Chapter 2

Universal Studios Lot

Universal City, California

October 12, 1981

On the Universal Studios Lot, five-year-old Tiger is unimpressed by making his second national television appearance.

“After all,” he remarks, “golfers get on television lots of times.”

Taking the stage in a red-and-white striped polo and a Spider-Man cap, Tiger perches on the lap of NFL great Fran Tarkenton, who quarterbacked the Minnesota Vikings to three Super Bowl appearances and now cohosts ABC’s talent showcase, That’s Incredible!, alongside singer John Davidson and actress Cathy Lee Crosby.

Over footage of Tiger driving, chipping, putting—both on Earl’s homemade driving range and on the Navy Golf Course—and dancing next to his father when he sinks the ball in the hole, Tarkenton says, “On a golf course, Tiger has the kind of poise and confidence that would be the envy of most golfers ten times his age. His knowledge of the game is truly amazing.”

So are his sporting goals, especially for a kid just starting kindergarten.

“When I’m going to be twenty, I’m gonna beat Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson,” Tiger says as the words INCREDIBLE KID! flash across the screen.

After the filming of That’s Incredible!, Earl watches a seventeen-year-old fan approach Tiger for an autograph.

“He didn’t know how to write, so he printed,” Earl says.

Not everyone is as confident in Tiger’s future. After the taping, cohost Davidson puts the question to Tarkenton: “You think this kid will ever make it?”

“He has no chance,” Tarkenton replies. “Because he’s got one of these doting fathers who’s going to drive him, and he’s gonna end up hating golf and hating sports and you’ll never hear from him again.”

The headline of a small piece in Golf Digest’s People in Golf segment reads: 5-YEAR-OLD TIGER—HE’S INCREDIBLE.

The article makes it into J. Hughes Norton III’s clip file. As an agent with Cleveland-based International Management Group (IMG), Norton makes it his business to identify potential rising stars in sports.

Norton, an 8-handicap golfer who played hockey at Yale, has been with IMG for around eight years, since 1972. He first learned about sports marketing as a student at Harvard Business School. The IMG founder and president, Mark McCormack—who started the company in 1960 based on a handshake deal with golf superstar Arnold Palmer and eventually went on to represent Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player—spoke to an entrepreneurship class Norton was taking. When McCormack returned to campus a few months later, Norton asked for, then landed, a job at IMG.

Norton travels to Los Angeles to meet the kid from the Golf Digest clip. In Cypress, he finds young Tiger riding his tricycle in front of the house on Teakwood Street.

Earl does the talking. “I believe that the first Black man who’s a really good golfer is going to make a hell of a lot of money.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Woods,” Norton says in agreement. “That’s why I’m here.”

The Today show is broadcasting “on location in Southern California” at Calabasas Country Club.

“Eldrick Tiger Woods,” says anchor Bryant Gumbel, introducing his guest. “The most amazing five-year-old golfer you have ever seen.”

Though Tiger, whose ball cap reads SUPER KID, is making his third national TV appearance while still in kindergarten, Tida insists, “He’s just a regular kid that loves to go out and play golf.”

Play to win, she means. “One thing he love most,” says Tida, whose native language is Thai, “is competition. He love to have somebody to play with him. He love to compete with even his pro or his dad when, uh, they’re playing putting.”

The camera cuts back to Tiger.

“Would you like to be a pro golfer?” Gumbel asks.

Tiger looks off to one side, considering the question.

“Yes,” he finally says.

Duran fits Tiger for more clubs, but the young golfer’s set is not yet complete.

“You know what, Rudy?” Tiger says. “We didn’t get a one-iron—I want a one-iron.”

“A one-iron?” Duran says. “You’re not gonna generate enough clubhead to get a one-iron airborne. You’ll just hit it into the ground.”

Duran watches as Tiger takes Earl’s full-length 1-iron to the range and rips the ball.

On his sixth birthday, December 30, 1981, Tiger tries out his new irons.

Before today’s small exhibition match at Redlands Country Club, he draws an admiring crowd on the practice range. “Does he ever get upset?” a woman asks.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Duran tells her, adding, “He gets a two-shot penalty when he throws a club, so he doesn’t do that too often.”

The birthday boy is completely focused on hitting the balls until his coach asks, “What do you do when you want to hit it low, Tiger?”

“Stay off the right foot.”

“What kind of club would you use?”

Pause. “Five-iron or 4-iron.”

“You know what’s going on.” Duran nods approvingly.

Tiger, Earl, and Rudy Duran pile into Duran’s white Porsche for a trip out to San Jacinto, around eighty-three miles east of Los Angeles, where Soboba Springs Golf Course has extended an exciting invitation.

Six-year-old Tiger doesn’t really grasp the significance of “playing the great Sam Snead.” The seventy-year-old Virginia golfer known as Slammin’ Sam, whose swing is “so sweet, you could pour it out of a syrup bottle,” is the winningest player on the PGA Tour, notching eighty-two wins in a twenty-nine-year career.

They’re playing the 17th and 18th holes of the desert course. On 17, Tiger’s tee shot fades short. He wades into a creek to play his ball.

“What are you doing?” Snead yells.

Tiger looks up, confused. “I’m going to hit the shot,” he says.

“Take it out and hit it again,” Snead tells him. “Just pick it up and drop it. Let’s go on.”

It’s a generous offer, but it doesn’t sit right with Tiger.

“My dad always taught me you play it as it is, there’s no such thing as winter rules,” Tiger insists. Earl and Duran don’t intervene as Tiger pulls out his iron, miraculously “playing it out of the water and making bogey.”

The move impresses Snead, who shakes his head in admiration even after Tiger bogeys again on 18, giving the duo a final score of par-par and 2 over.

The champion, in his trademark Stetson Madrigal coconut-straw porkpie hat, offers to sign Tiger’s scorecard.

In return, the boy in the cap reading SUPER KID signs his own autograph for Snead.

Snead recognizes the talent.

“I’ve worked for years to get the hitch out of this swing of mine,” Snead says, “and along comes this kid. I think I’ll toss my clubs in a lake someplace.”