Can it be? Is Tiger's hypnotic grasp fleeting?
Did anyone else experience this Sunday?
It was like the "Cheers" episode in which Nick Tortelli, who had a mystic hold over ex-wife Carla, kisses her.
Her eyes open widely and she says, "Nothing." The spell was off.
That's how I felt Sunday when Tiger Woods made a mile-long putt for birdie on No. 11 at Augusta National.
"Nothing," I thought.
The indifference was eerie. Confusion reigned. Disoriented, I got up from the recliner and tried to get a beverage from the bathroom medicine cabinet.
Early in the afternoon I intended to do what I normally do -- psychically, cosmically and biorhythmically help Woods win the Masters.
Instead I wound up pulling for Trevor Immelman and Brandt Snedeker to hold him off.
Immelman did. Woods finished second by 3 shots. I wasn't disappointed.
Seriously, this wasn't a case of rooting against Tiger. It was just not rooting for him. It wasn't enjoying his bad shots. It was just not enjoying his good shots.
Tiger seemed immune from this because he's a golfer and golf is the one sport in which fans like to see the favorite prevail.
People wanted to see Arnold Palmer win. Then they wanted to see Jack Nicklaus win. Now they want to see Tiger Woods win.
Let's face it, who wants to watch a tournament and find out hours later you wasted your time on an historic victory by some guy named Immelman?
In fact, I already went through that. Woods should have won the final Western Open in 2006, but Immelman edged him out.
I wrote that it wasn't appropriate. A couple of readers responded by telling me what a promising, young golfer and nice, young man Immelman was.
They were right, but that didn't mean that Sunday I was going to prefer watching Immelman at his best instead of Woods at his best.
But that was the emotion. Immelman and Snedeker were my guys.
(For the record, I do understand how odd it is that world-class golfers have names like Immelman and Snedeker; they're more like names you would see on the door when the Stooges stumbled upon a doctors' office.)
Anyway, where was I?
Oh, yeah, this strange sensation of not wanting Tiger Woods to win the Masters again.
It was sort of like not wanting Santa Claus to bring Christmas presents, the Easter bunny to not hide any eggs, or the Tooth Fairy to not replace a senior citizen's dentures with dollars.
Who knows why this rooting reversal happened? I would hate to think the reason was the mind games Woods plays with his competitors were starting to be more irritating than endearing.
Like, Woods trailed by 6 strokes after the third round but made it a point to point out he had won major tournaments before and none of the leaders had.
"I'm me and they aren't," he seemed to proclaim.
Sunday, Immelman was Tiger and Tiger was Immelman and my disappointment amounted to, "Nothing."
Did I turn a corner here? An Amen Corner so to speak? Probably not. I still like Woods, still respect him and still consider him the greatest golfer ever.
But we'll know more during the U.S. Open in June.
If I'm pulling for guys named Johnson Wagner and Arron Oberholser to beat Tiger Woods, something definitely will have changed forever.