Depending on what the game of men’s professional golf wants to be when it grows up, the past six weeks have either been the best of times, or the worst.

An outlandish month and a half in the so-called gentlemen’s game reached an unexpected and extremely unwelcome crescendo Tuesday evening when Sergio Garcia, trying to one-up Tiger Woods in their childish, nearly two-week-long verbal spat, said he wanted to “serve fried chicken” to Woods if they were to have dinner together.

Whether he realized it himself, or was clued in quickly by his agent or a sponsor, Garcia apologized later that evening for his racist remark. Then, after what he said was a sleepless night, he was at it again Wednesday: “My answer was totally stupid and out of place. I can’t say sorry enough about that. … I feel sick about it. I’m truly, truly sorry.”

Woods, for his part, posted a few unflinching sentences on Twitter, including this one: “I’m confident that there is real regret that the remark was made.”

It’s a serious matter that is now attached to Garcia for the rest of his career, turning him into the 21st century version of Fuzzy Zoeller. It’s also a significant reminder that there still are relatively intelligent people in the world, and in the public eye, who apparently believe it’s just fine to tell a racist joke. This is not only bewildering, it’s terribly disappointing.

That said, who doesn’t want to see Garcia paired with Woods at next month’s U.S. Open near Philadelphia? We’re talking Philly, where Eagles fans once booed Santa Claus. Seriously, who wouldn’t turn on the TV to see that?

This is the crossroads at which the once so pure and untouchable game of golf finds itself. Haven’t the modern-day leaders of the sport said they really want to reach the masses? Well, there’s no better way to reach everyone, including the vast majority within our population who have never picked up a golf club, than by turning yourself into a reality TV show, which is just about what the last six weeks have been like on the PGA Tour.

Which means, heading into the game’s prime summer stretch, at a time when Woods is back to winning tournaments, the game is being overshadowed by its sideshows.

It all began at the Masters with the controversy over Woods’ illegal drop. The Masters rules committee blew it and Tiger blew it – but the fact that Woods kept playing rather than withdrawing, and was near the lead throughout the weekend, provided one whale of a story.

Might we also mention right here that Woods is now dating U.S. Olympic gold medal-winning skier Lindsey Vonn, who looks as good as he does on a red carpet and has been known to get airlifted off a mountain after crashing, only to check herself out of the hospital to come back and race again? And golfers think a sand save takes guts?

What’s a TV spectacle these days without a villain? In golf, to some, that’s Woods, or, now, Garcia. A couple of weeks ago, it was most definitely Vijay Singh, who is suing the PGA Tour after being exonerated on a doping charge. Yes, he won, and he’s still suing. Normally the bad guy sues when he loses. This was a plot twist few saw coming.

That same week at The Players Championship, Garcia accused Woods of inciting the gallery with a breach of golf etiquette, which led to their embarrassing school-boy complaining, pouting and name-calling. And finally, just this week, the powers that be in the game decided that those long, funny-looking, anchored belly putters would no longer be allowed as of 2016, although the PGA Tour has said it would like to keep them, which would create chaos in the game, and, of course, more controversy, and more headlines.

Who knew golf’s Silly Season actually was now? For golf purists, this is a terrible turn of events.

But it’s exactly this kind of nonsense that often attracts the multitudes. You could argue that the past six weeks have done more to capture fans’ interest, and their eyeballs, than at any time since Woods won his first major at the 1997 Masters. Golf isn’t the escape it used to be; it’s much more a mirror of our society. But even if the game is in the news for many of the wrong reasons, the bottom line is, it’s most definitely there.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

Sergio Garcia and Tiger Woods have been acting like fourth-grade boys for much of the past two weeks, pointing fingers and whining and complaining and making jokes about each other and generally embarrassing themselves and their game.

With one completely unacceptable racist comment Tuesday night, Garcia took the battle to a new and ugly place.

At a hastily-called news conference Wednesday morning at the BMW PGA Championship in England, Garcia apologized profusely for saying he would “serve fried chicken” to Woods if he asked him to go to dinner at next month’s U.S. Open.

