It's not the tragic consequence to the man himself, but to our own collective ego, as a species. 

Maybe we never had any business thinking that he was any better than anyone else - any more perfect than Joe the Plumber. But we did think so - a lot of us, anyway.  We made the mistake of idealizing him, but it did feel good while it lasted. Here's an example of what a man COULD be, we would think as we watched him stride down the fairways like an elk and dance around the greens like Fred Astaire. 

Mr. WhatzYourNameFromAnotherGalaxy, we're from the planet Earth, and this is our best - this is what WE can be.  Show us YOUR best.  We’re backing OUR guy.

His father proclaimed him the Messiah.  That, he may not be, but he did destroy some ancient barriers, and he is undeniably a prodigy who grew into a titan.  Charismatic; unusually gifted; towering and powerful; generous and noble; graceful in defeat and superb in victory – he was our champion.

Can I be faulted for having taken a perhaps, inordinate amount of pride in the fact that I happen to be a member of the very same species as our hero?

Trouble is, as it turns out, he's just a person, and in fact, a severely flawed one.

I’m troubled and feel a profound sense of loss.

I don’t know who to send to the Best Man in the Galaxy contest anymore.
Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Better look out.  Tiger’s on your ass.