To root for drama in sports is inevitably to root for failure.
This tension plays out naturally in team sports, where fans tend to have a specific interest in one team. It can play out more awkwardly in individual sports, where hero vs. villain isn't so clearly defined.
That strange dynamic occurred to me Sunday, as I watched along with millions as Tiger Woods tried to beat back his history — some of it brought on by injuries, some of it self-inflicted off the course — to win the Masters.
A handful of those millions were gathered around the lobby of a St. Paul fitness center as Tiger took a late lead and then hit a precision ball on the par-3 16th hole. There was no doubt about the star attraction — and a reminder of the sway Woods has even as his streak of not winning a major had reached a decade.
The viewers weren't actively rooting for everyone else to fail — specifically Francesco Molinari, who started the day with a two-shot lead — but it was implicit.
It was also unsurprising. As someone who drew the enviable assignment of following Woods everywhere during both the 2002 and 2009 PGA Championships at Hazeltine, I can attest to the shadow he can cast over the rest of the best.
But again, that second time — the second of two runner-up finishes for Tiger in Minnesota — was almost a decade ago. His pursuit of Jack Nicklaus' 18 majors was already at 14 by then, and reaching it seemed like an inevitability.
It's hard to say what was more stunning: the fact that Woods just reached 15 on Sunday, or that he did it at all. Tiger did his part. Molinari and others obliged.