“My answer was totally stupid and out of place,” a wilted Garcia said. “I can’t say sorry enough about that. … I feel sick about it. I’m truly, truly sorry.”

Garcia apologized in general first, then to the European Tour and his Ryder Cup teammates, then, “finally, most importantly,” he said, to Woods. It’s not quibbling to ask why Garcia didn’t mention Woods by name first. He should have done that. If you’re apologizing to someone, apologize to him right off the bat.

But, Garcia did sound sincere, and he looked miserable. When he said he had “a sick feeling” right after the European Tour Players’ Awards dinner, where he made his remarks, that was certainly believable. So was his comment that he “wasn’t able to sleep. … I felt like my heart was going to come out of my body.”

One would have hoped that the 33-year-old Garcia would have known this would have been the reaction when he made a “fried chicken” joke about a black man, but Garcia’s immaturity has been on display for years, and this was no exception.

This is the latest chapter in the Sergio-Tiger spat that began when Garcia accused Woods of poor etiquette that led, he contended, to a bad shot at The Players Championship. As the little war of words continued across the Atlantic, Garcia clearly was trying to one-up Woods once more. What a mistake that was, on so many levels. It was a terrible flub, a verbal own-goal, if you will.

Several times in his short news conference Garcia talked about “moving forward.” At one point, he said he wanted to “move forward and kind of forget about the whole thing.” That’s not going to happen. This remark will follow him the rest of his career, and his life. If and when some other golfer utters a racist comment, Garcia will be mentioned in the very next breath, with Fuzzy Zoeller. This is now a big slice of Garcia’s future.

It would have been logical to think that the sport of golf would have learned its lesson when Zoeller made his 1997 comment about Woods serving “friend chicken … or collard greens or whatever the hell they serve” at the Masters’ champion’s dinner.

While those remarks are attached to Zoeller to this day, ironically enough Garcia said he had never heard them until he was told about them Wednesday before he met with the news media. “I was only 17 years old. I really didn’t know about it.”

How is that possible? Garcia has been a presence in U.S. golf since 1999, when he battled Woods to the end before losing the PGA Championship to him. To say he didn’t know about Zoeller is stunning, and inexcusable.

Woods does not plan to respond to Garcia’s latest comments from England, but he offered several strong remarks on Twitter after Garcia’s earlier apology Tuesday night, including this: “I’m confident that there is real regret that the remark was made.”

If that’s the case, and it appears that it is, then some semblance of progress is being made out of an incendiary and extremely unfortunate situation. Garcia always has been an amusing athlete, but not today. Perhaps he has finally learned that he can no longer act like a kid, but must begin to behave as the nearly middle-aged man he is and the role model he should be.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

Vijay Singh is one of the least sympathetic figures in sports, and deservedly so. He openly rooted for Annika Sorenstam to miss the cut when she made the ground-breaking decision to play a PGA Tour event in 2003. He was suspended after being accused of changing his scorecard to make the cut at the 1985 Indonesian Open. And even though he now has been cleared by the PGA Tour of any wrongdoing, he did use a product, deer antler spray, that the Tour warned in August 2011 included a banned substance.

On Wednesday morning, Singh outdid himself, suing the PGA Tour on the eve of its showcase event, The Players Championship, over the way it handled the doping allegations against him, saying it exposed him “to public humiliation and ridicule for months.” This from a man who was cleared of the allegations. One can only imagine the lawsuit he would have filed if he had actually been found guilty and suspended for 90 days.

At first glance, this would appear to be bad news for the Tour, and not so good for Singh either, who isn’t going to win any new golfing buddies by taking on the entity that gives all of them their fabulous lifestyles.

But taking a second look, this might be just the rude awakening the pristine world of golf needs to the often dark and messy but vitally important world of international drug testing. Professional golf is relatively new to the drug testing business, beginning in 2008. (Drug testing at the Olympic Games began in earnest in 1972.) When pro golf started testing, there were those in the sport who maintained it didn’t need drug testing because the players are so honorable they call penalties on themselves and always do the right thing. Yes, they actually said that, and apparently really believed it. This of course was before the 2013 Masters.

