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Woods now paying the price for being an outlier

Who knows how much of a reader Tiger Woods is.

A Stanford graduate (well, nearly), his education certainly indicates he knows his way around a paperback or two - but then again his career and lifestyle might suggest he has little need for such lo-fi forms of entertainment.

Even if he hasn't read any Malcolm Gladwell, however, Woods has probably heard of him. The journalist is one of the most famous in the United States, with a number of thought-provoking books under his belt that have influenced the course of the country's recent cultural conversation.

One of them, Outliers, may be of particular relevance to Woods. In it, Gladwell attempts to argue a compelling case - that expertise is not born, but made; that those who devote over 10,000 hours to any given pursuit eventually come to master it.

A writer Woods is less likely to be familiar with is Matthew Syed. The Times journalist took Gladwell's Outliers and attempted to apply it to sport, culminating in his own book, Bounce.

Syed's argument is undoubtedly flawed in places, even if he does downplay his own sporting achievements (as an Olympic table tennis player) to add weight to his assertion that sporting excellence is created through circumstance, fortune and hard work rather than innate ability.

Syed and Gladwell place a premium on practice and coaching over natural, God-given-ability. Who knows whether Woods would be inclined to agree with such a theory, but the evidence in his case certainly suggests there is some truth to it.

Picking up a golf club at nine months, practising with his drill-sergeant father from almost the point he could walk so that he passed the 10,000 hours of practice mark before most children even realise they might like the game - Woods fits the very profile of what Syed and Gladwell write about.

It worked as a dominant amateur, and Woods has taken that grind into his (very successful) professional career. No-one worked as hard as him on the range, no-one pounded balls like he did before, after and during tournaments.

Tiger Woods owes much of his past success - and perhaps his present problems - to the countless hours spent on the range © Getty Images

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And, for 14 major titles, it worked.

But now he's paying the price.

Still only 35, Woods' body is now beginning to give out on him. He lasted just nine holes on Thursday at the Players Championship, shooting 42 before withdrawing. A litany of knee issues, ones he picked up at the Masters in April, had clearly not completely healed themselves.

"The knee acted up and then the Achilles followed after that and then the calf started cramping up," Woods, with more composure than the analysis might warrant, said at the time. "Everything started getting tight, so it's just a whole chain reaction."

Maybe he just came back too soon - perhaps fulfilling a promise he made to the PGA Tour (suggested in some quarters, but vehemently denied by the two parties), or perhaps lying to himself about the extent of his problems.

Or maybe it's the years of pounding golf balls on the range now noticeably taking their toll, of repeating downshifts, hip turns, weight transfers and knee flexes until they were ingrained his muscle memory.

Maybe it's the decision to bulk up his upper body at the turn of the millennium, a reaction either to the changing demands of the game or just an egotistical desire to remain the biggest hitter on tour against a new wave of long-bombing competition.

Whichever it was, it isn't looking wise now. The Woods that won the 1997 Masters was a willowy elastic ball of a man, with a loose swing that was capably of inimitable quality but also the occasional uncontrollable hoik.

That swing Woods, alongside coach Butch Harmon, would soon change - building a more repeatable action and changing his body type in a recipe that would eventually lead to the fabled 'Tiger Slam' of 2000 and 2001.

But perhaps it wasn't one for the long term. Woods' body looks, to all intents and purposes, shot. Years carrying an upper body too bulky and muscular for the legs that carry it look like they may have only led to a painful breaking point.

If it couldn't adequately handle an uncomfortable stance off pine straw without breaking down (as was the case with the injury he picked up at the Masters) then it is only a matter of time before it breaks down again.

And again. And again.

That willowy swing of '97 might not have won 14 majors by now, but perhaps it would have been in good enough shape to give him a great shot at competing strongly for them for the next decade or more.

That is by no means certainly the case right now.

Woods' single-minded pursuit of greatness has perhaps done more to modernise the fitness and athleticism of golfers than any player before him. But perhaps he took it a step too far, and is only now being made aware of it.

Unless his driving improves dramatically, Woods is going to continue to face awkward - and potentially damaging - shots © Getty Images

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It was perhaps ironic, then, that Woods would break down at Sawgrass, the site of his infamous first press conference after allegations about his personal life came to light over 18 months ago. Back then, many suggested it was the biggest threat to his continuing pursuit of Jack Nicklaus' major record.

Now we should know better. This is his biggest obstacle yet.

It's intriguing that Woods is again rebuilding his swing, this time with Sean Foley. When the announcement was made of the coaching change , pundits assumed it was the latest example of Woods the tinkerer. Now, questions must be asked about what those swing changes really entail. Is Woods ironing out prior flaws - or are the pair building a new swing primarily to alleviate the pressure on his faltering legs?

That might be the alteration that sees the rebirth of his career - or it might be the last roll of the dance of a man broken in body if not in mind. Either way, it's worrying.

Phil Mickelson, Vijay Singh, even Lee Westwood are all relatively recent examples that golfers can markedly improve in their mid-to-late thirties. Woods might be coming from a higher standard than either of those three, but he's falling off faster than anyone ever thought and there's little indication the slump can be arrested.

Woods, of course, won his last major (the US Open in 2008) on one knee (not to mention managed to finish fourth in this year's Masters despite playing over 25% of the event with his current injuries), so it would always be unwise to write him off.

But the evidence is compelling.

"I'll do whatever is necessary to play in the US Open, and I'm hopeful I can be there to compete," Woods said only this week. Even he is no longer confident - merely 'hopeful'.

Whether paying the price for being an aggressive outlier, for feeding his ego or for pursuing short-term success with little thought for what could be in store 10 or 15 years down the line - Woods is facing the biggest challenge yet to his career.

He'll keeping going though, of course he will. After all, what else is he going to do with his time?

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