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“Some wins change the record books. This one changed the sport itself.”
At just 21 years old, Tiger Woods didn’t just show up at Augusta National Golf Club in 1997 — he shook the foundations of the entire sport.
What started as a shaky front nine quickly transformed into a masterclass in dominance that left fans, players, and even golf itself forever changed.
Woods’ opening round looked like it might spiral into disappointment after a 4-over-par 40 on the front nine.
But then he turned it around, playing the back nine in a sizzling 6-under 30, finishing the day at a respectable 70 — just three shots behind leader John Huston.
It was the kind of rebound that hinted something special was brewing.
Then came the fireworks. In the second and third rounds, Woods fired scores of 66 and 65, building a nine-stroke lead heading into Sunday.
His final round 69 sealed a tournament total of 270 (18-under-par), smashing records and setting a scoring mark that wouldn’t be touched for 23 years. His 12-stroke victory margin over runner-up Tom Kite still stands as the largest in Masters history.
And it wasn’t just the numbers that stunned everyone. It was how he did it.
Woods averaged 323 yards off the tee — 25 yards longer than any other player that week. He played Augusta’s par-5s in a jaw-dropping 13-under-par. As Tom Kite joked afterward, he at least managed to “beat all the mortals.”
But rewind a bit. Leading into the 1997 Masters, not everyone thought Tiger was a lock. In fact, some experts doubted he could even contend. “I thought he had no chance,” admitted Ron Sirak of the Associated Press. Augusta, they said, required experience — not raw talent.
Turns out, they were very wrong.
The week before the Masters, Woods casually shot a course-record 59 at Isleworth while playing with Mark O’Meara. The next day, he started his round birdie-hole-in-one, forcing O’Meara to throw in the towel, tossing $100 on Woods’ cart and saying, “You’re 16-under for 20 holes. I quit.”
In hindsight, the signs were all there. Most of us just weren’t paying close enough attention.
But Tiger’s win wasn’t just about jaw-dropping numbers or incredible athleticism. It carried a much deeper weight.
Augusta National had a complicated and, frankly, ugly history when it came to racial inclusion. The club didn’t invite its first Black competitor, Lee Elder, until 1975 — the year Woods was born. Black men weren’t allowed to join Augusta until 1990. Against that backdrop, Tiger’s victory resonated far beyond the fairways and greens.
Rick Reilly captured one powerful moment at the Champions Dinner that still sends chills down spines: all the Black cooks, busboys, and waiters, standing in the back of the room, took off their gloves and gave Tiger a standing ovation.
Nearly 50 years after Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color barrier, Tiger Woods was breaking barriers in golf.
The emotional core of the 1997 Masters came into focus on the 18th green. After the final putt dropped, Woods embraced his father, Earl, who had undergone bypass surgery just six weeks earlier and wasn’t able to follow him around the course.
Earl had called his son’s victory before the tournament even started, telling then-PGA Tour Commissioner Tim Finchem that Tiger was going to win.
“As my dad said Saturday night, ‘Son, this will probably be one of your toughest rounds of golf you’ve ever had to play. Just be yourself,'” Woods recounted. “He was right.”
Players who watched the performance struggled to find words. Paul Azinger compared Woods to “Michael Jordan in long pants,” and David Duval summed it up best: “The 1997 Masters wasn’t a ‘Hello, world’ moment. It was a ‘Watch out, world.'”
Even Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer agreed: Woods wasn’t just another Masters champion. They believed he could win more than all their Masters titles combined.
The numbers back it up. The final round of the 1997 Masters attracted around 44 million viewers in the U.S. — the highest-rated golf broadcast since at least 1977. Sponsors took note. Prize money on the PGA Tour exploded, jumping from around $71 million in 1996 to nearly $280 million within a decade. As Tom Watson put it, “It changed overnight.”
The “Tiger Effect” didn’t just transform golf’s bank accounts — it transformed who picked up a club.
In 1990, people of color made up only 8% of golfers. By 2000, that number had doubled. Fast forward to today, and according to the National Golf Foundation, 26% of new golfers are non-Caucasian, with women and girls making up about 60% of the net growth since 2019.
And if you’ve ever wondered why your local course suddenly added 500 yards to its layout or brags about being “Tiger-proofed,” well — now you know.
It’s easy to forget now, but before 1997, golf wasn’t seen as a sport for athletes. It was for, well…a very different crowd. After Tiger’s victory, players hit the gym. They changed how they trained. Golf started looking less like a gentleman’s hobby and more like a full-blown athletic pursuit.
Maybe the most mind-bending part? That historic win at Augusta was just the beginning. As CBS commentator Peter Kostis said, “That was basically the start of his career, and…from then on, we didn’t see him for the next 12 years” — because he was too busy winning everything else.
Tiger Woods didn’t just win the 1997 Masters. He didn’t just break records. He divided golf history into two eras: before Tiger, and after Tiger. As Brad Faxon said, looking back: “I don’t think anybody saw the domination coming.”
But once it arrived? Golf was never the same.