Lincicome: The sad case of Tiger Woods

When that one Great Scorer comes to mark against his name, He will not ask if Tiger Woods won or lost but why didn’t he just take an Uber?

The generational distance grows between Tiger Woods, the legend, and Tiger Woods, the mug shot. Golf being the geriatric toy box it is, memory is at risk in both cases, although arrests seem to be gaining on green jackets.

And speaking of the Augusta winner’s wrap, Woods will not be at the Masters this week, where his wardrobe is forever stuck at five jackets, one less than Jack Nicklaus. The membership wishes Tiger well, as do we all.

This is not the way the world imagined the end would come for Woods, if this is indeed the end. There are several automobile brands yet to abuse before time runs out.

By my count Woods has backed a Cadillac Escalade into a fire hydrant and a tree at his then suburban Orlando manse, costly not only in auto repairs but in marriage.

He was found asleep in a Mercedes, on the side of the road in Jupiter, Florida, blinker on, two tires flat. Mixed medications were blamed, establishing a reliable alibi. His mug shot was alarming and a preview.

Woods crashed a Genesis SUV in Palos Verdes, California, nearly destroying a leg, as well as his career. The leg remains attached, but Woods has barely played golf since and has won not at all.

And now he has rolled a Range Rover on Jupiter Island, nearly impossible to do for anyone paying attention.

At the risk of being a zip code dropper, I once shared the same county with Woods, crawling along the same road on various errands, minding the speed limit and the scenery.

All of these were lone driver incidents, some relief to be had that Woods is not a natural companion, going it alone as usual, each wound self-inflicted.

So how to think of Woods now? With sympathy, surely; with disgust, totally, His gifts have not been wasted. There may be no braver example in sports than Woods U.S. Open win at Torrey Pines, playing on a broken leg and a torn ACL, winning on the 19 th hole in a playoff.

Yet there may be a no more depressing illustration of regret than the competing head shots, nine years apart, of Woods in custody. The 2017 asleep-on-the-highway arrest was such a contrast to the Woods of golf fame, it seemed like a different creature.

I wrote at the time: “Tiger Woods is not looking his best. His eyes are heavy lidded, half closed, maybe from sleep, maybe from surrender. The lights are out behind his eyes.

“This is not a picture to be proud of. It is the kind of picture on the walls of precincts. It is the kind of picture found in yearbooks and on passports, a bad picture, a picture the owner wishes could be taken back. But there it is and it will be there as long as social media remains antisocial.”

And now here it is again. Mug shot Deux. The figures could be twins, which they are, sharing the same DUI.

I would say all the same things, the difference being that this Woods has less hair now. He seems more congenial in a way, maybe aware that defiance no longer works.

Yes, Woods’ conduct has been careless. His choices have been selfish. But the glory that was Woods will last longer than his recent misjudgments and his evident weaknesses.

Woods does not need advice on how to fix himself. He has had plenty of that as well as actual medical repairs.

He says he is going to take care of those demons. “I know and understand the seriousness of the situation I find myself in,” Woods posted.

Woods will not captain the next Ryder Cup, removing himself in order to better himself. He has approval to travel out of the country to seek “comprehensive inpatient treatment,” which means a couple of things. It is worse than we thought and Woods is aware he is losing his legacy.

I might suggest, maybe his driver’s license, too?