He sat 5 years at 79.
The greatest of all time (according to most) did not win a game for 5 years, until yesterday. We were there. It was insane. I’ve never been in a crowd of people running like that. We actually happened to be on the wrong side of the runners. Having carefully planned out our stake, we were no match for the ones leading that charge.
Can you imagine if that was your life? I’ve been mulling over the idea for almost 24 hours — and I sort of feel bad for him. I would not choose to experience a moment of greatness in exchange for all of the other moments in life, all of the other seemingly meaningless yet truest definition of living. The things that truly matter in life are consistently built out of moments. The milestones are simply the tip of the iceberg. Yet when you reach the pinnacle of success in such a public manner every other moment is sucked out of your life, in an instant. They no longer belong to you. They belong to the stampede-ers, and even the folks protecting you from them are simply stealing all the ones those behind them wished they had. Noting is ordinary, any longer.
So, yes, I feel bad for him. You can’t have an extraordinary life without ordinary. It’s not worth the price of admittance.
I actually even understand the affairs now. Those indiscretions, made him ordinary. Surely a man of his level of talent understood what he was risking, but he also understood that it was worth it.
It must be great to be Tiger Woods. But it’s reeeeeeeeally great to be extraordinarily ordinary.