It was only a matter of time before the best (and crustiest) golf reporter of our time laid the wood to Tiger Woods:

I’ll tell you what Hogan, Palmer and Nicklaus were at their peak.

They were every bit as popular as Tiger, they endured similar demands on their time, but they handled it courteously, often with ease and enjoyment.

They were accessible, likable, knowable, conversant, as gracious in loss as they were in victory, and, above all, amazingly helpful to those of us in the print lodge who covered them.

That was their brand. All the things Tiger never was.

As for Tiger’s brand, boy, did that take a hit.

For all of the Tiger idolaters out there, it must have been like finding out that ice cream sundaes give you gonorrhea. [.  .  .]

I covered Tiger winning his 14 professional majors, but I can’t say I know him. I knew the smile he put on for TV. I knew the orchestrated remarks he granted us in his press-room interviews. I knew the air he punched when another outrageous putt went in the cup. That’s it.

I once made an effort to get to know the old silicone collector. Tried to arrange dinners with him for a little Q&A, on or off the record, his choice. But the closest I ever got was this word from his agent: "We have nothing to gain."

Now it’s too late.

I’m busy.

Itís a shame that Woods never got around to getting to know Jenkins. He just might have found one of the real friends he needs.

Meanwhile, Golf Digest’s Jaime Diaz — the golf writer who has known Woods the longest and best — provides this more in-depth article on Woods’ life, as well as the expectations and pressures that may have contributed to his secret life.