Tiger riding to golf's rescue in the nick of time

Perched on cold marble steps on a frigid Sunday in the nation's capital, under the fixed gaze of old Abe Lincoln, two famous figures and pivotal leaders of their constituencies shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

Not long thereafter, one of the most important economic stimulus packages ever conceived was hauled out for public view.

Tiger Woods was heroic at the Open, but having him healthy and upright is better for the PGA Tour in the long run. (AP)

Fret not, this ain't about politics. Forget the new president and all the carp about TARP. We're talking about the other guy.

Tiger Woods wore a trendy sports coat when he appeared at the Obama-rama celebration last month in Washington. When he turns up early next week at the Match Play Championship for his first PGA Tour event in eight months -- and only his second tournament since the Masters last April -- he ought to be wearing a superhero cape.

If Woods had waited until Easter to return from the longest layoff of his career, it would have been only slightly more compelling. No religious heresy intended, but the world No. 1 clearly represents a savior in spikes at a time when the golfing masses need to be led back to the promised land.

Woods said that his cell phone went into meltdown because of the text-messages received from his professional peers, who know all too well what he means to the economic well-being of the tour. So does everybody else. Woods was described as a one-man economic stimulus package for the game, which is limping along like he was, pre-surgery.

"I don't know about that," Woods said Friday. "As far as off the golf course, and whatever appeal, or vitality of the tour, or as you said, [being] the stimulus package, those are things I feel are out of my hands.

"I can only control what I do on the golf course."

More than ever, his control needs to be surgically precise. Finally, golf's franchise player is returning after a lengthy recovery from reconstructive knee surgery, his swing slightly tweaked, a ligament transplanted from one body part to another, his goals unchanged. But consider what has changed since Woods left the landscape.

What hasn't?

Woods' comeback, given the greater context affecting golf and beyond, brings to mind the plaintive lyric from a song penned four decades ago: "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio, a nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Woo-woo-woo."

In the song, DiMaggio represents all that was good about America -- the purity, class and grace that is so sorely missed. Woods embodies some of those same characteristics, but at this point in the country's timeline, we'd all settle for a return to the feel-good glory days of early 2008, not 1968, when the tune was released.

Fairly or not, much in the past has been heaped on the shoulders of Woods, often called the world's most recognized sports figure. The weight just increased by about tenfold.

The tour knows it needs Woods and had a pretty fair idea before the injury that he'd turned the circuit into a one-note opera. When he played, sidewalk sports fans tuned in. Grandmothers cared. City slickers and country bumpkins watched. His brave playoff battle with Rocco Mediate at the U.S. Open last summer had folks calling in sick to work on Monday, lest they miss the oceanside duel, with Woods hobbling along on a broken leg, recording his most memorable win ever.

Now the fractures lie elsewhere, especially when Woods doesn't play. Take a gander at the TV ratings for the past eight months, which have been close to abysmal. Networks have lost a bundle broadcasting tour events, and roughly a dozen tour sponsors are in iffy financial condition or on the cusp of bankruptcy as contract renewal talks already are under way in several key cities.

Tournament attendance has visibly dropped, just as rounds played at courses nationwide have fallen. We are all the worse for wear financially since Woods last played, if not worn out completely, but golf has taken a huge whack. A resurgent Woods can stanch the bleeding.

So, this isn't just a return for Woods, but hopefully, a return to some semblance of normalcy. Order must be restored. We need our cultural lynchpins, darn it.

They pay guys like me to provide perspective, but I'm hunting high and low for parallels. In his circle, Woods' overdue return is perhaps akin to Elvis getting out of the Army, the lifting of the ban against Muhammad Ali or Jordan coming back to the NBA, the difference being that the surround sound wasn't so blaringly bad for the other trio.

Eight months feel more like eight years given how much the world landscape has changed. The economy has collapsed, unemployment has skyrocketed and even Woods' acre-thick wallet has thinned, the result of well-chronicled problems with personal sponsors such as Buick, or Stanford Financial, an underwriter of his Washington, D.C., event.

When Woods went down, the tour was hoping for both the development of new stars over the remainder of 2008 and that established players like Phil Mickelson, Ernie Els or Jim Furyk would fill the void. None of them did anything. Sergio Garcia and Padraig Harrington did their best to capture attention, but didn't move the Richter Scale much in the States. Anthony Kim, Dustin Johnson and Camilo Villegas, promising 20-something players, each won twice in Woods' absence, but it remains to be seen whether they have the chops to play on stage with Mozart himself.

But you can forget the supporting cast for now, because the sport needs Woods to kick butt and take down names -- and by that, I mean the names of icons such as Jack Nicklaus and Sam Snead, guys who still occupy the hall of records ahead of him. Woods has won 14 majors, four fewer than the Bear. He has 65 PGA Tour wins, third behind Nicklaus (73) and Snead (82).

For years, fans have wanted Woods to develop a worthy, sustained rival. At the moment, at least, it would be best if he just obliterated everyone in sight. Perhaps he will, too.

Woods believes the surgery, which corrected a nagging knee injury that dates back to college, has left him steeled like never before to dominate. He's 33, just entering his prime. Nicklaus won seven majors after he turned 33.

This is going to sound over the top, but it's nearly impossible to overstate his importance to golf as a sport and an industry. When Woods shook hands with Barack Obama last month in Washington, under the gaze of Honest Abe, he was as much a symbol of hope in his circle as they are in theirs.