As the final contracts were being drawn up, something astonishing
occurred – an attempt was made to sabotage the deal.
By one of our rival agents? No, by Phil Knight.
when Titleist would ask him to play a product that he wasn’t happy with – the company would not rest until Tiger had exactly the clubs he wanted. It was a great way to end the meeting, except that it wasn’t quite over. Earl had something he wanted to say. With a twinkle in his eye, he looked at Wally and said, “Now let’s get to the really important issue – when do I get my set of clubs?” By late August, when Tiger arrived at Pumpkin Ridge for the 1996 US Amateur, everything was in place. I had surreptitiously arranged for him to get sponsor exemptions into most of the remaining PGA Tour events, and Phil Knight had laid on his private jet to take Tiger to the first of those events, the Milwaukee Open, where Nike had arranged a hotel for a Wednesday morning press conference. That said, Tiger had given no indication of his intentions. A week earlier he had assured his college
coach he would be returning to Stanford in autumn, and at Pumpkin Ridge, when USGA president Judy Bell approached him and asked whether he would be playing in the World Amateur Team Championship scheduled for November in the Philippines, Tiger told her he would. Earl had been less circumspect – two weeks earlier he had told a couple of golf writers the decision had been made and would be announced immediately after the US Amateur, but he had also sworn them to secrecy, and the scribes had managed to hold their pens. Late on Sunday afternoon, when Tiger holed the winning putt to beat Steve Scott on the 38th hole, it was hard to process what Tiger had accomplished. This kid won six USGA national championships in six consecutive years on six different courses – 36 straight matches against the highest level of amateur competition. Beyond his own unrelentingly stellar play, there was so much that had to go right. In any of those 36 matches he might have shot 66 yet been eliminated by someone who’d had the round of his life. A bad bounce here, a ball in a divot there, and the streak could have ended. The odds were so overwhelming, I couldn’t help musing that it was all somehow meant to be. I told myself I knew better, but maybe Earl’s bluster was legit: Tiger Woods is the Chosen One.
However, from the beginning there was a shared understanding that a deal was going to happen, and it didn’t take long to reach the numbers: $20 million for five years (with
SWOOSH DREAMS Woods gets fit for the Nike clothes that would define his pro career.
escalating bonuses like those in the Nike contract). All that remained before finalising the contract was a meeting. Wally wanted to formalise things with a face- to-face meeting with Tiger, and this was a get-together that needed to be clandestine, so it was agreed that Tiger, Earl, Wally, and I would meet in San Francisco. It was June 1996, and Tiger was just finishing up his second year at Stanford, so he was already out there. Wally flew in from Boston, Earl from Los Angeles, and I from Cleveland, all of us converging at a downtown hotel where Earl and Tiger had booked a suite. I began by going over what the parameters of a deal “might look like if and when Tiger should decide to turn pro.” (At this point the decision had been made but not announced, and it was important for all concerned to stay within NCAA and USGA regulations.) Wally asked Tiger several questions about his specs and preferences about clubs, shafts, etc. Then he made a very strong statement, assuring Tiger that there would never be a moment
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