The trouble was that Tiger was tallying his miracle par at the exact moment when he desperately needed a routine birdie. But instead of rallying down the home stretch, Woods, who had been tied with Els early in the round at 12 under, faltered. He finished with a distinctly un-Tiger-like 11 straight pars–and in third place, a distant six strokes behind the South African star. A $357,000 payday can’t exactly be called a flop. But it was all too typical of Tiger’s recent performances that have become known collectively–despite his heartfelt protests–as “The Slump.”

Yes, Tiger, yes, indeed, we should all endure such slumps in our lives. After all, Woods remains ensconced at No. 1 in the world, is fourth on the PGA money list with $2.85 million in winnings this year, and has maintained his remarkable streak of making the 36-hole cut, now at 124 consecutive tourneys. (It is a streak of DiMaggio proportions; for perspective, the second-longest current streak belongs to Jerry Kelly and stands at 21 tournaments in a row.)

But as a sage once said, there are lies, damned lies and statistics–and they often amount to the same thing. So here are a few stats culled from Tiger’s season that lie a little close to the truth. Woods ranks 144th on the tour in driving accuracy, back in a little cluster with such luminaries as Todd Hamilton, Vaughn Taylor, J.J. Henry and Todd Fischer. He ranks 141st in sand saves, 99th in scrambling (a scramble being a par save from off the green like Sunday’s memorable 14th) and 60th in hitting greens in regulation, a stat at which he ranked first just two seasons ago.

Indeed a bigger miracle than Sunday’s chip-in is that somehow, despite all the erratic shot-making, Tiger’s talent and competitive ferocity have kept him in contention at virtually every tournament. He has finished third, fourth and third his last three outings. But he hasn’t won a tourney (other than at match play) since last fall and hasn’t captured a major since two years ago. Right now Tiger appears to be a golfer who neither can catch folks from behind–not Ernie, not Vijay Singh, not Sergio Garcia and not even Phil Mickelson–any more, nor can be counted upon to hold a lead.

Tiger will still head to the U.S. Open next week at Shinnecock Hills on the tip of Long Island as the favorite, but hardly the odds-on favorite he has been ever since he blitzed The Masters field by 12 strokes back in 1997. (The British bookmakers Ladbrokes have him at 5-1, compared to 5-2 last year, with Els at 7-1, Singh at 8-1 and Mickelson at 9-1.) And Tiger hardly seems a good bet in a season when he’s hit less than 60 percent of fairways, almost always a fatal flaw at Opens, be they U.S. or British. In fact, Tiger should be praying for some foul Shinnecock weather, like the rain and blustery winds which ballooned the average first-round score there to an 8-over-par 78 when the Open was held there in ‘86. Having spent the entire year playing recovery shots, he might have a considerable advantage if the whole field is playing in dire straits, too.

How to explain this Tiger turnabout. His swing has already been parsed by every golfing guru in the world, and I accept their judgment that it has changed, that it is now both imperfect and inconsistent and that, as a result, he has lost confidence in it. I cannot contribute much to that assessment except to say that I am morally certain that his fiancee bears no responsibility for any of it. That her name is frequently mentioned in connection with Tiger’s golfing woes is the basest kind of media opportunism, the search for any excuse to run a picture of Swedish beauty Elin Nordegren (see picture column right–no, that’s just a joke).

To see Tiger tamed, however, is a humbling experience–for all of us. After all, nobody doubted he would be the consensus greatest golfer of all time by the age of 30. Now, at just 28, he has a long ways still to go to claim that distinction. It is a tribute to his remarkable toughness that these recent woes have shaken him yet not brought him down. For a little perspective, think David Duval. The man who won 11 of 36 tournaments over an 18-month period in the late ’90s missed the cut in 16 of 20 tournaments last year and hasn’t competed at all this year. Back in 1999, Duval became the only golfer to wrest the No. 1 ranking away from Tiger, however briefly; now his ranking has plummeted to an unimaginable No. 437.

Then again there are so many things these days that I could never have imagined. Our sports scene, of late, seems to mirror our increasingly uncertain world. Who could have predicted the parlay of Gaston Gaudio and Anastasia Myskina as French Open champions? Or dreamed of Tampa Bay winning the Stanley Cup? (Of course, first you have to know that Tampa has a hockey team.) The Marlins as World Series champs? The one-time New England Patsies as the NFL juggernaut? Next thing, someone will try to tell me the Pistons can hold their own with the Lakers.

Golf is hardly immune to the chaos. These days it seems like any Tom, Dick, Ben Curtis or Shaun Micheel can win a golfing major. A few years back I felt myself at odds with most golfing fans who were reveling in Tiger’s dominance. I, by contrast (and I am nothing if not a contrarian), lamented that he had removed all the drama from the game. I was right, but wrong, too. Regular victories by anonymities, however thrilling, ultimately depreciate the game. To be called champion you should have to beat the very best at the top of his game. I desperately want our old Tiger back.