Tiger Woods won the 2000 U.S. Open by 15 strokes. The previous record for a major golf tournament was 13 strokes, and that was set back in 1862 by a guy named Old Tom Morris who won the third British Open. When you figure that Morris was probably playing against a few mates from the pub, the next most dominant performance came at the 1997 Masters. The one Woods won by 12 strokes.

I'm really not writing a sports column here. I'm just curious: How does someone, any one person get so much better than everyone else?

Until about a year ago, most folks in the golfing world thought Woods' 1997 show at Augusta was a fluke. Can't happen again. There are too many good golfers in the world. And then, since last May, Woods has won 12 of 21 PGA tournaments. He's won two of the last three major tourneys. He's playing better and winning more often than anyone in the history of golf.

This performance was like Andre Agassi beating Pete Sampras at love at Wimbledon, or at least 6-1, 6-1, 6-1. This was like the 1985 Bears playoff run, but team sports are much easier to predict than individual events. Even Michael Johnson's astonishing 200-400 double at the 1996 Olympics doesn't come close.

It's more than ability. It's more than tenacity. It's more than simple game knowledge or wisdom. It's all of those, and something else, something indefinable.

It's all the stuff those dreadful "I pulled the cheese" and "skinny-dipping with sharks" business books try to sell. Except that even if you believe all the malarkey, you still stutter through your presentation and then get busted a few hours later when trying to console yourself with a handjob on the street. Normal people make mistakes.

Alright, so did Woods. He bogeyed a few holes. But for the most part, he was about as perfect as it gets. In one of the ultimate high-pressure situations, he thrived. Most people fold.

That's why I was watching, I guess. I really don't like golf. Back in my youth, I followed local boy Tom Watson as he won a couple green jackets, a multitude of British Opens and that wild 1982 U.S. Open. I know a little bit about the history of the game. I even bought a set of six clubs for $15 in 1983. After whacking in the weeds for about a month, I gave up. Not my game. As I've grown crustier, I've tended to view golf as a sport generally played by rich white guys who look down on the rest of society. I don't think I'm far off there.

So for me to sit and watch at least part of every round of this tournament, something special must have been happening. And it was. But it's not so much in relation to the golf world as to the overall world that I see Woods' feat.

To have the ability, the confidence to succeed and the worldwide stage to do it on is something that very few people experience. Take the presidency. Name one since FDR who consistently succeeded in his efforts and acted accordingly. Maybe Reagan, say sometime in 1983. Maybe.

Take the world of business. Bill Gates is phenomenally successful. He's the richest guy in the world. But he has very little power over his future. His company is ill-equipped to advance in the age of the Internet, particularly if it is broken up.

In the world of music, Eminem is the biggest thing going. But what does he do the weekend after his second album debuts at #1? Accumulate two felony weapons charges in less than 24 hours. Brilliant, maestro.

The worst thing anyone has been able to dig up on Woods is that he cusses often, tells off-color jokes and can be a little chilly to people he doesn't like. You know, Bill Gates should be so lucky.

I don't want to be Tiger Woods. I like my life a lot more than I would like living his life. But it would be interesting to tap into that sense of power he must feel at times like this. Just for a few minutes.

Jon Worley once saw a record review in Borders that read an awful lot like one he had written a couple months before. That's about the best he can claim toward changing the course of history.