Waiting For Tiger

Wright Thompson: AUGUSTA, Ga. -- Three dudes with earpieces stand at the bottom of the stairs. They're dressed golf casual, but their square jaws give them away. It's early Monday morning. The sun just rose. The whole area smells like bacon, what with white-jacketed waiters scurrying back and forth with silver trays of crispy pork fat.

These three -- ex-military types -- are Tiger Woods' bodyguards, one wearing a white shirt, one wearing baby blue, one wearing red. They're in a triangle formation, with clear fields of vision, on the side of the clubhouse, where Woods is upstairs changing into golf spikes.

They're waiting.

"I don't know how long I can stand here smelling that breakfast," Blue Shirt says.

A guard drives up in a golf cart. The flash of movement causes White Shirt to react; the guard in the cart waves. The place is swarming. Cops nearby are packing heat. Masters security guys talk into their cuffs.