Tiger had spent six years with Hank Haney. During that period, from March 2004 to April 2010, he played in ninety-three PGA tournaments and won thirty-one times, including six majors. It was a remarkable run, during which Tiger won 33 percent of the time. By comparison, in a little over seven years under Butch Harmon, Tiger had won nearly 27 percent of the time, taking 34 of the 127 PGA tournaments he entered, including eight majors. Woods and Harmon had spent more years together, resulting in more majors, but Woods and Haney had had a success rate that was unparalleled in the annals of golf. During that period, Tiger had come to trust Haney more than almost anyone else in his life outside of his family and Mark Steinberg. But the meltdown of his marriage and the disintegration of his reputation had a lot of unintended collateral damage. Haney was among the casualties.
Shortly after the 2010 Masters and his conversation with Steinberg, Haney reluctantly agreed to try to stick it out with Woods. Taking Steinberg’s plea to heart, Haney took the time to write a candid, five-page email to Tiger, proposing a plan for going forward. He copied Steinberg on the email. Given that Haney had just threatened to quit, he figured his long missive would draw a thoughtful response from Tiger. It didn’t. Tiger never responded.
After the Masters, Woods had bigger priorities than Haney’s feelings. He was dealing with divorce lawyers, financial advisors, and questions about custody. On top of everything else, another woman had come forward. This one was claiming that Tiger was the father of her child. Needless to say, working his way through Haney’s five-page email wasn’t on top of Tiger’s to-do list. It wasn’t until two weeks later, on the eve of the Quail Hollow Championship in Charlotte, that Tiger finally got around to calling Haney. He never mentioned the email, launching instead into the allegations about him being the father of another woman’s child. Insisting her time line was off, Tiger said the claim couldn’t be true.
As usual, the conversation was all about Woods and never got around to what was on Haney’s mind. This had been the case throughout their relationship, but in this instance it irritated Haney more than ever. At a time when Haney really needed Tiger to recognize his concerns about their partnership, he didn’t.
Without Haney around, Tiger played poorly in Charlotte, shooting a 79 on Friday, his highest score on the Tour since 2002. He ended up missing the cut. A week later, Woods withdrew in the final round of The Players Championship, complaining of neck pain. Once again, Haney wasn’t there, and once again, Tiger was off. “Hey, Tiger!” a young kid yelled as Woods headed toward the clubhouse. “Say so long to that number-one ranking. Kiss it good-bye!”
Whatever magic Tiger had mustered for the Masters had quickly vanished. A month into his comeback, his swing was off, and he was distracted, impatient, and unable to make the clutch shots and critical putts that had long defined his game. Suddenly, he no longer looked like a superhero on the golf course. He looked beatable. Other players sensed it, and so did the fans.
Meanwhile, he left his swing coach hanging. No dialogue. No calls. Nothing.
Fed up, Haney was determined not to be pushed aside the way Butch Harmon had been years earlier. You’re not blowing me off, he thought. Fuck you!
On the morning after Tiger pulled out of The Players Championship, Haney wrote a statement explaining why he was quitting as Tiger’s coach. He sent it to Jim Gray at Golf Channel and asked him to hold it for a few hours. Then he texted Tiger, saying they needed to talk. “I can’t talk today,” Tiger texted back. “I’m with my kids.”
Despite the fact that he and Elin were proceeding toward a divorce, Tiger was spending as much time with his children as possible. In one respect, he was making up for lost time; but on a deeper level, the guilt he felt when he had missed Charlie’s birthday during treatment served as a constant reminder that he no longer wanted to put anything—not even his career—ahead of his children.
Oblivious to the fact that Haney was quitting, Tiger was surprised when he got a second text from him. “If anybody should understand the value of friends at this point in their life, it should be you,” Haney wrote. “I feel like I’ve been a great friend to you. I don’t think I’ve gotten that in return.”
Haney had always been ultrasensitive to criticism about Tiger’s swing. In this instance, Woods thought Haney was once again overreacting to things that commentators had said about his game during the last tournament. He had no sense that Haney’s frustration went much deeper than that. “Maybe it’s time that we just take a little break,” Tiger texted.
Without consulting his agent or his wife or anyone else, Haney replied with a message that was intended to cut the cord for good. “Tiger, I appreciate everything you did for me, the incredible opportunity I had to work with you,” he said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity, but it’s time for you to find another coach.”
