Tiger Woods roars again with Tour Championship victory.

Tiger Woods roars again with Tour Championship victory.

A couple of years ago many of our most reliable authorities on golf would tell you quite categorically that Tiger Woods was by far the best golfer they'd ever seen. The kid was simply unplayable. He could play the game with his eyes closed and still sweep all comers aside with a disdainful sweep of a golf club. Who were they to wax lyrical about the great Jack Nicklaus. the incomparable Gary Player, the peerless Arnold Player and the wonderfully humorous Lee Trevino when, quite clearly, Tiger Woods had everything in his locker?

Yesterday on another sun soaked day at the East Lake club in Atlanta, Georgia, the precocious child became the most mature of men. Tiger Woods had clinched his 14th victory on the Majors circuit and there is a widespread feeling that once again Woods was back and ready to roll up his sleeves. Sport can often be cruel and unforgiving but when Woods career seemed to reach rock bottom nobody thought he'd pick himself up, dust himself down and return to the dazzling glare of the public limelight.

The recent calamities that have so bedevilled Woods private life are slowly seeping into a distant corner of his mind. The dirty linen has been left to hang out to dry and the sleaze, so extensively chronicled, had  just been another chapter in his life.  The one night stands, passionate affairs and dangerous liaisons are something Woods may not want to be reminded of. His almost embarrassing admission of several infidelities at that famous press conference are not the kind of subject matter that anybody in the public eye would willingly want to revisit. Woods though bounced back on a hot Sunday afternoon  in Atlanta with a masculine vengeance.

A two stroke victory against some of the toughest and strongest players in the world must have been so immensely gratifying that any of his doubters may have to revise their long held opinion of a player who at his best, remains in the highest of classes. Throughout the day Woods frequently rolled back the years with golf that was sublime, driving from the tee that was stunningly powerful and the kind of putting that left his opponents desperately scrambling for some kind of explanation.

From the moment he drove from the first hole, it was obvious that Woods had one or two things to get off his chest, to address misconceptions, redress wrongs and release problems from a mind that may have been tormented. It was indeed the Tiger Woods we once knew and this was no disappointment. On practically every hole Woods driving from the tee was relentlessly joyous, natural, off the cuff, a work of art, made to measure and as the ball travelled through seemingly innumerable continents to the putting greens it almost seemed that Woods had planned it that way, so effortless had it all been.

Wearing that bright red shirt and dark trousers, Woods, now ageing gracefully, was a picture of composure. Legs slightly askance on some of his tee shots, Woods shuffled his wrists, clenched his driver and with eyes as focused as an owl, Tiger swivelled his hips and swung the club with a huge and wide follow through of his body. The ball was hit with almost surreal hostility, flying and flying through the air until eventually the whole bird community began to scatter furiously for cover.

The ball plopped down on the fairways as if relieved that Woods had just got it out of his system. It was magnificent driving that sent the ball so far down the fairway that at some point you could almost hear the hole in the distance calling. Woods, as we know, is a perfectionist who demands so much of himself that it's a wonder whether he can ever be completely satisfied with his game.

Of course there were the cries of despair when the ball didn't quite land in the spot he thought it would. Of course there was a need for self betterment, that constant search for a quality he knew just didn't exist. And yet Woods kept on privately criticising himself, full of self chastisement, anger, almost cursing himself when the shots went astray or the putting had let him down.

But then it must have occurred that this sun lit day in Georgia might just be the ultimate remedy to everything that had gone so terribly wrong before. Gloves neatly hanging out of his back pocket and that remarkable concentration at its most intense, Woods powered his way around the East Lake with an almost uncanny mastery of a golf course. Occasionally he was irritable and tetchy but then he just got on with the task in hand, eventually showing once again why many years ago he was so admired and acclaimed by all of his devoted followers.

It did seem that all of those missing and wasted years had now been left behind him. It was time to  indulge in just a spot of reinvention, forget about those unfortunate relationships and try to piece together the remnants of a game that  looked as if it had fallen down the deepest of drains. Now though Tiger Woods had fully repaired the damage and demonstrated to his loyal public that he can still hit a golf ball in a way that a few others can do on their day.

And then onto the final 18th green. With several pars to his credit, Woods huddled over the ball for the last time on the putting green, feet almost locked together, arms ever so slightly bent in wondrous anticipation and putter next to him like an old acquaintance at the clubhouse bar. He moved those soft hands and gently stroked the ball into a welcoming hole. Cue massive cheering from the Georgia multitudes.

Finally, Tiger Woods had got it absolutely right and how the crowd were lapping it up. He raised his arms and the smile was as wide as Georgia. The cap was firmly secure, the evening was embracing him in a kind of warm recognition of his achievements and it was Woods day. He could still swing a golf club, still please the purists and still display that magic touch. This was the day Tiger Woods knew that golf  had never really deserted him. We can only hope that this Tiger will keep roaring, proving  once again that even sport can shine a favourable light on the temporarily downtrodden. It must be hoped that the good times will roll for one of America's favourite sons.