Companies like Nike, American Express and Buick fought for a spot on his golf bag. He was racking up major championships at a faster clip than even Nicklaus had, and on pace to pass Sam Snead for all-time tour wins with ease. He seemed to have it all, waving back from a Christmas card one year with his blond Swedish model wife, two handsome kids and dog set against the backdrop of a mansion.
It hardly matters where you set the start of the stumble: the death of his father; the 2008 U.S. Open, where he hobbled off the golf course with the trophy and stress fractures in both his knee and tibia; the post-Thanksgiving night car crash just past the end of his own driveway.
No matter. Whatever tripped the fall, it’s been a long, very public slide for the family man in that photo to the sad sack in the mugshot that topped just about every website and newspaper page at some point these past few days. If Woods has a problem with painkillers, it’s hardly a high-class headache and he’s got way too much company.