My boss turned in her chair and said, "Urgent! Tiger Woods has teed off on the first hole at the Masters."

Actually, she was mocking the use of the word "urgent," which was written at the top of the Associated Press wire feed that comes into the Mighty Daily Journal.

"What makes that urgent?" she said.

"I don't know," I said. "Did he shank it? Slice it? What?"

"He hit it right down the middle of the fairway," she said.

"Keep me posted."

A few minutes later, I walked by her desk and she said Tiger had made par on the first two holes and earned a birdie on the third.

Maybe Tiger's story is urgent.

Unless you've been buried alive by pounds and pounds of pure Mississippi pollen, then you know about Tiger. He's everywhere, so we must care.

Supper time is family time, but I've had breakfast and lunch with Tiger over the past week. He's in the Mighty Daily Journal, and heaven knows, he's on the Internet.

The front page of the American Journalism Review features a profile shot of Tiger, and the headline reads: "Lost in the Woods: Sinking Standards, the Media and Tiger Woods."

I haven't read the article because it sounds like a downer. Besides, most people don't believe the media has standards to begin with, so how could we sink further?

The wall-to-wall coverage is excessive, but no rule says we have to consume every little crumb of information. And it's comforting to know that when we want Tiger news, we get Tiger news.

If we looked hard enough, we'd find a few people who don't care about the comeback of a seemingly unstoppable, billion-dollar athlete who risked his career, marriage and fan base to sleep with a dozen young hotties.

I don't understand those people.

If all the glorious, headline-grabbing details don't entice them, how about Tiger's shot at redemption?

He went on worldwide television and called himself a liar. He admitted his failings, apologized for them and promised to do better.

In ancient mythology, Icarus' father gave him a pair of wings and warned him not to fly too close to the sun. Entranced by the power of flight, Icarus forgot the warning and crashed into the sea after the sun melted away his wings.

That story's been around for thousands of years because it's true with a capital "T": People tend to fall hard when they forget what's important.

Will Tiger get up, brush himself off and start flying again?

If so, will he crash again?

Or will he cling to his new-found humility, and find his way safely home?

I don't know if Tiger's story meets the standard of urgent. The questions won't be answered today or tomorrow, no matter who wins the Masters.

This story will play out over time, and I, for one, want to see what happens.

M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal entertainment writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or scott.morris@djournal.com.