The description has chased him of late, as if it were an unwelcome addendum to his career. A stain too conspicuous to politely ignore.
A slump, they call it. An interruption, if you will, of his legend. This is the depiction of Tiger Woods as he prepares for this week's British Open.
Is it fair? Is it accurate?
Perhaps we should consider the evidence.
Woods has entered 10 events this season and won four.
No slump here.
He recently made his 106th consecutive cut, passing Jack Nicklaus for second place and moving within seven of Byron Nelson's record.
No slump there.
He heard trash talk from a player with designs of unseating Woods as the PGA's leading money-winner. He was, essentially, called out by Kenny Perry.
Now that, my friends, is a slump.
This is the root of the Woods issue. His game is not in decline in any viable sense of the word, but his aura has been pierced.
Not long ago we fretted about the lack of courage on the PGA Tour. We wondered if every big event would end with Woods scaring the bejabbers out of Scooby Mickelson and Shaggy Els.
Now, Rich Beem has won a major. Mike Weir and Jim Furyk, too. Perry's knickers have gotten so big, he wondered aloud about moving past Woods on the prize money list after winning the Greater Milwaukee Open.
This is the best, and really only, evidence of a Woods slump: The rest of the tour no longer appears in awe of him. He's still the best player. He's still the guy you figure to see every Sunday. He just isn't making voices quiver and egos shrivel when he shows up in the locker room on Thursdays.
For that, we should applaud. Tiger the Invincible was great theater for a spell, but it was threatening to grow wearisome.
At the time of the last British Open, Woods had won seven of the previous 11 majors. He had won 24 of 25 tournaments when tied or leading going into the final day. Woods was dictating the terms of his legacy and the rest of the field seemed destined to serve as witnesses to his calling.
But, beginning with 81 the Saturday of the 2002 British Open, Woods has shot under par in six of 14 rounds in Grand Slam events. Granted, that's no reason to suggest he's a slacker, but it is less than what we had come to expect. And it seems to have had a liberating effect on the rest of the tour. If Beem could hold off Tiger at the 2002 PGA Championship, why couldn't someone else do the same at the next stop?
If nothing else it has proven that, contrary to his performance from 2000-02, Woods is not infallible. The realization arrives, interestingly enough, around the time it did for Nicklaus a generation ago.
At 27, Nicklaus had won seven Grand Slam events. At 27, Woods has won eight. Nicklaus then went three years without winning another. Woods has played a season's worth of events without another major title.
The point is Nicklaus still was considered the best golfer in the world, just as Woods is today.
Here is the reality of the situation: Saying Woods has hit a slight lull in his career is more compliment than insult.
It is an ode to his accomplishments. It's like wondering why a Beatles album didn't last longer on the charts. When you come to expect complete domination, you are surprised at anything less.
Woods does not seem to understand this. He has, at times, appeared annoyed by the fuss. He treats questions about his "slump" as if they were an affront. In truth, they are the opposite.
He created the standard with exemplary play. He encouraged the scrutiny by suggesting his season is built around Grand Slam events.
Think of it this way:
Is it better that fans are surprised when you've gone an entire year without winning a major, or would you prefer they accept that as normal?
A year ago, Nicklaus worried aloud about the ramifications of Woods winning all four Grand Slam events in a calendar year. Nicklaus thought it might strip Woods of his motivation. To accomplish too much too soon, Nicklaus suggested, could take the edge off of Woods' game.
That's no longer a concern. It's not as if Woods has anything to prove, but he is feeling the weight of his reputation.
In a way, this smudge might actually do Tiger's career some good. We had grown too accustomed to him winning. We failed to understand the difficulty involved. We were beginning to take his many accomplishments for granted.
So perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps this stumble, however slight, has served to remind us Woods is human, too.
