His name is Tiger for crum’s sake. Not Kitten or Monkey or Bunny or Puppy. He’s Tiger. Tiger Woods. It would be a great name for anybody on the face of the planet, much less the premier athlete in a sport that just happens to be GOLF. And it’s not just the first name. Its how the two names go together. Tiger Putter fails to cut it for obvious reasons. As does Tiger Hybrid. Ditto Tiger Sand Wedge, and Mr. Mashee. It’s got to be Woods. A master off the tee. So Woods is not only perfect, it’s apt. Face it. It’s the best name ever. And it’s not fair. It’s unfair. Has to be intimidating. How is a guy named Lefty supposed to compete? A Bubba or a Fuzzy versus a Tiger? No contest. And that’s pretty much it. Which is so weak. And let’s not even talk about poor Stewart Cink. A man whose moniker cries out for a nickname, yet, sadly, none. Okay. The Shark. Maybe. But this isn’t a swimming or an eating competition. Except for some random water on the course, how does a shark maneuver around greens and fairways and woods? Woods. There it is again. Which woods? Tiger Woods. And you wonder why he dominates. It’s got to be the name.