It's not hard tracing one source of his dedication. "I was very poor when I was young," says Day, the son of Queensland meat workers, explaining away the three PlayStations and the $60,000 Cadillac Escalade he keeps at his Orlando home. He bought school clothes one year at St. Vincent de Paul — everything he could cram in a bag for $5. "Just looking when I was little at pictures of cars and houses that I wanted — it gives you a certain motivation, it gives you a goal." Day first hit balls at age 6, using a 3-wood that his father, Alvin, found on a trash heap, but he was preoccupied with other sports. That changed when his dad died of stomach cancer. Day, 12, his two older sisters and their mother, Dening, were devastated. Jason started to drink. He got into fights. Dening sent the boy to a golf academy that doubled as a boarding school. Day eventually connected with his new mentor, Swatton, the golf coach. They've been inseparable ever since, the coach serving as a surrogate father.
Day broke 70 for the first time at age 12. By 15 — in 2003 — he'd read a biography of Woods and, while impressed, resolved to outdo even Tiger. Among Day's goals for '08 is to win twice, just as Woods did in 1996. (He learned from Tiger in more ways than one. Before winning the Junior World at Torrey Pines, Day studied the course, virtually, via video game: EA Sports' Tiger Woods Golf.) At 16, Day captured the Queensland Amateur, becoming the youngest champion in the event's 104-year history. He also made a major swing change to create more leverage and add distance. But will Day's confident comments rile the World No. 1? Woods is legendary for using perceived slights as motivation. Just ask Michael Campbell, Stephen Ames, and Rory Sabbatini. Yet Day seems different, the first player who can back up the talk long-term. In so many ways, he's the same as Woods: The short game, the poise. And, so far, the results.
While Day admits that a player could be intimidated by Tiger's physique, the boyish wonder withholds judgment on the rest, including the supposedly jaw-dropping ball flight and percussive sound of Tiger's compressed Nike. "I don't know, we'll have to wait and see how Tiger hits it," Day says. "If he hits it good, it'll be intimidating, I reckon. He's done it for more years, and he's smarter, he's mature, he's bigger. But I'm a lot like him. I can play a number of different shots in my bag."
Is that enough to rile Woods? Maybe it doesn't matter. No one remembers what Buster Douglas said leading up to the fight. They just remember Mike Tyson on his back. Day will get at least one mulligan, because even Woods botched his first chance to win as a pro, losing to frumpy Ed Fiori at the 1996 Quad City Classic. But after that... "It sounds big, but I want to win," Day says, hopeful that an inflamed right wrist that sidelined him for the last two Nationwide events of 2007 won't interfere. "I want to get out of the blocks pretty quick and win an event." Or two. It's on the goals list. Because that's the model. That's what Tiger did at 20.
Day was driving through California last October for a Nationwide event, and he couldn't help but dream: He imagined the handshake, the eye contact, the electricity of the moment. The likely where and when of his first meeting with Woods: Torrey Pines, site of the Buick Invitational, January 24-27, as well as the U.S. Open host in June. What if he faces down Woods in Torrey's final stretch, at either event? Swatton was in the car, and he asked his charge if he was ready for such a showdown.
Day's response: "Bring it on."