Still, Tiger wasn’t hearing him. “Thanks, Hank,” Tiger texted. “But we’re still going to work together.”
“No we’re not,” Haney said. “It’s finished. Done. Over. I’m no longer your coach.”
Seconds later, Tiger texted: “We’ll talk in the morning.”
That afternoon, Woods did a telephone press conference in which he reiterated that Haney was still his coach and that they had a lot of work to do. On the verge of losing his family and isolated from so many of his friends, Tiger seemed unable to come to grips with the fact that Haney was leaving him too. But by the end of the day, he had to face reality when Golf Channel read Haney’s statement on the air: “I have informed Tiger Woods this evening that I will no longer be his coach,” he said. “Just so there is no confusion, I would like to make clear that this is my decision.”
What followed was a classic illustration of the adage that breaking up is hard to do. First Steinberg called Haney and told him that Tiger would be releasing his own statement that claimed their parting was a “joint decision.” Angry, Haney called the move “bullshit” and threatened to go public and call Tiger’s statement a lie if he issued it. Haney’s stance prompted Steinberg to modify Tiger’s statement to say “Hank Haney and I have agreed that he will no longer be my coach.” Right after it was issued, Tiger called Haney and thanked him for being a great coach and a great friend. “You know,” Tiger told him, “we’re still going to work together.”
Haney was baffled. “Tiger, if you ever want me to watch you or help you with an opinion, as a friend I’ll be happy to do it. But we’re not going to work together. I’m never going to be your coach again.”
“We’re still going to work together,” Tiger said.
Haney chuckled. “No, we’re not,” he replied.
Days later, Haney was interviewed on Golf Channel by Jim Gray, who asked him if he had ever known of Tiger taking performance-enhancing drugs. Haney said he believed that Tiger never took PEDs. “The only thing I knew about was his issue with sex addiction,” Haney said.
Tiger wasn’t pleased. Right after the interview, he shot Haney a text: “Thanks for telling everyone that I was in sex-addiction treatment.”
Steinberg was more outspoken. Fuming, he telephoned Haney. “How could you do that?” he yelled. “How could you say that? How can he raise any money? This will kill his foundation.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him or cause him any problems. I apologize if I did,” Haney said.
“You better not be doing any more interviews,” Steinberg threatened.
“Mark, you don’t control me anymore. I’m going to talk to who I want to talk to.”
For nearly fifteen years, Tiger relied on Peter Mott and his boutique law firm in Southport, Connecticut, to oversee his complex estate planning and provide legal advice on his personal and business empire. There was scarcely an investment decision or property acquisition or significant financial transaction that Tiger executed without the advice of Mott and his partners. One of the best decisions Tiger ever made was to listen to John Merchant back in 1996 when he advised him to retain Mott’s firm. Now it fell to Mott to guide Tiger through the most important transaction of his life: his divorce from Elin.
By 2010, Tiger had earned well over $1 billion through golf and endorsement deals. His net worth was estimated to be in the range of $750 million. He owned homes and real estate in different parts of the world, some of which were jointly owned by Elin, along with other personal property. Since Florida law required an equitable division of property or assets, there was a lot to sort out.
But Tiger had no interest in a contested divorce. Both he and Elin were unified in their desire to do what was best for the children, and that started with an amicable separation. So on a hot summer day, Woods and his lawyers met with Elin and her lawyers to negotiate the terms governing the custody of the children. Under the circumstances, it was a remarkably cordial session. Tiger made it clear that he wanted to meet the needs of Elin and the kids.
After the session, he and Elin signed a Marital Settlement Agreement over the Fourth of July weekend. It included a parenting plan spelling out the shared custody of the children, as well as a stipulation entitling Elin to over $100 million. The plan was for Tiger to move into the nine-thousand-square-foot home that he and Elin had purchased on Jupiter Island, Florida, for $40 million back in 2006. At the time of purchase, they had planned to eventually move the family from Isleworth to Jupiter, but now Elin and the children would look for a home of their own in nearby North Palm Beach.
