Instead of a Big Home Run, Tiger Hits More Foul Balls

Home is where the cart is.

Bing, bang, bong went Tiger Woods’ first shot Saturday, rattling around the TV trucks in a parking lot next to the golf cart shed.

“Interesting, wasn’t it?” Woods said.

Home is where the dart is.

On the 13th hole Saturday, Woods nailed his tee shot so tightly into the base of a eucalyptus tree that he was forced to chip out to the fairway ... left-handed.

“So bad it was scary,” said the switch-hitter.

Home is where the wart is.

Six times, Woods has competed professionally in the Nissan Open, the closest PGA tournament to his old Cypress neighborhood.

Six times, the Nissan has won, Saturday being the latest chapter in the worst homecoming around these parts since Darryl Strawberry.

“It’s only six times,” Woods protested, although this is the most he has played any tournament without a victory. “Geez.”

His language is the only thing that improved on a day when a usually blaring game was switched to vibrate.

Woods summoned the word “bogey” more than the guy who once sat in the 12th hole tree. He disappeared in deep sand traps and behind giant scowls. He didn’t reemerge until the 18th hole, which he birdied with outstretched arms and a nutty laugh.

“The suffering was over,” he said.

He shot a two-over-par 73, for an overall score of par-213 that left him 11 strokes behind Charles Howell III, who

now leads a tournament in something besides bad Gilligan jokes.

On Thursday, we heard Woods scold.

On Saturday, in an occurrence far more amazing, we heard Woods concede.

“The way it looks right now, I just need to try and play solid tomorrow and get some momentum going into next week,” he said.

The leader is a guy as thin as his shafts, and as young as his divots, and you’re out of it?

“If I came out tomorrow and shot a 62, I’d still only be nine under,” he said. “And I don’t expect [Howell] to come back the way he’s playing.”

Home is like that, no? It strips away the years. It peels off the masks. It turns you into a child again.

Riviera knows Woods better than anyone. It knew him when he was just another kid with an overbearing dad, a junior surrounded by racial taunts, a wide-eyed amateur fighting the hype.

Riviera knows where Woods is tough, and where he can be vexed. Riviera knows how to push Woods like no other course, and when it started pushing in those places Saturday, Woods knew he had no chance.

“You have to strike the ball pure on four straight days here, or you have no chance,” Woods said.

After putting his first tee shot into the TV compound -- Riviera has also never given Woods a mulligan -- his search for that purity stained his game like spots of mud uncharacteristically splattered on the cuffs of his light pants.

He began shooting for every green, over every trap, in an all-or-nothing approach as he kept falling further behind.

He pulled out three consecutive birdies midway through the round to pull within single-digit strokes.

But he hit his tee shot on the 12th hole into the right rough. Upon reaching the ball, he spotted an empty gallery chair, and promptly sat it in. He should have stayed there, as he hit a poor approach and a poor putt for a bogey.

On the 13th hole, it got worse, when he was required to flip over his nine-iron and hit a left-handed shot off a tree, leading to another bogey.

By the time he reached the 15th hole, two unusual trends had appeared in his giant gallery.

First, they began openly questioning him, shouting things like, “He’s got no

game!”

Second, they were no longer his exclusive gallery, as many stayed behind to watch the leading groups.

David Lopez, the genial fellow toting the walking scoreboard for Woods’ group, repeatedly was approached by disbelieving fans staring at Woods’ green-numbered, over-par score.

“Everybody is disappointed,” Lopez said. “But they’re not really feeling sorry for him.”

Of course not. Nobody treats you tougher than those who know you best. Tiger Woods was reminded of that Saturday on a day when he hit barely half of the fairways and had none of the magic.

By the 18th hole, the cause had become so desperate that Woods resorted to silliness.

Sitting 143 yards from the hole after a majestic 311-yard drive, he bet caddie Steve Williams that he would birdie the hole.

“If I parred the hole, he wouldn’t have to carry my clubs on Sunday,” Woods said. “But if I birdied it, he would.”

Woods knocked his approach shot to within six feet, laughingly dropped the iron for Williams to retrieve, and walked up to eventually complete his birdie.

When he tees off this morning in the unfamiliar second Sunday group, at least he will not have to worry about his bag.

The weight of another lost year in his most beloved place, however, Tiger Woods will have to handle alone.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.