Tiger, my man: We need you back

Yes, I’m a golf junkie.

Guilty.

Therefore, I was clearly obligated to watch the last two days of the PGA Championship this past weekend.

I mean, hey, the season’s final major. Or as the tour’s publicists used to call it: “Glory’s Last Shot.”

(Which was always a bit silly, even for us junkies, because clearly glory will be coming around again next spring at The Masters. Or: “A Tradition Unlike Any Other.”)

Where do they get this stuff?

Anyway, back to the tower, where we pick up action at the PGA – contested over the Quail Hollow links in suburban Charlotte.

And on Sunday afternoon, as several golfers came storming down the stretch to win the... wait, what do you win at the PGA?

Never mind.

They’re heading to the back nine, crunch time, golfers’ hearts beating a mile a minute under their custom shirts and...

I fell asleep.

Not just a quick little nod, either. I was sawing ‘em off big-time and might have been drooling, for all I know.

I’M NOT even sure what woke me up.

Perhaps it was one of the announcers’ reference to Justin Thomas – who until Saturday I thought pitched for the Mets.

I think what stirred me was that I believed he’d mentioned Dustin Johnson, which kind of startled me because for most of the tournament, Paulina Gretzky’s husband had been hitting his 400-yard drives into adjacent states.

Alas, it wasn’t Johnson en route to shooting a 55, even though he was deemed the NEXT “greatest player who ever lived” after winning three straight tournaments this spring.

Then he fell down a flight of stairs just prior to The Masters and, once recovered, has played like a long-hitting stiff every weekend.

No, they WERE talking about Justin Thomas, whose previous “cool moment” as a professional was wearing a cardigan and tie while playing at this summer’s British Open.

So after I threw some ice-cold water down my shirt to wake up for good, I got to see young Justin win his first major – outlasting, well...

Outlasting Japanese star Hideki Matsuyama and mostly a whole lot of identical 25-year-old white guys most of us know little or nothing about.

I was so bored I started wondering how many possible points you could acquire in Scrabble with “Matsuyama” – except proper names are blatantly illegal, of course.

Like tossing your ball out of a sand trap without benefit of a club.

LEAVING OUT Thomas and Hideki-san, some other players in contention on Sunday sounded like an import-export law firm: Molinari, Reed and DeLaet.

The moral here is simple: I miss Tiger.

Face it: No one ever has ever played the game like Tiger Woods. The search for the “next Tiger” is fruitless – unless it’s Tiger himself, still only 41 but so pain-ridden from multiple back surgeries that he got pulled over for a DUI with no alcohol in his system.

There were some powerhouse opiates on board, though.

I can’t be the only golf fan who wants desperately to see Tiger and his 106 worldwide professional victories back on tour – and winning.

Will any of these kids currently pocketing zillions (thanks to Tiger jacking up TV rights and purse money) ever win a tournament by one shot, courtesy of a 213-yard bunker shot over water – with a 6-iron?

Google “tiger canadian” — yep, that’s enough — just to feel that tingle.

And hope, hope, hope — for every other golf junkie — that we see Tiger taking someone down over the last three holes once again.

Man, he changed a lot of weekend viewing habits.

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Steve Cameron is a special assignment reporter for The Press. Reach Steve: [email protected].