Daddy's girl was waiting on the 18th green, toddling along in the grass near her mother and grandmother, arms extended.

Tiger Woods will have a lot of time to spend with Sam this summer. (AP)

And wait, and wait.

Sam Woods, who would celebrate her first birthday two days later, relished being squeezed by her not-so-old man. As Woods tried to hand her back to his wife so that he could coddle his latest major-championship trophy, Sam extended her arms again, looking for another hug. He popped a pacifier in her mouth and whispered into her ear. It was all captured on NBC and beamed worldwide.

Baby says da-da and crowd goes ga-ga.

Truly, sentiment had begun to swing toward Woods long before the spontaneous, unscripted celebration with his family and friends. Wednesday's news that Woods played the entire week at Torrey Pines with stress fractures and ligament damage in his trashed left knee not only cemented his persona, but heightened it.

Woods, the unapologetic assassin who stomped on his opponents' necks with a spiked cleat, has morphed into a sympathetic, vulnerable human. For that, he'll be embraced even more tightly.

Jack Youngblood played in the Super Bowl on a broken leg and landed in the Hall of Fame. Willis Reed hobbled through the NBA Finals on one leg, becoming a New York legend. There's no tackling or contact in golf, but this might trump all for impact.

Woods hobbled around for five-plus rounds in the toughest test in golf with two stress fractures in his tibia and a frayed anterior cruciate ligament. He knew it, kept it to himself and soldiered onward before announcing that he'd have season-ending surgery to clean up the mess.

"The fact that he needs additional surgery only makes his performance and victory at last week's U.S. Open all the more impressive," PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem said, doubtlessly before diving off the tallest building in Jacksonville, a plummet that will likely match the TV ratings the rest of the year.

Woods' talent has never been questioned; now he proved he has the heart and stones to match. Forever admired for his a capella ability to make the golf ball sing an aria, Woods just ratcheted up his public-approval rating to an orchestral crescendo.

If there's anything we love more than a good underdog, like Rocco Mediate's bid to unseat Woods, it's the comeback story of a somewhat fallen, fragile or aging hero.

He certainly fits the first two descriptions. Reading his body language, and what he was and wasn't saying, many of us in San Diego suspected Woods' injury was far more serious than he'd disclosed. Those folks who suggested he was milking the moment, including competitors like Retief Goosen -- who has since backtracked -- must feel pretty small about now.

Most of the rest of America would love to throw their arms around him, then throw him a parade. The evolution is complete. The dude isn't a robot after all, finally answering the question Stewart Cink posed after being destroyed by Woods at the Accenture Match Play finals in February.

"Maybe we ought to slice him open to see what's inside there," Cink joked. "Maybe nuts and bolts."

Nope, just cartilage and tissue, but the Cink statement was funny because it felt so true. For most of his career, Woods has been distant, cold and aloof. His public persona has been largely massaged, manufactured and contrived by Madison Avenue. Now much of that has changed, squarely on an unscripted public stage made of green grass.

The softening of his steely public exterior didn't happen suddenly Monday. For his first decade as a pro, Woods typically emanated all the warmth of stoic Ben Hogan, drawing fans based almost solely on his performance, not his personality. If Hogan was the Wee Ice Mon, a moniker the fans in the U.K. conjured up, then Woods was the Ice Pick -- right through his opponent's jugular

That began to change two years ago, when his father and mentor died after losing a lengthy battle with cancer. After winning the British Open, in a moment that probably won him more fans than anything he'd done to that point with his golf clubs, Woods broke down sobbing on the 18th green because his dad wasn't there to hug him anymore. He buried his head in his caddie's shoulder and dumped enough tears to fill the Firth of Forth.

Even his outrageous tussle with the everyman Mediate made Woods seem more likeable. He has flaws. He's no longer 10 feet tall and bulletproof. He made eagles from cart paths and behind concession stands but never conceded a thing, despite the pain and rust.

Golf analyst Michael Collins, who covers the tour for XM Radio and was following the Monday playoff, was as shocked as the rest of us when Woods blew a three-shot lead over mega-underdog Mediate with eight holes left to play. Collins, a former stand-up comedian and caddie, likened Mediate's rally to a scene from one of the Rocky sequels.

"It's like when Rocky came back to the corner after giving Ivan Drago a shot between the eyes and the guys in his corner screamed, 'See, he bleeds, he bleeds,'" Collins said between shots, off the air.

Yeah, like never before, given the way it ended. Mostly, Woods had previously displayed all the emotional, thespian range of Dolph Lundgren or Sly Stallone.

They might not admit it at the moment, but even his detractors will miss him. Nary a day passes without some fan complaining to newspapers and networks that golf coverage is too Woods-centric. Well, rest assured, fans are going to suffer from full-blown withdrawal in his absence. The past two months, when Woods was on the shelf before playing in the Open, gave us a sample-sized spoonful of what it's like when the side dishes become the main course.

You want Phil Mickelson? You got him. The big cat's away, now the mice can play.

Absence makes the heart, and the hard, grow fonder. Woods will miss the last two majors of the year, plus the Ryder Cup. Hardcore fans will be checking into detox, wondering why they'd ever claimed he'd been over-exposed. He's so superior to his peers that even after six or seven months off, he will return with the No. 1 ranking intact, like Elvis after his stint in the Army.

Yet, now Woods will rank first for other reasons. Ask Annika Sorenstam, unseated as the women's top gun by Lorena Ochoa after missing time last year with a neck injury, if she has picked up more fans now that she's the contender, not the defender. Woods will have more people in his corner in 2009 than ever before -- especially if he makes his PGA Tour return at the Buick Invitational at Torrey Pines in early February, his traditional curtain-raiser.

Every week in Vegas, bookmakers post the odds on golf tournaments, with Woods forever being installed as the spot-on man to beat.

Sometime next year, for the first time, he'll be an off-the-board pick in another regard:

As the sentimental favorite, too.