Some golfers even went so far as to complain publicly about the policy of having to produce a urine sample while being watched by a trained drug tester, calling it an invasion of privacy. Olympians such as Michael Phelps, Gabby Douglas and Abby Wambach would call it something else: normal operating procedure for international drug testing.

If multi-millionaire pro golfers think they have it tough now with in-competition testing, reading the labels on supplements and trying to figure out which substances are on the banned list and which are not, just wait until the year leading up to the 2016 Olympic Games. Remember the joy in the golf world when it became an Olympic sport? Be careful what you wish for. Blood testing is coming for all those male and female golfers who are candidates for their Olympic teams. So is random, knock-on-the-door, year-round testing. This is what Olympians go through for the privilege of representing their country at the Winter and Summer Games. NBA players in the Olympics have been dealing with it for some time. Now, it will be the golfers’ turn.

Even with its current starter-kit drug testing plan, the past few years have not gone entirely smoothly for the PGA Tour. In 2009, Doug Barron became the first player suspended under the Tour’s anti-doping policy when he tested positive for high levels of testosterone. He sued, the case was settled and he returned to the game.

Now there’s Singh. He wasn’t suspended and he still sued. So the PGA Tour is batting 1.000: two high-profile doping cases, two lawsuits. If this pace continues – and why wouldn’t it? – the PGA Tour would be wise to consider becoming the first major professional sport to turn over the administration of its drug testing program to the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, the independent American drug police who recently brought Lance Armstrong to justice.

When Armstrong filed a lawsuit, he didn’t sue USA Cycling, he sued USADA. Golf, Major League Baseball and all the other big pro sports trying to do it all would be well-served to let the true doping professionals run their entire drug programs, and let them take the heat for it as well.

But that isn’t likely to happen any time soon. Which means sports officials whose sole job should be to administer their sport and promote their athletes now are in the business of doing all that as well as trying to catch their cheating players in the most intricate game of cat and mouse the sports world has ever seen.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

Former Green Bay Packers safety LeRoy Butler sent out a simple tweet Monday afternoon: “Congrats to Jason Collins.” It wasn’t even a full tweet. It was more of a quick, kind, electronic nod to a man in another sport who had made a big personal decision that became public that day.

One would think that someone saying something nice about a fellow human being would be seen in a positive light by almost anyone in this challenging, sometimes hate-strewn world of ours. In particular, you would guess that those who run our churches and other houses of worship would especially appreciate the kindness of one man toward another.

Then, early Wednesday morning, Butler sent another tweet.

“Wow, I was schedule(d) to speak at a church in WI, and a member said that the pastor wants to cancel my event, I said ok why?”

And another.

“Then I was told, because I said congrats to Jason Collins on twitter. I said really? we have a contract. he said check the moral (clause)”

A few minutes later, Butler, who has been retired from the NFL for 11 seasons, posted again on his Twitter account:

“FYI the fee was 8500$, then I was told if i removed the tweet, and apologize and ask god forgiveness, I can have the event, I said no.”

The story of Jason Collins’ announcement that he is gay has given us one clearly identifiable, courageous and historic figure. That’s Collins. It also has revealed at least one unintentional hero, a man whose simple act of kindness apparently sickened those who would be the first to tell us they are preaching the word of God. That’s Butler.

This Wisconsin church remains unnamed because Butler has politely chosen not to reveal it. But we do know a little bit about it. It obviously requires anyone who plans to speak there to sign a statement – a “morals clause” – pledging, for instance, that he or she won’t say anything nice about gay people. Now that is one unusual church. Say this for that congregation: It must make life so much easier when you don’t have to concern yourself with all that “Do unto others” stuff.

In later tweets, Butler said, “I have received an apology from the church, but mainly thanking me for not releasing the church name, (to) me that’s not important.” He also said he found out that “some parents went to the church and complained about my tweet for support of Jason Collins.”

He finished with two words: “So sad.”

He could have added two more: “So illuminating.”

We have learned a lot about a few so-called religious people in the past few days. Many of us were raised in a church. I was. So was Butler, and he had the good sense to quote his mother to sum it all up:

“Also my mom says the message is bigger anyway, by the way I was raised in the church, and attend 3 to 4 times a month.”

