Tiger Woods, Fuzzy Zoeller pairing leaves tension
in the air
By Charlie Vincent / Knight Ridder Newspapers
AUGUSTA, Ga. -- A year ago a funny man said an unfunny thing.
Fuzzy Zoeller joked about the food Tiger Woods might order
at the champions dinner after winning the 1997 Masters. And nobody
laughed.
Zoeller thought he was being witty; others thought he was being
racist; Tiger Woods -- at first -- didn't know what to think.
Woods had been quoted in a national magazine, just a few weeks
earlier, telling off-color stories with a racial twist, so you
might think it would be difficult for him to get outraged at what
Zoeller had said.
But America has got no sense of humor about race. Not in public,
anyway. Stories that draw laughter in locker rooms, from athletes
of all colors, are scandalous out in the open. Maybe that means
we are too insensitive in private; maybe it means we are too uptight
in public.
I'm not smart enough to know which.
But whatever it means, Woods got enough feedback that he eventually
expected an apology of some sort. Zoeller eventually gave it and
somewhere along the way lost a lot of his endorsements, including
Kmart.
Any apologies -- and any acceptances -- went on in private,
and both players said life had gone on, all was well and that
what happened a year ago was behind them.
When they were matched in Friday's second round of the 1998
Masters, along with Colin Montgomerie, the gallery at America's
most prestigious golf event wanted to see the evidence of healing.
I don't know what America wants from these two, but the mood
of the big crowd around the practice green at Augusta National,
the mood of the thousands that lined the fairways and followed
them around this cool afternoon, seemed to indicate they would
like to see some sort of public peace sign, some sign that acknowledged
that even if we don't always understand each other, that we can
accept each other and forgive each other.
I was told they nodded at the driving range, a staking out
of space as much as an acknowledgement. If they showed that much
recognition on the driving range, they never duplicated it in
public again until the round was over.
On the practice green they did an intricate dance, one moving
this way to avoid being where the other was. Woods' caddie, Fluff
Cowan, ambled over to say hello to Zoeller, and Montgomerie mixed
with both.
But Zoeller, puffing a cigarette at one side of the spacious
green, kept away from Woods -- who was smiling and listening to
his coach, Butch Harmon -- on another part of the green.
There was tension in the air. The crowd applauded politely
when they stepped to the first tee, but there were no raucous
shouts, no enthusiastic ovations, not even any taking of sides,
just an electric feeling of anticipation left unrealized.
And when they finished the first hole and walked to the second
tee, they did not walk in a group, three players and three caddies;
they spaced their exit from the green so none of the players was
in proximity to the others. And as they passed, the crowd watched
in silence.
First was Woods, striding purposefully, looking straight ahead.
Then came Montgomerie -- one of the world's best golfers --
but here still an outsider.
Then came Zoeller, who stopped briefly to chat with a fan in
a straw hat, a large piece of chewing tobacco in the right cheek.
A fan shouted out a muted cry of encouragement, and Zoeller replied
halfheartedly: "All right, thank you."
If they were going to become pals, the driving range or the
practice green was the place to do it, because in competition,
there is little place for camaraderie or fellowship.
In competition, it is every man for himself.
Once upon a time Isiah Thomas and Magic Johnson were the best
of buddies, but when they played in the NBA finals, Thomas slapped
Johnson, and his old pal hit him back.
War is hell, and professional sport is as close to war as it
is to a game.
Once they teed off Friday, in the crisp and windy afternoon,
each had his hands full with the course.
Woods shot even-par for the day -- one under for the tournament
-- but fell four strokes behind the leaders -- Fred Couples and
David Duval. Zoeller took a two-over 74, leaving him six strokes
back, and Montgomerie ballooned to a 75.
When the final putt was made, Woods and Zoeller did what many
golfers do -- they shook hands. Zoeller and Montgomerie first,
then Montgomerie and Woods, and finally, Woods and Zoeller.
Then Zoeller slapped Woods on the back as they walked to the
scorer's tent.
There is this huge problem with the race issue in our country.
Some feel we are making too much of it; some feel we are not making
enough. And hardly anyone feels we are getting it just right.
Woods didn't talk to the press immediately after the match
Friday, and Zoeller, who has tried to closet himself from the
media since he arrived here, double-timed it to the players' private
upstairs locker room in the clubhouse.
"Everything was lovely," Zoeller said to the score
of writers trailing in his wake and throwing questions in his
direction. "Everything was wonderful. . . . No big deal.
Don't make a big deal out of it.
"He is a person like everybody else."
If ever we can all look at each other -- black, white and brown,
Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Jew, atheist and agnostic, gay and
straight -- and say that and mean it, we won't have to concern
ourselves with this issue any more.
----
(c) 1998, Detroit Free Press.
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