Masters 2019: How Tiger Woods found happiness by relinquishing a world that was always his own

After all these years, Tiger has found peace in learning to take satisfaction from a sport in which he is still able to compete

By now Tiger Woods has come to the realisation that a world he carved out for his own, dragged to unseen heights and transformed into a one-man serenade, can never be the same again, not even for him.

Even at the Tour Championship, eradicating all questions of psyche in a comeback so ethereal he quite literally parted a sea of supporters on the 18th fairway in Atlanta, the echoes sent distress signals throughout his wearying body for weeks to come. A whitewash at the Ryder Cup proved that the rights to that throne are forever deceased for this is not his Masters anymore as it was billed in the immediate aftermath of that fabled victory.

It’s now the provision of his successors, Rory McIlroy, Dustin Johnson, Patrick Reed and Jordan Spieth, the heirs who inherited a supersized sport in his absence and proceeded to divvy it amongst themselves with wavering degrees of success. In all likelihood, no one will take to golf with such cold and clinical devastation again in our lifetimes. And despite the astonishing trophy-haul, squalid unravelling and subsequent resurrection, that is the professional – and commercial – legacy that will live longest in the memories of others.

So as Tiger Woods strolled into the Augusta press room with his always a tad robotic gait, there was less the sense that his aura somehow belonged to another galaxy – perhaps, just a distant planet. When he evoked shades of Rory McIlroy, claiming to the 152 seats staring back at him: “I don’t need to win again, but I really want to,” there is weighted truth in that. It is not soothsaying, but a statement of fact. For Woods, there is nothing left to prove. He may never surpass Jack Nicklaus’ major tally, but that’s a harsh reality he’s come to accept over these last 11 major-less years

Has the benefit of new perspective brought him happiness? When Woods declared himself “a walking miracle” at this tournament a year ago after spinal fusion surgery, souped up on painkillers, epidurals and cortisone injections, it was relief that masqueraded as joy. Nine months prior, when those same pills had compounded an addiction and desperate plea for help, there was no sparkle to be seen behind the eyes which drooped like curtains against an orange jumpsuit. There was no glee to be sourced from momentous near misses at The Open and US PGA Championship, nor at the prospect of funnelling worthless box office against Phil Mickelson on the horizon.

No, it was only as Woods winced to stop a tear escaping down his cheek, rolled his head back and allowed his brow to soak in the cheer of the sky in that iconic scene at the Tour Championship, that you started to wonder if he had finally deciphered pure happiness for the first time since his last victory five years before. After all, it was just three days after that last title in August 2013 that Woods informed the media that “the only thing which means a lot to me is winning. If I have more wins than anybody else, then it’s been a good year.”

By that token, victory seemed to have a cathartic effect on Woods, not by reinvigorating his extraordinary self-belief – of course, it would – but in finally reliving success, he exorcised that need for it. At 43, after that redemptive turn, Woods has effused the sense that he is now simply savouring a type of joie de vivre he could never before comprehend.

It is not to say he will not contend at Augusta. On only six of his 19 visits has he finished outside of the top-10. And, as he reiterated yesterday, he knows this course like a “library”. But there can be little doubt that he is now thriving on the last pillages of his physicality. A rare brilliance that has ransacked its own vehicle, even if the instincts will always remain. “The hardest part is I just can’t practice like I used to,” Woods said, with no hint of irony on Tuesday as he headed out to the range. “My back gets sore. I just can’t log in the time that I used to and that goes with every part of my game.

Tiger Woods celebrates after winning the Tour Championship (Getty)

After the most gut-wrenching trials – some self-inflicted, others treated as a type of karmic retaliation – Woods has found a new way to be happy. Victory at the Tour Championship did not somehow turn him soft, only mortal. A man who has conquered a ghoulish parody of his former self to complete a Lazarus-like return and finally appease his own ‘win at all costs’ mantra. That in itself is something of a miracle.

So maybe, after all these years, we are not only seeing a Tiger Woods who has been tamed, wounded by experience, dimpled by love or whichever interpretation we choose to take. We are seeing a man who has claimed satisfaction in a world where he is still able to compete, rather than one in which he dominates. And, in that sense, while of course he would still love to win and will throw everything at the Green Jacket, he hasn’t felt the same need to since September 23.