AT the peak of his prowess as a golfer, Tiger Woods was magnificent. He dominated his peers so elegantly, so gracefully — and so mercilessly — that he was easily described as beautiful.
Yesterday, at just 41 years of age, because of recurring back problems, he had to withdraw from the Dubai Desert Classic before hitting a single second-round shot.
This is the latest in a line of back issues that casts a cloud over a career in which he won 14 majors and dozens of ‘ordinary’ tournaments. Woods may be forced to retire from golf.
Even though professional sport is an utterly unforgiving arena, think, for a moment, of the person, the man.
Despite his almost incomprehensible wealth, despite his ability to do more or less anything he wants, except play golf at the level he once dominated, it is hard not to be moved by the human frailty.
Especially as most of us will have a brush with that frailty one way or another. How we deal with it defines us.
Carpe diem, indeed.
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