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Two days ago, I sat within 40 feet of Tiger Woods, the greatest golfer on the planet.
I'm perched in my canvas chair on the edge of the third green at the Wachovia Championship in Charlotte.
I'm waiting, waiting, waiting...
From the early afternoon (about 12:30 p.m.) I get to green # 3 and figure my strategy.
Sooner or later Tiger will prowl that green.
Turned out, because of a rain delay, my Tiger sighting occurred in about four hours. (As I waited, got to see the likes of Phil Mickelson, V.J. Singh, Rory Sabbatini, Sergio Garcia and others.)
Will never forget it.
The guy is tall.
He appreciates his millions of admirers--thousands of whom were at the Wachovia Championship. It's a thrill when he tips (ever so slightly) the bill of his cap--letting us all know that he sees us.
He's quiet and focused. Never seemed to blink an eye. Never uttered a word, far as I could tell, on the green to his caddie or to anyone else. Walked all over that green, surveying and feeling it, kneeling down and staring--taking measure of his challenge.
His ball is about 35 feet from the whole. Downhill, tricky putt with contours between the ball and the whole. Very difficult. Can't hit it too softly, I figured.
He didn't sink it, but came ever so close--settling the ball on the edge of the cup, within a fingernail. . . within a breath of dropping.
A beautiful putt from our world's best golfer.
That day, he wore a white Nike cap and a white Nike shirt.
Yesterday, when he won the Wachovia Championship (by 2 strokes, earning $1.1 million), he wore red.
Always does.
If I'm alive next year, I'll be at the Wachovia Championship in Charlotte at Quail Hollow--working to get another Tiger sighting.
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