A week of major championship golf unfolds not unlike a novel.  In the beginning we meet (or are re-introduced to) the characters.  For The Masters we recall Bobby Jones, his desire to further the game, his fondness for the amateur (having forever remained one himself).  We see past champions and remember their triumphs, the old successes give context and texture to this year's event.  A few story lines emerge.  Will Fred Couples break Gary Player's record for consecutive cuts made, will Player himself break Arnold Palmer's record for most appearances, how is Palmer dealing with his new role as golfer emeritus, as honorary starter only?  What about this year's amateurs?  How will they and other first-timers perform?  And of course there is the protagonist Tiger Woods.  Will anyone challenge him?  Or is the Tiger of past years his only competition?

Then play starts and, as in the novel, some stories die and others cohere.  Couples, with a balky putter never more apparent than on his 36th hole, misses the cut by one stroke.  Player plays and shoots 83-78 to finish last but vows to return next year and in his post-round interview announces his plan - at age 75 - to increase his weight training.  Palmer, for all his charm, looks weary and during a small lapse betrays himself.  "I feel old," he says.  "I guess I'm not supposed to say that."

None of the amateurs will play the weekend, although one (Michael Thompson) calls a penalty on himself to allow the broadcasters to issue familiar praise for the integrity and honor of golf.  As for those who do play well, there is the leader Trevor Immelman, who positions himself to be the first South-African since Gary Player to win (of course he won't).  There is Brandt Snedeker who's played the course many times, by virtue of having won a national amateur event in 2004 (this no doubt pleases Bobby Jones but Brandt won't win either).  There is Ian Poulter, just 3 shots back, thanks in part to his hole-in-one on Thursday at the 16th.  There is  Phil Mickelson, looking relatively fit, playing well and cracking wise.  And there is the real story, the one that lurks, the one that waits to emerge until tomorrow's back nine.  There is our potagonist.  There is Tiger Woods.

Tiger is not playing especially well this week; if he were he'd win by 8.  But we need only look at Justin Rose on the 15th yesterday to realize why Tiger will win.  Justin, from 60 yards out, chunked his 3rd into the water, dropped 4, bladed 5 over the green and made a triple bogey 8, effectively ruining his chances.  Why?  He was unable to control his nerves, which is a polite way of saying he choked.

As we enter the last half of this novel the suspense is created by the wonder of whether the field will fold.  We know that Tiger won't.  For whatever reason he is slightly off this week and will probably only get to 4 under par.  The question is whether the others can maintain and discard what they've got, namely a lead of a few shots and egos that are fragile.  But for Tiger, the players at The Masters are each like Joyce's character whose "emotional barometer was set for a spell of riot." 

Look for Tiger to win by 1, for Tiger to win by attrition.