We can guess what the parents of that church were trying to shield their children from: even the hint of a discussion of gay people in American life. These, of course, are children who go to school and go to church, have or will have gay classmates and friends, and someday will be adults living in a country that is almost certain to view gays as equal under the law.

The church’s decision to disinvite Butler, though, ultimately prevents the kids from hearing from a four-time Pro Bowler who invented the Lambeau Leap, a man who is known for his work with churches in the state, and who, since his retirement, has thrown himself into his philanthropic work.

Lord knows you wouldn’t want the kids to hear about that.

PHOTOS: Jason Collins’ career

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History was made this morning when the first active male athlete in a major U.S. team sport announced that he is gay. He’s Washington Wizards center Jason Collins. He stands 7 feet tall, weighs 255 pounds, has started almost 500 NBA games and is known as a durable, strong, physical, team-oriented big man.

So much for stereotypes. Whatever any of us pictured when we thought of or heard the words “gay man,” we now have received a wonderful view of who that man actually is. Through Collins, we also have been given an enlightened and intelligent view about so many of our fellow citizens, neighbors, friends and role models.

If a tough, 7-foot NBA veteran can be gay, can’t just about any athlete be gay? Oh, and anybody got a problem with that?

It’s not just sports history that took place when Collins told Sports Illustrated his gripping, classy and courageous story. It’s U.S. history. Just as Jackie Robinson played such an important role in American desegregation, and Billie Jean King in the advancement of women’s rights, so too will Collins with the march to equal rights for gay Americans, and those around the world as well.

This news is that big of a deal. Coming from the macho, industrial-strength world of men’s professional sports, it’s nothing short of a watershed moment in the sweep of American history. If we listen to all the sports radio shock jocks and nameless, faceless screamers in the rafters and the old-time assistant coaches asking antiquated and illegal questions at the scouting combine, big, strapping NBA and NFL guys aren’t supposed to be gay.

Women’s sports? Sure. We can never discount the strength of Martina Navratilova, Sheryl Swoopes, Brittney Griner and so many others, but their news doesn’t really shock us. Artistic men’s sports? Of course. Greg Louganis and Rudy Galindo are heroes a hundred times over, but again, we are hardly surprised.

But big, tough Jason Collins? Really?

That’s exactly what makes this news so important.

“On the court I graciously accept one label sometimes bestowed on me: ‘the pro’s pro,’ ” Collins told SI. “I got that handle because of my fearlessness and my commitment to my teammates. I take charges and I foul — that’s been my forte. In fact, during the 2004-05 season my 322 personals led the NBA. I enter the court knowing I have six hard fouls to give. I set picks with my 7-foot, 255-pound body to get guys like Jason Kidd, John Wall and Paul Pierce open. I sacrifice myself for other players. I look out for teammates as I would my kid brother.

“I go against the gay stereotype,” he continued, “which is why I think a lot of players will be shocked: That guy is gay? But I’ve always been an aggressive player, even in high school. Am I so physical to prove that being gay doesn’t make you soft? Who knows? That’s something for a psychologist to unravel. My motivations, like my contributions, don’t show up in box scores, and frankly I don’t care about stats. Winning is what counts. I want to be evaluated as a team player.”

Taking one for the team just took on a whole new meaning.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

While watching the tragic news coming from the finish line of the Boston Marathon today, I recognized the sound made by those two bombs going off on the videotaped footage we’ve already seen over and over again.

I heard a similar sound in the early morning hours of July 27, 1996, from my hotel room at the Atlanta Olympic Games.

I had just returned to my room in the media hotel overlooking the Olympic Park when a loud, powerful explosion occurred outside my second-floor window. A band was playing in the park, and, for a moment, I wondered if the sound I heard was part of the act.

As I kept watching, my worst fears were confirmed when I saw a column of police cars and rescue vehicles moving toward the scene. It was one long line of flashing lights. I turned on CNN. I looked out the window again. I was looking at the same scene.

