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AP: The Wire

Get ready for the 1999 Georgia Games in Augusta

Sports @ugusta

photo: sports

 Rick Dorsey is a staff writer for The Augusta Chronicle.
FILE/STAFF

Tiger not as good as he thinks he is

The trick, you see, is to not believe a word he says

Web posted June 21, 1998

By Rick Dorsey
Columnist

SAN FRANCISCO -- Tiger Woods will not win this U.S. Open and he won't win any of the remaining two this century, not because he's too bold or too temperamental for this tournament's rigorous state, but because he's just not as good as he thinks he his.

Listen to the fuzzy feline after third consecutive round over par on a course he claims to have extensive local knowledge of and you wonder how come they don't seed Tiger's rough with a twinge of humility.

U.S. Open
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•U.S. Open site
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That 66 is somewhere back in the tool shed, he says. Just got to clear those expectations away, expectations that grow more flimsy in credibility with each passing tournament.

I'll find it. No need to worry. I'm still awesome. Why do you think all these people want to see me play? Because they know I'm it, baby.

If you can find it within yourself to peer through the advertisements and massive gallery of fool's gold diggers following his every errant shot, you can see Tiger comin' 'round the learning curve when he comes.

The trick, you see, is to not believe a word he says.

``I've played so much better mentally than in any of the majors last year,'' Tiger claims.

No player seven shots over par has ever thought themselves a more complete golfer. It's almost frightening, this guy's ego.

``I'm playing with so much more intelligence. I'm learning my lessons. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here talking on Saturday.''

It took some Vegas luck for Tiger to squeeze his inflated head under the Friday limbo bar; claiming he earned his weekend pass is like saying you knew the roulette wheel would wind up black.

Well, all year long we've heard from Hot Air Tiger, telling the world that he's right there, he's right where he wants to be, he's playing better than he's ever played before.

Tiger, you are Game Under Repair.

Yes, you blitzed the Masters two years ago. Yes, you won twice in '96, four times in '97 and once this season, when you saved yourself all week in Atlanta.

Yes, you might be the reason that golf is no longer just your father's game. He has accomplished his niche in a tender two years on tour, but believe me, he's not game's greatest saviour.

He does possess extraordinary ability to pound a golf ball. He has innate strength, tremendous flexibility, enormous upside. It's that unbelievable talent that helps him avoid the 79s and 84s the Jim Johnsons and Rocky Walchers of golf would post if they found the rough as often as Tiger does.

But don't allow that skill he possesses to mesmerize you in believing his bravado. Tiger finished four hours before the players that mattered did, a sign that hopefully shows you there are more consistent golfers around.

``It's just one of those weeks when I haven't been able to put all the pieces together,'' he said, as if he dumped a jigsaw puzzle on his coffee table, and he can't locate all the straight edges.

Of all his 217 strokes this week, the 95 wretched ones coming from Mr. Flatstick have been the most troubling.

So far this week, Tiger has four-putted No. 9, four-putted No. 6 and three-putted Nos. 3, 13 and 16. Anything inside four feet is an adventure.

You take away those, and he's right in this thing, right?

Sure, and if you tell me I can take away that seafood platter combination I had down at Fisherman's Wharf the other night, my belly might not be hanging over my belt these days.

When you flip on the television today to watch the final 18 holes of this wrenching tournament, don't change the station because the 22-year-old with Swooshes all over his body isn't on.

He'll be done by that time, telling us all that he's almost there. Almost where?

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