The talking heads had dissed the Tiger. He let the anger cool overnight, used the residue to motivate him in the third round. Now, the rest of them can't help but notice him. The one they fear, the one they thought had gone away, has a red number after his name at last, has his putting stroke back, and has an enormous memory bank of so many whooshing finishes from which to draw Sunday. And, of course, the rest of them know that he lurks.
Tiger can play the psych game.
Shrewdly, he made sure to remind all the cameras and all the tape recorders how big leads have a way of evaporating in major tournaments. He singled out last year's British Open, in which a 10-shot lead on the last day couldn't hold up. And then, in a way that reminded you of Jack Nicklaus at his intimidating best, Tiger evoked the ghosts of Sunday back nines at Augusta National, when weird and wondrous things have a way of happening. And it has happened, as you've seen in the past here. His tone said 30 was exactly what he could see for himself.