Why Tiger Is The Last Of Sport apos;s Great Corinthians And Els Is Credit To The Game Of Golf

THROUGHOUT the year I have been compiling a compendium of the most stupid questions put to sportsmen or women by TV, radio or newspaper interviewers.



The file is now pretty thick and I fear it contains several British entries, particularly following the recent Commonwealth and European athletics competitions. No names, however, because I am in a benevolent mood and, anyway, the book is now closed.

No one, gadai bpkb mobil absolutely no one, is now going to snatch the palme d'or away from the American journalist, shamefully from the print trade, who put the following proposition to Eldrick Woods on the eve of this week's last major golf championship of the year: 'Tiger,' he said, 'wouldn't it be better for the game of golf if you didn't win so much?' A thunderous silence descended, just as it had at the historic Press conference at Wimbledon when a British reporter asked John McEnroe when he'd last had sex.

That wasn't a stupid question at all. McEnroe went berserk, fighting broke out between appalled American journalists and laughing British writers and a redtop newspaper led its front page the next day under the headline: 'Wimbledon Riot'.

So how would Tiger react to arguably the most idiotic question even he has ever had to contend with?


For a pause of maybe five seconds he said nothing.

Then he broke into a cherubic smile and replied: 'No, I can't go along with that.' On this opening day of a new Premiership football season, with nine months of undiluted fury, aggression, dispute, broken limbs, professional fouls, abused contracts, marital infidelities and nightclub punch-ups ahead, I could find no better example of a world sportsman who still so exemplifies the now sadly scorned ideals of Corinthianism or, for that matter, even a modicum of decent manners.



The irony is that Tiger Woods is by far richer than all of them. The figures are never released except to the American tax man but, at 26, I would be very surprised if his bank balance now shows much short of Pounds 1billion.

Would you wish to be in Tiger Woods' Nike-branded shoes?
Forget it. He can go nowhere in public without a posse of bodyguards and heavies. He cannot stroll into a restaurant, walk undisturbed down a street, play a fun game of darts in a pub. Every time he comes to Britain there is no way he can enjoy normal hotel life.



He has to be sequestered into some private residence whose owners are sworn to secrecy.

A friend who helps organise some of this subterfuge says: 'He is invariably polite.

He is courteous to the staff and tips generously. They all end up loving him.' He doesn't give one-on-one interviews but never ducks Press conferences to promote his game, even when confronted with such a banal question as faced him this week.



He made no excuses when the weather closed in on the Muirfield Open Championship and he shot an unprecedented 81, and nor could he have been more effusive or encouraging about Britain's Justin Rose, who came in three under par after his opening round in his first American major championship on Thursday.


Woods is a remarkable young man who has overcome seemingly insurmountable problems as he rose in American golf. He is black and I rate him among the last of the great Corinthians to play any professional game.

There happens to be another golfer who deserves similar acclaim, a man clouded with uncertainties until he won the Open Championship last month.



Two years ago, lunching with a couple of Daily Mail colleagues in Cape Town, the restaurant proprietor, a celebrated former Springbok rugby international, joined us and told us that Ernie Els, when back in South Africa, was a frequent patron for a quiet meal.


'In fact,' he said, 'he was in here a couple of weeks ago and just across the room there were six young men celebrating a birthday. One of them plucked up courage, came across to Ernie, apologised for interrupting him and asked if he could have his autograph.



Ernie obliged and the lad came back a little later and asked if he would mind autographing for the other five as well. They stood in line and Ernie signed and chatted with them all.' Almost end of story, but not quite. Els quietly summoned the proprietor, asked him to bring him the six lads' lunch bill, paid it and slipped out of the restaurant without another word.


I doubt if any of these parables will have the slightest impact on the new football Premiership season, but here's hoping.

WHILE more than 300 officers have been desperately searching for two little girls, the Metropolitan Police have been called in to interview Crystal Palace manager Trevor Francis for allegedly clipping his substitute goalkeeper, Alex Kolinko, around the ear.



Apparently, sitting near Francis in the touchline dugout last Tuesday, Kolinko burst out laughing when the visiting Bradford team scored first.

Tell you something: our lovely country is getting dafter by the day, let alone the year.