In his healthy prime, Tiger Woods was Mike Tyson in a red shirt and slacks. He arrived at the tee box as if he were stepping through the ropes and into the ring, where cowering, wide-eyed opponents all but prepped themselves for the knockout.
Woods is no longer that heavyweight champ who rules through intimidation. He still has muscles, yes, but they don't look as forbidding on a balding man made vulnerable by age, gravity, surgery and the disclosure of his own personal failings. And yet a diminished Woods can still win golf tournaments. He can still make history without what had been the most valuable club in his bag:
His aura of invincibility.