A home-made bomb full of nails had gone off inside the park. One woman was killed that night and a cameraman died of a heart attack while covering the news story. More than 100 other people were injured. The Olympics paused on a rainy Saturday morning to remember the victims, then continued on through an incredibly somber weekend. I was working in my room 12 hours after the blast and looked up to see a police officer walking outside my window ledge. I found out later that he was looking for shrapnel.

Terrorism had hit the Olympic Games once before, in 1972 in Munich, when 11 Israeli athletes and coaches were killed by Black September terrorists who sneaked into the athletes’ village and took them hostage.

We’re all about lists in sports, so here’s another:

The Olympics in 1972. The Olympics in 1996. The Boston Marathon in 2013.

Sadly, there is likely to be another sports event added to the list someday, hopefully not soon — hopefully never — but we know the strong possibility exists in our post-September 11 world that it can and will happen again.

Our sports events are national spectacles. They are protected as we protect almost nothing else in our society. The authorities do their absolute best to keep these events safe — with metal detectors and bag searches and an often overwhelming police presence — and they almost always succeed. Think about how you enter a mall or movie theater. Then think about how you enter a stadium. It’s often very different.

It’s remarkable, really, in this day and age that the people who protect our sporting venues have the success rate that they do. Consider last summer’s London Olympic Games. We all know what happened, that Michael Phelps and Gabby Douglas and Missy Franklin were among the American stars, that British athletes had a terrific Olympics and that the Games went off without a hitch.

Now think about what didn’t happen. In the massive international city of London, nearly 11 years after Sept. 11, 2001, at the largest regularly scheduled gathering of the world, thousands of athletes came, competed and safely went home without incident. Talk about your sports upsets. As far as we in the news media know, there was not even one phoned-in bomb threat across the 2 1/2 weeks of the Games. That truly is a miracle in today’s world.

So, now, the Boston Marathon. There is no way on earth for a society such as ours to ensure that a sports event covering 26 miles and 385 yards is going to be completely safe. Today, we have been reminded of that in the saddest of ways.

I’ve covered Boston a half dozen times, and have always marveled at what a joyous civic event it is. It isn’t simply a marathon. It’s a local, national and even international symbol of recreation, achievement and personal and communal celebration.

That’s why all the over-the-air networks pre-empted their programming for non-stop coverage of the tragedy this afternoon. Who doesn’t know about Patriots’ Day in Boston? Who doesn’t know someone training for a marathon, if not Boston, then New York, or a local race?

Ultimately, what happened today at the finish line of the most famous road race in the world has almost nothing to do with sports. When someone attacks the Boston Marathon, they attack all of us.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

AUGUSTA, Ga. — Adam Scott did more than win the Masters on Sunday. His gripping playoff duel with his friend Angel Cabrera saved the tournament from itself.

Distracted, if not outright tainted, by the controversial ruling that allowed Tiger Woods to keep playing over the weekend, the Masters righted itself with a magnificent, rain-soaked battle between two Presidents Cup teammates, an Australian and Argentinian, who were so closely matched that on the first playoff hole, their approach shots might as well have been filled with magnets, rolling to a stop a few feet from each other on the slope in front of the green.

Scott, 32, who had never won a major and lost last year’s British Open by bogeying the final four holes, made up for a frustrating Sunday of missed putts by sinking a 20-footer on the 18th hole. His reaction was one of delight, for himself, certainly, but also for his golf-crazy country, which had never had a Masters champion. (See Norman, Greg, et al.)

“Come on, Aussie!” he roared. He high-fived everyone in sight — his caddie, Steve Williams, who had definitely been here before, and practically every fan on his way to sign his scorecard.

He took the lead by one stroke. It was logical to think that he would win the Masters. “I might have showed that,” he said later with a laugh. “I was pumped. I had to seize it right there.”

But it was not over, because right behind him, in the last group of the day, came Cabrera, the 43-year-old grandfather and winner of the 2009 Masters. He stuck his approach on 18 to within three feet, made it, and the game was on.

