Thanks to Geoff for tipping me off about this excellent Josh Sens review of the new Tiger Woods Jupiter restaurant in Golf.com.

Josh has the gift of the word and it's a must read. Here's just a couple of killer lines!

Unlike its owner, Tiger Woods’ new restaurant has been killing it on weekends.

The clientele.

I squeeze my way up front, through a scrum of silver foxes and platinum blonds. The scene is moneyed Florida in microcosm, as if a nightclub mated with a country club. Many of the men look like Ted Bishop. Many of the women have that new-wife smell.

Ooooo yuk!

So was Tiger there? Yes once.

Ever since, she says, sightings have been scarce. She then repeats a rumor I’ve heard several times: that Tiger comes and goes by way of secret elevator, which leads upstairs to a private dining room. Such gossip rubs against the facts cited by Woods spokesman Glenn Greenspan, who says there’s no lift in the restaurant, only an elevator that takes patrons to the parking garage.
But even as urban legend, the stories cut a poignant picture and speak to Tiger’s image in the public eye: an owner who feels compelled to slink around his own establishment, a superhero losing his powers, clinging to the habits of Bruce Wayne.

But then it happens. Make sure you read the piece.

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