Before there was the Tiger Slam — four consecutive major wins over two seasons — there was a golf ball. A curious experiment. A white sphere built not by Titleist, but by Bridgestone. One that spun less off the driver, more off the wedge, and quietly, revolutionized how the game was played at the highest level.
The Eureka Moment
The revelation came, as many good ones do, during a casual practice session. Tiger Woods and Mark O’Meara were chipping around when Woods noticed something strange — O’Meara’s shots were checking up beautifully, far better than his. Frustrated, Tiger finally asked, “How do you get the ball to do that?” O’Meara, grinning, replied, “T, it’s not me. It’s the ball.”
“You are playing an archaic golf ball.”
O’Meara wasn’t exaggerating. Woods had been playing a Titleist ball that, by the standards of the emerging 2000s, was dated — a liquid core wrapped in rubber bands. The Top Flite Strata Tour that O’Meara was using featured a solid core and a polyurethane cover. Bridgestone, O’Meara told him, had even more advanced designs — ones that could be engineered specifically for Tiger’s game.
The Science of Spin
Tiger was intrigued. His mind had always gravitated toward the mechanical — he lived near Cape Canaveral and was fascinated by NASA’s ability to engineer flight. If engineers could launch a shuttle, why couldn’t they design a better golf ball?
Bridgestone’s prototype, funded by Nike, was no ordinary ball. It used polybutadiene in the core — a super bouncy synthetic rubber — and was coated with urethane, offering both soft feel and durability. The real magic, however, was in what engineers called “spin separation” — reducing driver spin for longer, straighter tee shots, while preserving wedge spin for control around the greens.
Testing Under Pressure
After finishing fifth at the 2000 Masters, Tiger entered a self-imposed boot camp. He wanted to see what this new ball could do — and whether it could outplay his trusted Titleist.
“With the new ball I would have won by five.”
At the Byron Nelson Classic, he barely missed a playoff. His reaction? Call the Bridgestone team and demand an immediate meeting in Germany. There, at Gut Kaden Golf Club, Tiger tested prototypes with Hideyuki “Rock” Ishii — Bridgestone’s chief ball scientist. The difference in performance, especially in the wind, was undeniable.
The Ball That Beat the Wind
In a stiff left-to-right breeze, Tiger’s Titleist would drift as much as fifteen yards. The prototype barely moved. The data confirmed what Tiger already felt. The ball’s core delivered power; its urethane cover delivered feel. His irons gained five yards. His drives flew straighter. The ball reacted like it understood what he wanted to do with it.
“He’s so sensitive to sound and trajectory,” Ishii later said. “His eye is better than anyone’s. Better than our testing robots.”
High Stakes, Higher Standards
Switching balls in the middle of a season was risky — especially for someone who never changed gear mid-year. But Tiger wasn’t just any player. And there was a larger narrative unfolding: Titleist, then the dominant ball maker, had sued Nike for misleading advertising over a now-iconic commercial showing Tiger juggling a ball with his wedge. Nike saw an opportunity — and offered Woods a new deal reportedly worth over $17 million annually, plus profit share.
It wasn’t just about money. It was about control, loyalty, and performance. Tiger had been Nike’s signature athlete since 1996. Switching to a Nike-branded, Bridgestone-built ball would cement his allegiance and give him an edge no one else had.
The German Proving Ground
Tiger’s final test came at the Deutsche Bank–SAP Open in Germany. He used the prototype. Though he finished third — after one errant 7-iron landed in a pond — he knew he had found something special. He called Bridgestone and ordered hundreds of the new balls. The revolution had begun.
The Beginning of the Slam
By the time Tiger teed off at Pebble Beach for the 2000 U.S. Open, he was armed with his new secret weapon. He won by fifteen strokes. Then came the Open Championship at St. Andrews, followed by the PGA Championship, and then the 2001 Masters — four majors in a row. It was the first and only modern Grand Slam in golf history. And at the center of it all was a golf ball that no one else had.
A Ball Worth Grinning About
Back at Isleworth, Tiger called O’Meara. “Marko, get over here.” He handed him two boxes of the new balls. “We gotta go play.” The grin on his face said it all. The game was changing — and he was already three strokes ahead.
