2001: Tiger Slam Was the Talk of the Tournament

Twenty years have probably done little to galvanize those who clearly stood on either side of the “Grand Slam, Not a Grand Slam” debate. Likely, they remain forces divided.

But goodness, how a look back at the 2001 Masters Tournament opens a floodgate of memories that remind you how special was that week and the golfer around whom it revolved.

The Grand Slam, after all, is mythical. Tiger Woods’ skills are mystical.

“Even though we’re not, we’re kind of in awe of him,” said Chris DiMarco, who experienced firsthand the demands of trying to chase down Woods in a major championship. He lost in a Masters playoff to Woods in 2005 and was second to him in The Open Championship of 2006.

But it was in 2001 when DiMarco first encountered the unstoppable force that was Woods on a major stage. With rounds of 65-69 for 10-under 134 in his Masters debut, DiMarco led a distinguished duo by two strokes – Phil Mickelson, who had done everything but win a major championship, and Woods, who had never lost a major championship.

OK, so we embellish. But harken back to those April days of 20 years ago, when Woods’ constant stalking of history was a storyline virtually every time he teed it up. He had shattered records to win the U.S. Open in 2000, steamrolled in The Open Championship a month after that and prevailed over the unheralded Bob May in a PGA Championship playoff in August.

Three consecutive majors to close out 2000. Should he win the 2001 Masters for four straight major triumphs, surely it would be the holy grail in golf – the Grand Slam – correct?

“That’s ridiculous,” Arnold Palmer said.

“You know winning a Grand Slam is winning all four of them in one year,” Jack Nicklaus said. “What is your year – fiscal or calendar?”

“I don’t see how you can give him a mulligan,” Gary Player said. “He didn’t win this event last year.”

That’s not just three voices on the other side, it’s The Big Three. But Woods steered his comments down the high road.

“I’m not saying they’re wrong,” he said. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion.”

Especially given the backdrop to the story, there were no shortages of opinion. Augusta National and the Masters are monuments to the great Bobby Jones, whose impeccable career had a parade of highlights, but none greater than what he did in his last season of competitive golf – 1930, when he won the U.S. Open, then the British Amateur, The Open Championship and the U.S. Amateur, the biggest championships of his day.

“Bobby Jones gets ‘Grand Slam’” proclaimed the Miami News on Sept. 28, 1930, and across America the sentiment was saluted.

Four wins in four months of the same year. Historic.

But four wins in 11 months across two years … well, what was it?

“Call it what you will,” Mickelson said. “But it’s impressive.”

On that point, no one will even venture a dissenting view. But when the lens is opened wide on the Masters Tournament from 20 years ago, appreciation surfaces for the pure competition that took place, regardless of the “Grand Slam” window dressing.

Consider the 54-hole leader board:

-12 Tiger Woods
-11 Phil Mickelson
-10 Mark Calcavecchia
-10 Chris DiMarco
-9 Angel Cabrera
-9 David Duval
-9 Ernie Els

What wasn’t to like about having Nos. 1-2, Woods and Mickelson, in the final pairing, with No. 3, Els, just three off the lead? Or having Duval, No. 8, right in there, along with Calcavecchia, who was No. 21, or Cabrera, who was No. 33?

It was an exquisite script at golf’s most compelling theater, and it did not disappoint. Yes, it played out to an ending that sounded familiar – Woods shot 68, finished at 16-under 272, and won by two – but don’t overlook the drama.

Duval, out in 32, birdied the par-5 15th to pull even with Woods, at 15-under. At about the same time, Woods made par at 15 while Duval made bogey at 16, after a striped a 7-iron that he has long contended was one of the best shots he ever hit, went long.

Woods led Duval by one, and Mickelson, who three-putted the 16th for bogey, trailed by two. Something had to happen – and it did, totally in Woods’ favor. Shortish birdie putts by Duval went wide, both at 17 and 18, then Woods at the 18th concluded his Tournament with a birdie when all he was trying to do was lag it close.

“Some of the golfing gods,” conceded Woods, “are looking down on me the right way.”

They did not, however, provide a definitive answer to the discussion that had been waged all week. Was it, or was it not, a Grand Slam?

“A Grand Slam happens in one year, not two,” said Vijay Singh, who nonetheless helped put the Green Jacket on Woods.

“If Woods wants to call it the Grand Slam, he has every right to do so, because he deserves it if he wins all four,” Darren Clarke said.

Those behemoths who unsuccessfully chased their antagonist – Mickelson and Duval – harnessed their disappointment to answer the questions. Even when they stretched outside the norm.

How could Mickelson compare Woods’ personality, character, and athleticism to Jones?

Lefty delivered this: “Well, I think that's kind of an insult to Tiger, to compare Bobby Jones’ physique with Tiger’s. [Jones] used to love his pie à la mode, if I’m not mistaken, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tiger eat pie à la mode. He’s eating leaves off the trees and flower petals. There’s a dedication thing there.”

When it was suggested that Woods’ four straight major triumphs was on par with Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak, Duval said Woods’ feat was well beyond that of the Yankee Clipper.

“Man, that’s not even comparing apples and oranges. That’s apples and peanuts,” he said.

Even Player, who maintained Woods didn’t win the Grand Slam, conceded it was a greater accomplishment than what Jones had done. Call it “The Tiger Slam,” perhaps.

Why?

“Because he did do something that’s never ever been done before,” Player said. “That says a lot.”

And what says it all is that it may never be done again.