They played 18 again as their first playoff hole. A chip-off ended in a draw. They went to No. 10, where Bubba Watson won last year’s Masters. Some serious sportsmanship broke out on the fairway when Cabrera gave Scott a thumb’s up across the lush green landscape after his shot, and Scott gestured his congratulations back to his rival. The game of golf, which took quite a beating with the Woods controversy over the weekend, needed this.

“Angel is a great man,” Scott said later. “I think he’s a gentleman and to do that at that point was very nice. With limited abilities to converse (Cabrera speaks Spanish exclusively), we would consider each other friends and have a lot of respect for each other.”

At the 2009 Presidents Cup, when Scott was not playing well, Cabrera pulled him aside:

“He said a great thing to me: ‘You’re a great, great player.’ That’s something I didn’t forget.”

Onto the final moments of the 2013 Masters: On the 10th green, Cabrera, always the fiercest of competitors, if not the most surprising, in these situations, nearly made his curling attempt at birdie, the ball hanging on the lip. Then it was Scott’s turn. He relied on Williams, Woods’ former caddie, to give him the read of the 12-foot putt. It was right on the money, dropping in to end the duel in the darkness.

“I’m a proud Australian,” Scott said, “and I hope this sits very well back at home. It’s amazing it’s my destiny to be the first Aussie to win.”

As irony would have it, Woods didn’t win, but his old caddie did. Williams was on the bag when Tiger won 13 of his 14 majors, and Woods hasn’t won one since they split. But Scott now has.

As for Woods, he left Augusta in bitter disappointment. Ranked No. 1 in the world, he had won three of the five PGA Tour tournaments he played coming into the Masters. He was on a roll. He said he was as ready as he’ll ever be to win another major. This was his tournament to lose, and he lost it.

At 37, he still likely has years to play, but Sunday’s final round showed how the floodgates have opened with young golfers from around the world over the past few years: men who grew up watching Woods play, wanted to emulate him in every way and absolutely are not afraid of him.

For that, among many reasons, it is now five years since Woods has won a major — a whopping 19 majors without a victory for Woods since his dramatic 2008 U.S. Open triumph on a bad leg at Torrey Pines.

He told himself he had to shoot 7-under-par 65 to win Sunday — and he didn’t get close, shooting two-under 70 after an uncharacteristically shaky start, with two bogeys in the first seven holes. He was right, too. If he had shot a total of 10-under, which a 65 would have given him, he would have beaten Scott and Cabrera by a shot.

Woods’ finish — a tie for fourth — allowed Augusta National officials to breathe a sigh of relief. Woods was penalized two shots Saturday after it was deemed he took an illegal drop on the 15th hole Friday, but he was allowed to keep playing due to a controversial, two-year-old, little-known rule dealing with information phoned in by public whistle-blowers.

It was not difficult to imagine what the outcry would have been from the rules-driven game of golf had a man who in the end signed an incorrect scorecard won the Masters. When Scott won, he ensured that this Masters would never be known as the Masterisk.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

AUGUSTA, Ga. — It’s a given in sports that golfers, professional and amateur alike, will always tell you that their sport is much better than any other, that it’s so honorable and classy and timeless.

They’ll say that golfers are the last athletes to have the decency to still call penalties on themselves; that golfers don’t need to be drug tested because they don’t cheat; that golf as a sport is more pure, more simple.

The 77th Masters, however, is sending out a whole new message from the game: Never mind.

Golf as we knew it took a big hit Saturday. A man who signed an incorrect scorecard yet still was allowed by Masters rules officials to keep playing is tied for seventh, four strokes from the lead after three rounds of the Masters. That man, of course, is Tiger Woods.

In 1968, at this very tournament, Argentina’s Roberto De Vicenzo finished tied for first after the final round, did the exact same thing, signing for the wrong score, was not given a reprieve and didn’t win.

After 45 years, golf ethics obviously aren’t what they used to be.

The leaders of Augusta National Golf Club like to think of themselves as stewards of the game. Now, they are the engineers of its weakening. They badly mishandled a review of the videotape of Woods’ illegal drop on the 15th hole Friday, not finding fault with it before Woods signed his scorecard, then continued to embarrass themselves with a convoluted back and forth throughout the morning Saturday. The last time I saw so many officials trying so hard to explain a sports decision, I was at a figure skating venue.

