Cape Town - You have got to love a good myth of coincidence.
Like the one that tells of Tsutomo Yamaguchi surviving both Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic blasts; or that John Wilkes Booth’s brother saved Abraham Lincoln’s son from accidental death; or that Finnair flight 666 departed from Copenhagen and landed in Helsinki on Friday the 13th – or if you want it to be more dramatic Flight 666 flew to HEL on the day most recognised in western culture as the unluckiest.
In 2018, a documentary Three Identical Strangers told of triplets who had been separated by birth as part of a nature v nurture study, only to stumble upon one another by accident.
Weird.
Meanwhile, the Simpsons correctly predicted that Donald Trump would become president of the United States.
Then there is the tale of Wilmer McLean, who witnessed the start of the American Civil War in 1861 at his farm near Manassas Junction, Virginia; moved away from said property to escape the war; but still witnessed the end of the same war in 1865 when the southern Confederate forces surrendered to the Union in the hamlet he had moved into at Appomattox Court House.
And what of Violet Jessup. The nurse survived the sinking of the HMS Olympic, HMS Britannic and the RMS Titanic, earning the ominous or fortuitous moniker of Miss Unsinkable.
Most famously, Mark Twain was born in 1835, with Halley’s Comet passing by; and 76 years later in 1910, on the day of the comet’s reappearance, passed away after predicting his death.
What has this got to do with anything sports related, you ask?
Well, I’d like to put another coincidence into print, one that has been doing the rounds on the interwebs already: Jack Nicklaus was 46 when he won his sixth Masters title in 1986; Tiger Woods is 46 and will this week, most incredibly, be attempting to win his sixth Green Jacket at the 86th edition of the event at Augusta National.
Whether any of it is true, doesnt really matter, does it? The myth of it makes it just all that more compelling.
There is just something magnetic about Woods that no one can deny.
Sure, he has a rap sheet of indiscretions as long as my arm – but for all of his many flaws (and they are numerous, tragic and terrible) golf, the world of sport and the fans that follow it all, cannot escape his orbit.
Seeing him strut his stuff this week down Tea Olive, Magnolia, Chinese Fir, Firethorn and Holly – to name but a few holes of the course – will be as emotionally charged as undeniably epic.
If Woods tees off on Thursday at the Masters, after nearly losing his leg 14 months ago in a car crash, it will be a remarkable comeback. The gallery that will follow him, will be a circus, a cacophony of passion – it is the type of fervour you want to see, a once in a lifetime occurrence that will never be forgotten.
By ghad, it will be beautiful.
Despite his many failings, the legend of Woods is still going strong, and you can only hope the myth-making of his astonishing career is strengthened this weekend – coincidence or not.