Weather, weather, and more weather sent the completion of the final round of the CA Championship to Monday.

Tiger Woods victory string continues until at least then, where it may finally stop.  For this week.  I watched highlights of Mr. Woods third round power lip outs.  All four of them.  He’s only five shots back, so had he not copied Phil Mickelson on the greens another miracle wouldn’t be necessary.  He’d be right there, nipping at Greg Ogilvy’s heels, causing a whole lot of swallowing twice before looking over one’s shoulder.

Ihave to believe that I was not alone in seeing those putting lowlights by Mr. Woods.  I can imagine how that affects the mindsets of Mr. Ogilvy, Adam Scott, Vijay Singh, and the rest of those in contention. Oh man, he is human after all! A chance!  The man is giving me a chance. Thoughts like that make playing one’s own game some much easier than it is when you know the man is out there playing better than you can in your dreams.  Bart Bryant showed me the definition of expecting the inevitable with his response to Mr. Woods putt on 18 at Arnold Palmer’s tournament.  A shake of the head, chuckle and grab your stuff and head for home.

Remember those cartoons where an angel and a devil appeared on a shoulder each giving advice about a situation?    I can’t help but picture a cartoon version of Mr. Woods on the shoulder of the guy in front of him whispering all the while,  I’m right here. Dude, remember I’m watching.  You want to beat me you better play perfect.  Which might still not be good enough.  Tough to not listen to that little voice even when you’re trying to concentrate on your own game.  Especially with the history of the guy chasing you.  Mentally tough separates the men from the boys,  and when the man casts a Bunyanesque shadow it takes some kind of tough to stay centered on just playing the game the way you know to play the game. 

Interestingly, with so many guys having great scoring days the man playing mediocre is only 7 shots back.  Ah to possess that kind of mediocrity where the leaders still see me in the rear view.  My mediocrity leaves me pleading for someone to put me out of my misery.  Heck, it leaves anyone playing with me to beg for me to be put out of their misery.  There may or may not be a miracle on Monday,  but who’s willing to bet against it happening?  Not many I imagine.