Augusta National’s broadcast partner also did little to distinguish itself. CBS analyst Nick Faldo twisted himself into all kinds of knots taking practically every position possible on the Woods infraction and the two golf rules that came into play.

Saturday morning on Golf Channel, Faldo struck the perfect tone in urging Woods to withdraw for the good of the game. “Tiger should really sit down and think about this and what it will leave on his legacy,” Faldo said. “Personally, I think this is dreadful.”

It was a position echoed by others in the game, that making up the rules as they go along was not the way golf was supposed to be governed, and that Woods would be seen as a hero for doing the right thing after signing an incorrect scorecard, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

But by the time CBS was on the air that afternoon, Faldo had stunningly changed his tune, saying that “the timeline” of the incident — how Woods’ comments on ESPN led Augusta to give him a two-stroke penalty rather than disqualifying him — seemed “correct” and that Woods should be allowed to keep playing because of a new, two-year-old rule that now apparently allows for such things.

Faldo then had a bit more to say after Woods finished his round. Older players of Faldo’s generation would tend to think, he said, that “if you break the rule and sign an incorrect scorecard, you disqualify yourself, but we’re in a new era with new rules. We have to accept that now.”

There was no end to the embarrassment for CBS. Commentator David Feherty said those who thought Woods should have withdrawn should have seen the large crowd that was forming around him on the back nine.

So there you have it: Why worry about ethics when fans are flocking to Tiger?

What in the world has happened to the game of golf? Then again, Feherty’s comment probably was the most honest uttered on Saturday. The Masters couldn’t disqualify its star, even though officials of course denied that had anything to do with it.

So, after a day like this, what does the Masters deserve Sunday? A Tiger Woods victory, that’s what:

Tainted, controversial and the perfect ending for a flawed event.

Twitter already is prepared for the moment with a name for this year’s tournament: Masterisk.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

AUGUSTA, Ga. — Tiger Woods said it best Friday: “Rules are rules.” He was talking about the 14-year-old amateur’s slow play penalty. He should have been talking about himself.

Even though he was given a pass by the Masters rules committee Saturday morning, Woods still should have disqualified himself for taking an illegal drop on the 15th hole Friday. He should not have allowed a committee to make a decision that he should have made for himself. He should have done the right thing, taken the course of action dozens have taken before him, and withdrawn after not following the rules of golf.

Because he didn’t do that, because he got by on a loophole, he has ensured that this controversy will follow him throughout his career. That’s because golf is the last major sport in which the athletes call penalties on themselves, and because these kinds of moments are remembered forever in the game.

And, if he wins the Masters on Sunday, the victory will be tainted, now and for as long as people talk about this tournament.

Woods told ESPN on Friday after taking a drop on the 15th hole that he moved back “2 yards” to basically give himself a better shot at the green. It was a clear competitive advantage. Rule 26-1 says a golfer must “play a ball as nearly as possible at the spot” from which he or she originally hit it. Woods absolutely did not do that, and golfers around the world know that. How many hundreds of times have golfers, pro and amateur alike, dropped their ball right on top of the divot, no matter how disappointed they are about their previous shot? That, folks, is the game of golf.

Woods knew he didn’t do that, and yet, as of Saturday morning, he still had not disqualified himself from the tournament, relying instead on the committee to give him a two-stroke penalty and allow him to play on.

It’s really quite stunning. Golf is full of the stories of dozens of golfers who disqualify themselves in times like this. Woods knows that, and for him to still be silent on this subject is truly a sad moment in his career.

How convoluted this all is. The committee said in a statement Saturday morning that it reviewed the drop when a TV viewer alerted the Masters that Woods had broken the rules. This review was going on as Woods was playing the 18th hole Friday. The committee decided then that he had “complied with the rules” and all was well.

Then came the ESPN interview, which was tantamount to saying he broke the rule. But in a meeting Saturday morning, Woods was let off the hook by the committee because officials had cleared him Friday before he signed his scorecard and didn’t believe it was fair to then disqualify him. What a lucky turn of events for Woods, who knew better but still let the officials make the decision for him.

