Indomitable adj. Incapable of being overcome, subdued, or vanquished; unconquerable.
That sums up Tiger Woods' victory at the 2008 U.S. Open. I witnessed every stroke of the tournament with complete and total awe. It was the Thrilla in Manilla, Michael Jordan's "flu game" and Braveheart all rolled into one. As a writer, I was mesmerized. As a golfer, I was awestruck. Unfolding before me on the television was a script being written stroke by stroke. Driver as keyboard. Putter as pen. An epic battle of a man's mind versus his body, versus the competition and versus the very ground he walked on. I contemplated making that viewing the last sporting event I would ever watch. And 24 hours later, I regretted not making that decision as I watched the Lakers wilt like drunken lettuce against the Celtics. On Wednesday morning, I immersed myself in highlights of Tiger's unforgettable display of indomitable will to sear them deeper into my memory so that maybe, just maybe, I can use those memories one day to draw down on his kind of strength to sink a putt (or maybe to save my life if ever attacked by Ninja Sumo gangsters in some dark alley).
Three days after Tiger's victory the magnitude of his accomplishment fully revealing itself to me. He climbed Mount Everest on a fractured leg. He stood toe to toe with all comers for five days and on the final day, in an arena filled with more than 20,000 fans, with no competitors left standing, he held the trophy high. He stood alone, triumphant, even then not letting on the extent of his injuries lest another rise up to fight him.
All week long during the tournament telecast, Nike ads featured scenes of Tiger and his late father, with an Earl Woods' voiceover: “I’d say, ‘Tiger, I promise you that you’ll never meet another person as mentally tough as you in your entire life.’ And he hasn’t. And he never will.”
That wasn’t a commercial. It was prophesy fulfilled.
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