So how do we measure his Tigreatness? Maybe we need a new language, one that finds new words for "greatness" and dominance. I've heard that the Eskimos have forty-seven words for snow. Forty-seven, because there is so much of it in their environment. Maybe we should have more words for "really good golfer," something better than "scratch," or "ace," or "hustler." That must be Tiger's legacy, more words. No, probably not. I tigress.

Searching for adequate comparisons, my attention naturally wandered to golf's Hall of Fame induction ceremonies, held last Sunday. Greg Norman, Karsten Solheim, Judy Bell, and Alan Robertson all got in (among others), and it's fitting. They're all Tigrrific, in their own special ways. What better way to recap the year in golf than comparing the sport's newly minted heros to its perennial Chosen One?

Everyone who has heard of Allan Robertson, please stand up. Now sit down. You're all liars and should be ashamed of yourselves. Allan Robertson died in 1859, the year before the first British Open. He never got a chance to prove himself in a major, but it's been said that he never lost a singles match. A century and a half from now, when the four Majors have become the 4C Championship Challenge (the official golf tournament of the Davis family), Tiger will be in the same situation: lacking a standard to be measured by. Robertson also revolutionized the golf ball by stuffing feathers into a leather case. Woods has forced similar equipment changes across the game. You can be sure that Lefty would be plucking a bird right now if he thought Robertson's trick would work for him.

Karsten Solhiem? Most of us probably know who he is; he started Ping golf equipment. Many of us have played with cavity-backed irons. He started those, too. And he's changed the game much the same way Woods and Robertson did, by giving Woods' competitors better darts to throw at the charging Tiger. It won't make much of a difference in the wins and losses, but the sport will benefit. And people like us get new toys to covet.

Judy Bell was the first woman elected to the presidency of the United States Golf Association. If he wanted to, Woods could probably have that job tomorrow. But I'm pretty sure he won't miss the extra income, although he deserves more accolades than Bell will ever get, even as a member of the Hall of Fame. Bell broke the gender barrier in the behind the scenes part of the USGA. Woods wasn't the first to break the barrier, but he was the first to render it useless. Woods isn't just a minority on tour because of his skin color. No one shares his talent, either.

Before you ask me to stop rubbing Tiger's back to adjust the pillow under his head, I'll stop my pampering here. The next comparison isn't quite as kind. In the late '80s and early '90s, Greg Norman stood at the top of his game. He was more than a player, he was an icon. He had cars, jets, estates, and a fearsome demeanor on the course that kept earning him more of the first three. When his line of clothing came out, The Shark was invincible. Then something happened. A small back injury, a few blown putts, a major here and three more there. Norman is a has-been. A lot of talent now washed up. An icon of the rise and the fall. Sure, Norman's still a class act, and Woods will always be one, too. But Tiger, be careful. You have more wins, money, and fame than Norman ever did.

You have a lot more to lose.

That's why we'll watch in 2002.

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