No one wants to see Woods leave the Masters. Is the golf tournament much better off with Tiger Woods in it? Absolutely. Will the ratings be far better? Of course. But that should not be part of the calculation.

Golf is a game that is played by the strictest set of rules, and is loved and admired for it. Woods’ refusal to disqualify himself the moment he found out about his mistake forever changes his reputation, and the game’s.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.

AUGUSTA, Ga. – It happens practically every year now. Fred Couples, 53, is as reliable as the azaleas at Augusta National. He comes to the Masters and moves into the lead.

Couples barely plays anymore on the PGA Tour – just one event so far this year, a tie for 46th at Riviera in Los Angeles. He has played in three Champions Tour events in 2013, finishing second, fourth and tied for 12th.

Basically, for all most of us know, he plays one tournament a year, the one he won in 1992, the Masters.

Twice in the previous three years since turning 50, Couples has led a round of the Masters. He did it in 2010 and 2012, and he almost did it again Friday, standing atop the leaderboard for most of the day at 5-under before Jason Day moved ahead of him in the tournament’s final hour.

“Fred loves this place,” said 55-year-old Bernhard Langer, the two-time Masters champion who showed up on the leaderboard here for awhile himself Friday, finishing at 2 under. “I talked to him yesterday. He’s played here 28 times, and he’s only missed (two cuts). So this is his second home.”

“I did tee off Thursday with the idea of playing well,” Couples said after shooting his second consecutive round under par, a 68 followed by a 71. “Now it’s Friday afternoon late, I mean, I’m surprised, but I’m not like, you know, going to freak out over it.”

In 2010, Couples led after a first-round 66 and ended up finishing sixth. In 2011, he never was an overnight leader after any round, but he finished tied for 15th. And last year, he held the lead halfway through the tournament, but shot 75-72 on the weekend to drop into a tie for 12th.

“It didn’t happen last year,” Couples said. “I was 4-over pretty fast on Saturday, which was a real bummer. And then on Sunday, you know, I played well enough to finish in a good spot.”

How does he keep doing this?

“I hit the ball a long way,” he said. “And I don’t have this kind of memory, but I know last year I putted very, very well. I think I was up there in putting and I drove the ball pretty well. The last two days, I’ve driven the ball nicely, and so it seems like the same old course for me. So then you get into: Am I good enough to play four good rounds in a row on a course like this?”

That question follows him year after year. So far, the answer has been no, he’s not. But, to paraphrase the well-known sports bromide, there’s always this year.

“I would like to have another run,” he said. “As I said, last year, (I) struggled right off the bat and really (was) a non-factor on Saturday, and that was not really much fun. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a little different and I will play well and have a shot at Sunday. I mean, that’s my goal. But it is hard. I’m not going to kid you. I mean, it’s a hard course. I’m really tired.”

The grind of playing on a tough day with the wind kicking up and the pin placements far more difficult than the opening round was softened by the fact that Couples feels good physically. His notoriously bad back is not giving him any trouble at all. “No, if it was a problem,” he said, “I wouldn’t be playing like this.”

For an old guy, Couples is as popular as any player who comes here every year. And when he plays well, there is no one who is a more jovial interview. Asked why people think he’s so cool, he laughed.

“You know, I’m cool, but I can be a jerk, too,” he said, smiling. “I’m a cool jerk. And I don’t really get mad. I mean, I’ve broken clubs — and for 33 years, maybe three times or four times — so I don’t get too frustrated.”

Perhaps perspective makes up for advancing age, especially on a course as long and taxing as this one. Langer was asked if it’s possible for a man in his 50s to still win this tournament.

“I think it’s possible,” he said, adding, “I always thought that Freddie, with his length, can win it, because he hits it a good 30 yards by me, which helps a great deal on some of these holes. For me to win, everything has to go my way. I got to start making some putts most of all. So I’ll be working on that.”

While Langer will be focusing on his putting, Couples will be hoping to stay near the lead for another round. It’s just another normal Masters weekend for these two golfers, combined age 108.

Copyright © 2013 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.