Chapter 25

Las Vegas Invitational

Las Vegas, Nevada

October 2–6, 1996

Earl Woods makes a prediction: Tiger’s first PGA Tour win, he tells friends, will happen in Vegas.

In a role reversal, Tiger’s mom, Tida, makes the trip from California to watch her son play in person, while Earl stays home in Cypress to watch on TV.

Twenty-year-old Tiger is still too young to legally gamble in a casino, but the invitational has the feel of a giant roulette wheel. The five-round, ninety-hole Las Vegas Invitational tournament, now known as the Shriners Hospitals for Children Open, will be played on three local courses: the Las Vegas Hilton Country Club, the Desert Inn, and TPC Summerlin.

This year, Las Vegas has seen singer Wayne Newton’s twenty-five thousandth Vegas concert and magician duo Siegfried 27 under for the tournament—then heads to the driving range, taking most of the spectators with him.

“I think I had 40 people following me,” says Love of his last holes, “and 20 of them I knew.”

At the 16th, Love pulls even, then misses birdie tries on 17 and 18. The tournament will be decided in a playoff. It was just last week at Callaway Gardens that Tiger told Love he hoped the two of them would “go head-to-head down the stretch someday.”

Here we go, Love marvels. He got what he wanted.

On the first playoff hole, Tiger’s second shot lands him eighteen feet from the pin. Love’s goes left into a bunker. Tiger’s birdie putt leaves him a tap-in for par. The best Love can do from the bunker is bogey.

The crowd goes wild at witnessing the young superstar’s first tour win, on only his fifth outing, barely a month after turning pro.

Butch Harmon and Tida Woods rush out to take turns embracing Tiger.

As for Earl, “I will call and talk to him,” Tiger says, adding, “if he is there. He is probably out playing golf.”

“I hope this win will tell people that he is the real one,” Tida tells reporters. “Every time the curtain is up, he’s right there. Encore every time.”

Tiger, Love says, is “not playing for the money. He never thought, I have to make another one hundred and some thousand dollars to make the top 125. He’s trying to win. He thinks about winning and nothing else. I like the way he thinks.”

Not that the money is meaningless to Tiger. As Love talks with the assembled reporters, Tiger’s in a quieter corner of the media tent with golf writer Tim Dahlberg, who’s on deadline for the Associated Press.

Huddled over Dahlberg’s computer, the reporter shows his story to Tiger, asking, “Anything you like?”

Tiger points to the place where Dahlberg has noted his winnings—$297,000.

“I like that,” he says with a grin.

His victory means a two-year exemption on the tour, and today’s earnings have raised his total to $437,195, boosting his ranking on the money list up to number 40.

In a classic Las Vegas photo-op, tournament officials pose Tiger between two showgirls—dancers from Bally’s show Jubilee!, costumed in spangles—then hand him an oversize check. The win also brings another prize, one that money can’t buy—an invitation to the 1997 Masters.

Tiger decides to keep the giant check. He’ll have it framed and hang it in his office, where he’ll be logging hours to fulfill his $2.2 million contract with Warner Books to write a golf instructional and an autobiography. A generous provision allows him between three and six years to deliver the manuscripts.

And he’s still processing today’s win. As for Vegas, Tiger has a return date in mind. Next year, he says, “I’ll be legal. I can actually do some stuff around here.”

Master of ceremonies and local golf writer Jack Sheehan reads his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Sheehan says, “how about a round of applause for the richest college dropout in America?”

Tiger is quick to correct him. “I think Bill Gates has me on that.”

Are you kidding me? Sheehan thinks, then, He’s right. Gates dropped out of Harvard his freshman year. It was almost like he thought about that beforehand.

“Tiger, this is your fifth tournament as a professional. Are you surprised the victory came this soon?” Sheehan asks.

“To be honest with you, Jack,” the twenty-year-old replies, “I’m surprised it took this long.”