Woods has perfect balance in his golf swing. Nicklaus had it in his life.
Nicklaus had one coach, one swing, one woman.
Woods has had three coaches, three swings and a Gold Club worth of women. One of each makes life simple. Multiples must be exhausting.
Woods had 18 majors lie down in his bassinet with him. It was his do-or-die, and he tracked it with a vengeance. But golf does not run well on vengeance. In golf, the harder you try, the worse you do.
Nicklaus got to 18 majors without knowing he was going there. He didn't even know people were keeping track until he got to nine or 10.
Nicklaus loved golf, but it never seemed as if he loved it any more than his fishing, his hunting or his piano bars. I remember once I was murdering some standards on a piano in an empty bar in a Vail hotel. Nicklaus was walking down the hall, poked his head in, and then came in and sang along. Can you imagine Woods doing that?
Woods' hobbies are as intense as he is. He spearfishes without a tank. Ski instructors in Colorado tell me he gets as mad at his own mistakes on the slopes as he does with them on the fairways. One of his most severe knee injuries apparently happened training with the Navy SEALs. If testosterone ever needs an endorser, this is the guy.
Even their swings tell a story.
Nicklaus' swing was powerful, but it was softer, rounder, much like Nicklaus himself. It came from a kind of gathering momentum: the lifting of the left heel, the big turn of the hips, the reverse C finish.
Woods' swing is a tower of torque -- like twisting a toy helicopter rubber band tighter and tighter. It's furious and fierce, like Woods himself. It tightens against unyielding hips, then uncoils against a stiff left knee. No wonder that knee has had four operations and now his back has had one, leaving him out of this week's Masters and almost certainly this June's U.S. Open.
Nicklaus had three operations his entire career -- a knee at age 44, a hip at 59 and a back at 64. Tiger has already had five surgeries by 38.
What rival is Tiger close with? Phil Mickelson? Surely you jest. Rory McIlroy? They share an occasional (vulgar) text, but not much more. Sergio Garcia? Ernie Els? Not even close. The hunter doesn't have lunch with the lion. As Tiger's mother always said, "My boy wants to take their heart."
Nicklaus wanted to beat the man he was up against, not stomp his soul. In the 1959 U.S. Amateur final at The Broadmoor, Nicklaus and the great amateur Charlie Coe were locked in a sensational match. On one hole, Coe hit a beautiful chip next to the hole and scooped it up. Suddenly, it hit him: He hadn't putted out. Nicklaus, without looking up, said, "Don't worry about it, Charlie. That was good."
If Woods has you down 9, he wants 10. I've seen him bury his club with a 12-shot lead.