radar, at the crack of dawn, with a haggard look born not just of his scruffy goatee beard but of his uncomfortable sense of embarrassment.

We must assume, even allowing for the weary way he slapped it around at Firestone last week, that a wretched total of 298 was accompanied by a degree of shame, because to believe otherwise would be to conclude that he does not care.

Fatalistic

Even at this nadir in his career, Woods would never be so fatalistic. In a season when he has lost his wife, his dignity, his coach and his putting stroke, he betrays little intention of giving up on a game that has proved a dependable friend.

At Pebble Beach for the US Open, where he shot one of just three rounds all year under 69, he would spend hours ahead of each round working on angles and trajectories, simply to regain his former touch.

His enigmatic attitude at Akron, where he struck a television tower with one shot and mock-bowed after the rarest of birdies, hinted at a resigned recognition that none of those drills has worked.

There is a school of thought among seasoned Woods observers that what the world No 1 most needs is some tough love, a reminder that many others suffer divorces but are still expected to perform their jobs to the best of their abilities.

Still, not all of them suffer such chaos, however self-inflicted, in their personal circumstances. Woods' attempts at rehabilitation for sex addiction have not saved his marriage.

He appears none the wiser on when he will next see his children. His life is in turmoil, and in a sport requiring such unremitting mental application as his, some impairment is inescapable.

Although Woods, four-times a PGA champion, could take solace from the tournament's reputation as glory's last shot, Whistling Straits this week is no place for one so vulnerable.

Jack Nicklaus, in a private moment earlier in the year, indicated that Woods, marooned on 14 majors, would need to win at least one this year to threaten his record of 18.

But the thrill of the chase has, briefly, evaporated. Forget the majors; Woods approaches the season's final showpiece unable even to get it going in the minors.

He is due to meet Corey Pavin, the US Ryder Cup captain, this week to discuss his potential role at Celtic Manor, but was suitably blunt when asked if he wanted to play. "Not playing like this," he replied. "I mean, I wouldn't help the team. No one could help the team if they're shooting 18 over par."

A miserable

— Agencies