Doing the Tiger walk

If you want to feel like a dweeb, walk at the front of a Tiger Woods processional down a fairway, inside the ropes that keep the always-teeming gallery from spilling forth. Of course, you'll need a media pass for this, so figure out a way to get one of those first. Anyway, even if they're not, you'll sense people are muttering as you scurry by, head down as if trying to be invisible, "Hey, who are you and why are you blocking my view of Tiger for even a nano-second, you jerk?"

As a media mongrel tracking a Tiger round on foot, you want to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible to the fans who've paid money and have stood for an hour at, say, the 5th green to watch Tiger putt -- which is to say nothing of how stone-like you need to be near Tiger and his playing partners. (God forbid you get called out by The Man for sniffling, or worse, while he's addressing the ball. The thought is shudder-worthy.) That is, you hurry to your fortunate, privileged, guilt-inducing viewing spot and you hit the turf quickly. Usually you kneel, often you squat -- the knees and hammys get a healthy workout this way -- and sometimes you achieve flat, full-body extension on the ground depending on the slope and roll of the grass. Let's just say golf fans don't appreciate suddenly obstructed views, and they aren't shy about ordering even uniformed police and other security personnel who walk with the group to get the heck down in front.

Now, if you want to feel like a dweeb to the nth degree, do what I did Friday at Congressional Country Club in Bethesda, Md., where I dropped in on the second round of Woods' AT&T National tournament. Hop onto the back of a golf cart driven by a cop and roll up and down the hills between the 18th green and the first tee (Woods played the back nine first.) Carts tote the players and caddies that fair distance, and Friday there were extra carts on hand to kindly transport the accompanying media entourage. I was two carts behind Woods, standing up and hanging on and breezing past fans loitering around or schlepping up the hill via old-fashioned foot power.

Did I feel sort of sheepish? Yeah.

Figured I'd get over it.

ADVISORY: Users are solely responsible for opinions they post here and for following agreed-upon rules of civility. Comments do not reflect the views of The Virginian-Pilot or its Web sites. Comments are automatically checked for inappropriate language, but readers might find some comments offensive or inaccurate. If you believe a comment violates our rules, click the "Report Violation" link below the comment.