For Tiger, the divorce was devastating. The scope of what he had squandered was staggering. When he met Elin, her physical beauty was so breathtaking that people had trouble seeing past it. Fluent in two languages and exceptionally smart, she had career aspirations. But at twenty-one, she put her ambitions aside, moved to the United States, and vowed to spend the rest of her life with Woods, for better or for worse. She channeled all her talents and energy into raising their children, and all the while, she never had eyes for anyone but Tiger—until Tiger broke her heart. Now, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was no longer Mrs. Woods. When the court in Bay County, Florida, granted the Final Judgment of Dissolution of Marriage on August 23, 2010, Elin dropped her married name and had her maiden name restored: Elin Maria Pernilla Nordegren.
For Elin, the divorce was liberating. In the weeks leading up to it, the stress was so bad that her hair started falling out, but she emerged from the ordeal stronger than ever. Although the family she had so badly wanted for her children was a thing of the past, she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself. She was free from the stifling demands of the PGA Tour. She no longer had to live with the oppressive corporate structure that had coalesced around her husband over the years. And the hidden burdens of being Tiger’s wife had been lifted. At thirty, she was a single mother with dreams of her own. With her newfound freedom, she decided that the first thing she was going to do was set the record straight in terms of what she’d been through.
In the entire time that Elin had been with Tiger—roughly three years as his girlfriend and almost six years as his wife—she had never granted an interview. The idea to do one after the divorce was something she had gotten from her lead attorney, Richard Cullen. In an arrangement brokered by Cullen and the general counsel for AOL–Time Warner, Elin spent nineteen hours over the course of numerous days talking to People magazine feature writer Sandra Sobieraj Westfall. The exclusive interviews took place at Elin’s home and led to a cover story titled “My Own Story.” In it, Elin took the high ground, saying nothing negative about her ex-husband but being open and honest about the pain and disappointment.
“Forgiveness takes time,” she said. “It’s the last step of the grieving process. I am going to be completely honest and tell you that I am working on it. I know I will have to come to forgiveness and acceptance of what has happened for me to go on and be happy in the future. And I know I will get there eventually.”
The World Golf Rankings are updated weekly, but between June 12, 2005, and October 30, 2010, the number one ranking never changed. Tiger occupied that spot for an unprecedented 281 consecutive weeks. That streak came to an end on October 31, 2010, when he slipped to number two, surpassed by Lee Westwood. By that point, Tiger hadn’t won a PGA Tour event in well over a year, and the warm reception he had received from fans and fellow golfers six months earlier at Augusta seemed like ancient history. Fans were heckling him. Rivals no longer feared him. He had lost his wife. He had lost his coach. He had lost his swing. And he was about to lose his caddie.
Not long after his split with Haney, Tiger asked Canadian-born Sean Foley to be his new swing coach. A certified golf geek, Foley was at the forefront of a new wave of instructors who embraced an emerging technology called TrackMan, a Doppler radar–like device that measures the collision of the ball and the club and tells you every single parameter from the path of the club to the trajectory and spin of the ball. One day early on, as Foley used biomechanical terms like “fascial chains” and “kinesthetic submodalities” to explain his philosophy to Tiger, Steve Williams couldn’t help thinking how bizarre everything he was saying sounded. For Williams, the arrival of Foley was the writing on the wall: Tiger wasn’t the same, and neither was the friendship and the trust that had once existed between them. Together, Williams and Tiger had won seventy-two tournaments, including thirteen majors. But ever since Tiger’s return to the Tour, the chemistry that Williams had once enjoyed with him was gone. Woods’s choice of a new swing coach with a radical approach only made matters worse.
In 2011, Tiger’s swing and health consistently deteriorated. At the Masters, he injured his left Achilles tendon while hitting from an awkward stance. The injury forced him to withdraw from the Wells Fargo Championship a month later. Then, in mid-May, he withdrew from The Players Championship after shooting an abysmal 42 on the front nine. He was diagnosed with an MCL sprain in his left knee to go along with the Achilles injury.
Nine days before the US Open at Congressional Country Club, Tiger announced he was pulling out of the tournament due to injuries. Within hours of withdrawing, he got a call from Williams, who explained that Adam Scott needed a caddie for the Open and had inquired about Steve’s availability. Williams told Tiger he wanted to do it.
“No problem,” Tiger told him.
