Well, we knew it was going to happen eventually. But so soon? Tiger’s back. And when you think about it, the announcement that the second coming would take place at Augusta National next month should be met with a sense of shock not seen since Captain Renault discovered illicit gambling at Rick’s Cafe.

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Sure, it’s a little bit surprising that the hiatus was so brief, and you can’t blame the cynics who wonder what happened to what everyone thought would be an extended recovery and rehabilitation period, but can you really blame him? Just a look at the venues for this year’s major championships should be reason enough; there is no way to think that a man who has his sights set on surpassing Nicklaus’ record of 18 would miss the chance to play on three courses where he has won majors, and won big, in the past–Augusta, Pebble Beach, and St. Andrew’s.

Then there’s Augusta itself. Why the Masters? As this Mike Peters cartoon suggests, not for nothing did Team Tiger seek out the man who shoveled information to the press during Bush 43′s “Mission Accomplished” campaign to orchestrate this comeback. Augusta is without a doubt the most restrictive place in terms of media coverage–credentials needed to have been applied for months ago (sorry, TMZ, Radar, E!, and the rest); no one is permitted inside the ropes; and the general fear of transgression resulting in credential revocation is a constant back-of-mind concern. “Normal” rules of golf coverage don’t apply here, which makes The Masters the perfect spot for the return of a personality bigger than the game itself and a brand and image that needs to be tightly guarded, protected, and controlled.

I’m going to leave the hand-wringing over what this means about overshadowing the Masters as a tournament and whether Tiger’s presence there is fair to the event or the players to people who write about (and worry about) this stuff for a living. But what does it mean for photographers? For the moment, not much. The same rules and restrictions that make Augusta an ideal cocoon for Tiger’s return also make it a manageable place for golf photographers to work. Nothing ever changes there, and I can’t see how this year would be any exception. That which we’ve often cursed may this year have become a blessing, although my brethren might be cautioned to exercise a bit more care around Steve Williams on the 11th, 12th, 13th, 15th and 16th holes. Of course that doesn’t mean that the rest of the year–especially Tiger’s first tournament after Augusta–isn’t going to be an absolute freaking zoo, but for now? Same Augusta, same rules, different year. Simple as that.

As for me, unless someone has a better idea, I plan on spending my Masters Sunday either in the third base photo well at The Ballpark in Arlington as the Rangers play the Mariners or, barring that, on my sofa with Jake in my lap, an ice cold Shiner Bock in hand, and the high-fructose musings of CBS’ resident Augusta sycophants dripping from my television set. And if it’s the latter, I really do hope that now that he’s old enough to appreciate it, Jake gets to watch the greatest golfer ever to play the game win a Masters.

Of course, I’m going to have to choose my words a little more carefully than I had originally planned the first time he asks me, “Daddy, who’s Tiger Woods?”