It was destiny.
Tiger Woods and Roger Federer became fast friends. Nevermind that they connected amidst some controversy when Tiger infamously sat in Fed’s Friends Box at the ‘06 U.S. Open final and rooted for his new Swiss pal against his fellow-American, Andy Roddick.
But that dicey little moment hardly deterred the high profile, not-so-odd couple that proved to be totally simpatico. After all, the two definitive, ahead-of-the-pack superstars of the 21st century were both solitary performers who somehow managed to corral and subdue their fiercely competitive domains.
The Fed-Express (that would be Roger) and the man who just pocketed $10 million by winning his second FedEx Cup (that would be Tiger) are both loyal Nike men who are represented by IMG who mingle with ease amidst royals and A-list celebs.
Beyond all this, Tiger and Fed’s relationship has its own, far deeper dynamic. No other souls — not their wives, their managers, and certainly not us clueless journalists — could really get it; could understand the lonely-at-the-top pathos of their privileged nomadic lifestyles that are completely stripped of any figment of privacy. After all, how could we mere mortals possibly grasp what it was like to live in a fish bowl/room-service universe in which nothing but continual victory was acceptable?
One problematic semifinal match or a single shanked drive into the rough could derail the imposing narrative. A flip, ill-thought answer could lead to a rash of know-it-all headlines. No wonder many a tennis player (think: Wilander, Sampras, Safin, Davydenko) seemed to say, “Never mind, I don’t need all the aggravation that comes from being the alpha male atop the heap.”
Simply put, Tiger and Fed breathed the same rarefied air and spoke the same language. So the Swiss star would gladly walk courses as Tiger did his magical thing and would later visit Tiger on his famously named mega-yacht, “Privacy.” All the while, Tiger confessed that he followed Fed’s results and it was nerve racking having to deal with the drama and trauma of watching big-time tennis, like last year’s Wimby final. After a Fed win, Tiger texted Roger: “Congratulations. Now it’s my turn.”
Ultimately, the two young, life-is-good icons shared more than wealth (Tiger has earned $93 million in prize money and is said to have a net worth of $600 million and is the first athlete to earn over $1 billion in total earnings, while Roger, one of the richest men in Switzerland, has “only” won $55 million on court and has a net worth of merely $100 to $175 million). But their bond is based less on their “is my private jet ready yet” wealth than a shared sensibility only these two leaders of the world’s two itinerant (Demographics-R-Us) country club sports could grasp.
What other athletes have been elevated so high that they are now perched onto stratospheric, solitary pedestals above all the media, the millions and the moguls and are the focus of crazed fans worldwide and the frenzy of our obsessive, heroes-required culture?
In this context, it’s hardly surprising that when reflecting on Tiger, Fed said, “I’ve always been aware that the image that you patiently construct for an entire career can be ruined in a minute.”
No kidding. Just ask Tiger.
His bizarre, after-midnight car accident kick-started an implosion the likes of which haven’t been seen since OJ. Yes, midway through his career, Tiger bravely re-tooled his stroke, came back courageously from the death of his father and major reconstructive knee surgery to win the ‘08 U.S. Open on one leg. But all the while (very much like Roger), he crafted his brand with a meticulous often overcautious care.
While Federer, the child of Swiss and South African parents, subdued his teen temper, overcame the death of his beloved coach, Peter Carter, and crushing early defeats, before going on to win a dazzling 16 majors in just over seven years, Tiger was the child of a Thai mother and an African-American father, who relentlessly pushed and shoved him from early childhood to stardom. A conservative young man of color in a conservative white sport, Tiger was (except when crafting one of his ferocious back-nine runs) more than risk averse. Here was an indrawn, methodical man who gave us none of the activism of Arthur Ashe and — aside from those high intensity fist pumps — offered little of the over-the-top bravado of stars like Serena, Shaq and Lebron. But, boy did he get the job done.
Discipline, on-point laser focus, analytical savvy, that almost frightening competitive fire and icy execution were his calling cards. Far from cute ‘n cuddly, the man was all business. No wonder Fortune 500 companies drooled over the guy who proved to be such a perfect corporate spokesperson. What they didn’t see was the dark side, the betrayal, the sexual excess, the devastating flaws. Such self destruction. Who could imagine?
All the while, Roger — free of any hint of the turmoil that Tiger, Serena and Agassi recently endured — raised his young twins and contended, “There’s a responsibility that comes with what we do. We have the [platform] to do more than hit tennis balls.” So it’s hardy shocking that he conceived and executed a fundraising effort which would raise almost $700 million for Haiti, planned to go to Africa for charity work and (whoops, we almost forgot) marched masterfully to his 16th major in Melbourne.
All the while, his pal Tiger fell from his heavenly perch, to suffer an all but inconceivable, semi-Shakespearean free-fall.
While Roger was down under stroking many a stunning winner en route to yet another Slam, Woods was down in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, at the Pine Grove Behavioral Health and Addiction detox center navigating their Gentle Path program with its “30-task model,” which draws on everything from biopsychosocial assessments to psychiatry and spiritual work, to grief reduction, a ropes course and yoga.
The two great brands of international sports had trended in shockingly different directions.
Okay, put aside the not so incidental detail that Tiger, who once led their inter-sport rivalry 14 majors to 12, now trails 16-14. It’s more that Tiger’s life, his family, career, self-image and reputation were in a shambles, while Roger continues to astound us with his artistry: a singular wonder who embraces triumph and fame with mind boggling regularity and balletic ease, while Tiger seemed little more than a tragic figure, an object of both understandable and cruel ridicule.
Yet, his friend Federer, who was critical of Agassi’s drug use, which he claimed left a cloud over tennis, stood by his man Tiger, encouraging him on the phone and telling the French daily L’Equipe, “He’s my friend and I give him my full support. It’s difficult for him and his family to see their most intimate problems on display everywhere. Tiger needs some calm and soon he’ll become the wonderful golfer we know again.”
So maybe that’s it. Maybe the greatest skills these two athletic geniuses shared was calm, an inner-calm they drew on in times of crisis; a calm the greatest athlete of the last decade now needs to call on — not to blast an 186-yard iron from deep in the rough, onto a sloping green late on Sunday. Rather, he has to go to a very private place — a very real place of quiet and courage, a place of spirit — in hope of resurrecting his wavering career, his broken family and his once-remarkable life.
