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Unless, of course, he’s the 54-hole leader. With Tiger, you can never rule these things out. Besides, by then, Nike will probably have developed a combination walking stick/utility club.

Already the tournament’s luck has changed. Tiger’s accommodating wife, Elin, gave birth to their first child, Sam Alexis, on the day after the U.S. Open, making it possible — barring complications — for him to play in the inaugural AT&T. That’s a bonus. A lot of us figured we’d be seeing him this week only via satellite from some undisclosed maternity ward.

And now, wonder of wonders, Phil Mickelson says he’s flying in, his ailing left wrist having made a miraculous recovery. Who’s next, the ghost of Bobby Jones? Rannulph Junuh and his trusty caddy, Bagger Vance?

So, welcome to Washington, Tiger. For the next seven days, we busy-busy Washingtonians promise to make the ultimate sacrifice. We solemnly swear not to honk our horns — no matter the provocation — on River Road or any other thoroughfare bordering on Congressional. We know how much you golfers hate that.