Late 1997:
I sit down to dinner with Tiger, Kelli Kuehne, and Trip Kuehne in a
booth at some sort of informal restaurant. This was just after Tiger
and Kelli had been partners in a joint PGA/LPGA event, I think the
JC Penney Classic. Trip, who had played against Tiger in the finals
of the 1995 US Amateur, had carried his sister Kelli's bag in this
tournament. I proceeded to ask them all questions about this
tournament. I asked Trip if it was weird being a caddy in Tiger's
group after being his adversary in a major championship only two
years before. I'm sure I asked similar questions of Tiger and Kelli.
Although I can't recall any more specific questions, I remember
having the feeling that I was having a very lucid conversation with
the three of them for an entire meal. It was a very realistic and
incredible dream. I also asked the three of them about Kelli and Trip's other sibling, Hank. They all said that Hank was coming around and would be dangerous very soon. After this, Hank won the 1998 US Amateur, thus proving that this dream was a premonition as well as a fantasy.
Early 1998:
I'm following Tiger closely in the gallery of a PGA Tour event. I
am actually inside of the ropes, on the course, but trying to hide
so that I don't bother Tiger. The hole is a long par 5, uphill.
Tiger has about 280 yards to the green, and usually he would be able
reach from that distance, but unfortunately he has a very bad lie
with the ball just above the lip of a bunker and easily a foot above
his feet. He should really just punch this back out to the fairway
so that he can make an easy par. But does he? No, because he's fucking Tiger Woods. He thinks he can do anything, so he whips out his driver and is about to make a hack at the green when I yell, "What the hell are you doing?" I hate it when Tiger does that. I wish he would just tone down his game a little and not try to be so aggressive all the time. In my opinion he would never lose if he could learn how to manage his game properly. He stops mid-back swing, looks at me like I'm a complete idiot, readdresses the ball and takes a total hack swing and the ball goes out of bounds. I was right. He was wrong. So after his round he finds me in the clubhouse, and tells me that I was right. We have a couple of beers and talk for awhile. We become best buds in the matter of a few minutes. He tells me that he's sick of people just kissing his ass all the time and that what he would really like is for someone to be a true friend and be honest with him about his game, his life, his career, etc.
Mid 1998:
I'm on the golf course caddying for somebody in Tiger's group. I think it was Mark O'Meara but I'm not sure. Anyway, whoever I'm caddying for gets injured and can't continue his round. So I start playing for him with Tiger as my partner against Tom Watson and Greg Norman. I make a key putt on 13 to close out the match and Tiger gives me a big high-five. Norman offers to be my caddy.
