Olympia Fields, Ill. ? Since Tiger Woods last won a major, he has been in an operating room, in a Scottish blizzard, in a lot of tall grass and occasionally infuriated with his driver.

But he has not been in a slump.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a slump,” Woods said. “Ever since I came out of the womb and I’ve started playing golf, I’ve had a pretty good career.”

So good, he had difficulty Tuesday just giving his definition of the word “slump.”

“I guess,” he said, “when you completely lose your game.”

Nobody is saying anything like that about Woods. But on the eve of the U.S. Open, the “S” word again has found its way into Tiger discussions.

He has won three tournaments and almost $3.3 million in 2003, which is the kind of slump 99 percent of the PGA Tour would love to experience. But Woods is not 99 percent of the tour.

He is Tiger. Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap Jack Nicklaus in a single bound.

Woods successfully has patterned his career after the Golden Bear’s. But if he doesn’t win this week at Olympia Fields Country Club, he will complete a “Reverse Grand Slam.”

It would make a year with no Masters, no British, no PGA and no U.S. Open title. For a golfer who measures himself by majors, that might be the definition of “slump.”

Woods hasn’t gone four consecutive majors without a win since 1998-99. He also discounted the “S” word then, saying he was retooling his swing for better results in the long haul.

They came fast as he won three majors in 2000, most of them in landslides that redefined the game’s parameters. After winning the Masters and U.S. Open last year, golf’s Holy Grail — The Grand Slam — seemed possible.

That was swept away by a summer squall at the British Open. Woods shot an 81 and re-joined the mere mortals who don’t win more majors than they lose.

He has fallen, and he can’t get up. So why did he seem so unconcerned Tuesday when asked about everybody else’s concerns over his game?

“You know what? If you can win one major, you’ve had a great year,” he said. “And that’s always been my goal.”

By that definition, he still has plenty of time to make it a great year. Nobody is betting he won’t. But unlike the last Slam Slump, there is no ready-made explanation.

There have been a lot of minor woes, such as arthroscopic knee surgery in December that kept him from playing the first month of the season. He promptly won three of his first four tournaments, including an 11-shot win at Bay Hill when he spent much of the final round doubled over with dry heaves from food poisoning.

It was a mythological performance. Truly breathtaking. One internal medicine specialists will be talking about for generations.

All those are just the kind of descriptions Woods doesn’t necessarily like to hear. Good or bad, his feats are magnified. So when he stumbles the slightest bit, it seems like he’s staggering.

This will be Woods’ second tournament in the U.S. since the Masters. He finished fourth at the Memorial last week, though it took a final-round 65. That followed a third-round 76, which was the kind of struggle never seen in 2000.

Jack Nicklaus also had a run from 1967-70 of 12 consecutive majors without a win. He was 27 when his dry spell began. Woods is 27. He hopes that’s where the similarities end, or even he may start calling it a slump.