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by Steve Wulf

The agony and the ecstasy. That pairing, popularized by Irving Stone's 1961 novel about Michelangelo, went off again in June 2008. The Lakers' collapse and the Celtics' rally in Game 4. The thud of Big Brown and the thunder of Da' Tara. The stupefaction of the Czech Republic and the astonishment of Turkey after the latter's 3-2 victory in Euro 2008. A stormy night at Shea Stadium lightened by six members of the visiting Texas Rangers.

But nowhere was the pairing more apparent than at the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines, embodied by one athlete. Watching Tiger Woods grimace with pain after every forceful swing tested his left knee, then watching him celebrate after those incredible shots on the last six holes of his third round, it was almost as if he had become part of his own amazed gallery.

Look, we should've gotten tired of writing or talking about Woods a long time ago. But in trying to win his 14th major, he only added to his legend. Tiger may be dismissive of the NHL ("I don't think anyone really watches hockey anymore," he recently said), but in this U.S. Open he showed the grit of the Red Wings, not to mention the touch of an artist.

If he's golf's Michelangelo, that third round might have been his Sistine Chapel.

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