I'm generally not a huge follower of golf, but there are two weeks every year in which I get sucked into the game.  The first, the US Open.  The Open makes the summer feel like its in full swing and is definitely the one major that goes against golf's stuffy reputation the most.  The other, and probably more important to me than the Open, is the Masters.

For me, the Masters is aptly named because its simply majestic.  There is no event that has fared better from the advent of HDTV than the Masters.  Its beautiful.  Never a blade of grass out of place, never a flower that isn't properly in bloom, never a gopher ruining the greens.  One of my dreams as a writer is to get a chance to cover the Masters and go to Augusta National, although I'm not sure I'll be able to pick my jaw up in time to get any actual work done.

This year, though, I realized what really drew me in.  Tiger Woods.  Of course Tiger drew me in, but I never knew just how much.  The Masters has been Tiger's show, the chance for the best player in the world to stand up at the best course in the world and show everyone why he was the best.  Even when Tiger played last year, after the scandal and all the struggles before, it felt like Tiger would come roaring back (pardon the pun) to show everyone he was still the best.  And he almost did.

Now?  It doesn't seem so certain.  He hasn't won a major since 2008 and he hasn't won the Masters since 2005.  Heck, he hasn't even won a tournament in 508 days!  Right now, the magic of Tiger is gone, and it doesn't bode well for my percieved majesty of the Masters.

I'll still tune in to check the scores and marvel at the course througout the week.  I'll still watch the winner walk up to the clubhouse on Sunday, but I don't think I'll be really hooked unless Tiger is making a run.

I'm not sure if that's right or wrong, but it's the truth.  Tiger needs golf just as much as golf needs Tiger.