Kobe Bryant has been compared to Michael Jordan throughout the NBA playoffs, and while the Los Angeles Lakers’ star certainly is the world’s best basketball player, I think even Sen. Lloyd Benson would agree: “Kobe, you’re no Michael Jordan.”

Don’t get me wrong: Jordan lives.

He just doesn’t play basketball.

He plays golf.

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His name is Eldrick.

But you may know him as Tiger Woods.

Woods — 32, and the owner of 14 major championships after wrapping up a 91-hole U.S. Open win over Rocco Mediate at Torrey Pines — is the only athlete in the world who can be mentioned in the same breath as Jordan.

He is Cher, Babe, Prince and Madonna — someone recognized immediately throughout the world by one name because of sheer excellence.

For those who argue golf is not a sport and its participants aren’t athletes, I’ll concede hitting a golf ball is not as physically grinding as taking a Shaquille O’Neal elbow to the chops or getting smeared into the boards by Darrien Hatcher, but it is a mental race and Woods is Lance Armstrong.

Tiger is the Harlem Globetrotters and the rest of the PGA field is the Washington Generals. Sometimes, I expect Woods to hit every tee shot like he does on his famed treat-the-golf-ball-like-a-hackey-sack commercial. You know the one — before having to trade his sand wedge for the sand rake like Kevin Costner in “Tin Cup.”

You know how good Tiger Woods is? He’s so good his caddy, Steve Williams, is the richest athlete from New Zealand because he carries Tiger’s balls and clubs.

Kind of sounds like Scottie Pippen, doesn’t it?

Two stroke lead, one stroke lead, two good knees, one good knee — it doesn’t matter. He could even have disgraced NBA referee Tim Donaghy carrying his bag and he’d still win.

Still not convinced Woods is Jordan in Tiger clothing?

Woods disciplines his clubs after spraying a wayward shot the same way Jordan went Earl Weaver when Steve Kerr or Horace Grant missed open jumpers.

Tiger’s performance even inspires me. I own golf clubs and like to sneak in 10 holes at Carroll Park Golf and Gun Club as much as the next hack, but by no means am I a golfer. That’s why my infatuation with Tiger is borderline psychotic.

But I’m not the only one. Part of Tiger’s greatness is he has the ability to make everyone stop what they are doing and watch five hours of golf.

And I’m not just watching. I’m actively engaged.

Cheering, throwing my imaginary clubs and nodding in agreement when Roger Maltby and Jim Nantz talk about “opening the club face and pinching the shot to hit the power fade” like I know what the heck they are talking about.

“Mow the lawn? Sure, honey. As soon as Tiger chips in from the San Diego Zoo.”

Woods simply is Jordan because he doesn’t care who he’s playing, doesn’t care where he’s playing, doesn’t care if he’s down three shots with three holes to play. You really think it is a coincidence Woods wears red and black during championship Sundays like a certain No. 23 used to wear in Chicago?

What would the PGA Tour look like without him?

We’d have Phil Mickelson and well, his hot wife — and even Woods’ wife is hotter than her.

Just as Charles Barkley, Patrick Ewing and Karl Malone would all have championship rings if it weren’t for Jordan and his tongue.

Everyone seems to have issues with greatness or at least we don’t take the time to savor it. Whether it’s a 50-foot, double-breaking putt with a major on the line or knocking down a 17-foot jump shot in Game 6 of the NBA Finals against the Jazz like it’s a layup, greatness always rises.

That’s why we need to cherish Woods because freaks like him don’t come around everyday.

Tony Giro is a lifelong Baltimore sports fan who blogs on examiner.com for fans. If you subscribe — it’s free — you’ll be e-mailed each time Tony posts a column. He can be reached at timeout@baltimoreexaminer.com.