By Bob Markus

I'm sitting here trying to think of something different to say about Tiger Woods and all that keeps running through my mind, like the ribbon that runs at the bottom of your screen when you're watching Sports Center, is book titles. When I think about Tiger Woods I think "An American Tragedy" or "Paradise Lost." Portraying Woods as a tragic figure on the face of it seems a stretch. The man, after all, is still a billionaire, and, as he proved once again on Sunday, still one of the world's best golfers. But, as they say, the bigger they come "The Harder They Fall." Woods' plunge from grace was spectacular because of the distance he had to fall. That is the essence of Greek tragedy is it not? The fall of the Gods, the fatal flaw (see Achilles); only the mighty need apply.

Tiger's performance in the Masters was difficult to quantify. For three rounds he did what he always says is his goal: He gave himself a chance. He sometimes didn't look good doing it, but Sunday found him in the next to last pairing, four strokes out of the lead, but with only two men to catch. Even after three early bogeys dropped him seven shots back he wasn't through. An improbable eagle two on the par four seventh hole was the launching pad for one of those runs that used to send chills through his fellow competitors. Not this time. His bid for a fifth green jacket came to an end on the 14th when he turned what looked like a sure birdie into a bogey by three putting from 4 1/2 feet. A god no more, but merely a mortal. Still, he eagled the next hole and birdied the last--and fished his ball out of the cup with a gesture of disgust that told us all we needed to know about his mental state. For most golfers who had gone through what Woods had gone through, a tie for fourth in the Masters would seem to be a positive result. But for Tiger Woods these days there are no moral victories (pun very definitely intended).

Then there was Phil Mickelson. For all the hand wringing over poor Tiger's problems and the mental stress they caused, it must not be overlooked that he brought it all on himself. Mickelson's inner concerns ran much deeper than Tiger's, which made his ultimate triumph that much sweeter. While Woods was worrying about which sleeping partner would slither out from underneath the bed next, Mickelson was fearing for his wife Amy's life. The contrast between the two men could not have been any clearer than it was on this magnificent Masters Sunday. While Amy Mickelson, still fighting breast cancer, greeted her husband with an emotional embrace after his popular victory, Tiger's wife Erin was an ocean away, both physically and symbolically, leaving Woods (I hope) alone to deal with what he considered failure. As it turned out, Woods would have needed a 64 on Sunday to even tie Mickelson, who pretty much wrapped up the tournament with his audacious approach through a gap in the trees to within eagle range on the par five 13th. That he missed the short eagle putt is irrelevant.

What is relevant is that Mickelson, at least for now, is Woods' equal. He appears, at last, to have enough confidence in his game to take on Tiger at any venue. He still has to prove it, however. Sunday's victory left him still 10 major titles behind Woods, although his third green jacket is only one fewer than Woods has in his closet. Mickelson quite likely won some of Woods' former fans with his Masters performance. Many of Woods' fans, however, are standing by their man. I have to confess I'm one of them. Does that mean I condone his indiscretions? No, but it's not up to me to condemn them, either. I'm a Tiger Woods fan because he's the closest thing to perfection that we've seen on a golf course. I root for the story. I admire talent. Frank Sinatra was not a very nice man, I've been told, but I'd still rather listen to him sing than to Perry Como.