But after hanging up, Woods thought about it and changed his mind. Scott was an opponent, and he didn’t like the idea of his caddie helping an adversary. So he had Steinberg send Williams a text questioning the request.
Angry, Williams called Woods. He’d already given Scott his word that he would caddie for him. It was a one-time deal. And he wasn’t going back on his word.
Tiger relented, but he wasn’t pleased.
The rift between Woods and Williams emerged as Tiger was also on the outs with IMG. His longtime agency had decided in May that it was parting ways with Mark Steinberg, whose employment contract was up for renewal at the end of June. Conflicting reports were published, some claiming that Steinberg was fired for poor performance or for his singular devotion to Woods, while others indicated that the two sides were not able to come to terms on a new contract. But as far as Tiger was concerned, Steinberg had done a masterful job representing him since taking over as his agent in 1999. More specifically, no one had been more loyal to him during the infidelity scandal and its aftermath than Steinberg. So when Steinberg left IMG to join Excel Sports Management, Tiger announced on June 6, 2010, that he too was leaving IMG to join Excel. It was the same week that Williams told Woods he was going through with his decision to caddie for Adam Scott at the US Open.
Scott played poorly at the Open, missing the cut. Two weeks later, however, when Scott learned that Tiger would also be sitting out the AT&T National, he again asked Williams to be on his bag. The AT&T was a tournament that Tiger hosted. Some of the proceeds went to benefit his foundation. For personal and professional reasons, he put his foot down, telling Williams that if he caddied for Scott, they were finished.
“Then we’re done,” Williams told him.
Williams had always been the rare person in Tiger’s inner circle who always spoke his mind. He had never been intimidated by Tiger. And his patience with Woods had grown increasingly thin in the wake of the scandal. Without hesitation, he told Scott he would be on his bag for the AT&T. After the final round, Williams agreed to meet with Tiger in a boardroom at Aronimink Golf Club, just outside Philadelphia.
Woods was leaning back in a chair with his feet up on the table—a favorite power move of his father’s—when Williams walked in. Williams quickly determined that it was a waste of time to vent his anger. Why bother? Instead, he wished Tiger luck. Tiger did the same. Like so many of the meaningful relationships in his life, this one ended coldly. There was a firm handshake, but there was also a lot of pent-up frustration in both directions. Tiger believed that Williams had been bad-mouthing him behind his back, an absolute no-no for a caddie; and Williams felt like he’d been jerked around by Tiger. (Williams declined to discuss his employment by Woods, citing a nondisclosure agreement.)
In late July, right after the British Open, Woods announced on his website that Williams would no longer be his caddie, saying it was “time for a change.” The next day, Williams issued a statement: “After 13 years of loyal service, needless to say this came as a shock. Given the circumstances of the past 18 months working through Tiger’s scandal, a new coach and with it a major new swing change, and Tiger battling through injuries, I am very disappointed to end our very successful partnership at this time.”
Tiger had helped make Williams a rich man. Reportedly, Williams earned $12 million in eleven-plus years of caddying for Tiger—yet Williams would later write in his memoir that at times he felt like he was Tiger’s “slave,” an incendiary comment that was more an indication of the rocky nature of their breakup than a reflection of reality. But in August 2011 at the Bridgestone Invitational, Tiger and Williams were adversaries. Back from injury, Tiger finished tied for thirty-seventh, while Adam Scott won the tournament by four strokes. It was the first win for Scott with Williams on his bag. Afterward, in a rush of excitement, Williams tweeted: “THIS is the greatest win of my career.”
The message to Tiger was clear: Stick it up your arse.
Two months later, Tiger hired forty-seven-year-old veteran caddie Joe LaCava to take over his bag. A steadying presence, LaCava was a classic New Englander—tough and deeply loyal. But when Tiger looked around, he saw only one person still standing with him from his inner circle: Steinberg. It was becoming fashionable to say that Tiger had lost his edge, that the aura of invincibility that had surrounded him for his entire career was gone. In 2011, recurring injuries limited him to playing in just nine Tour events, and toward the end of the season, after finishing tied for thirtieth in the Frys.com Open, Tiger saw his world ranking fall all the way to fifty-two. He knew there were not fifty-one golfers in the world who were better than he was. There wasn’t one golfer who was better than he was. Steiny agreed. Tiger just needed to get healthy.