I think it would have gone pretty much the same way.
Tiger comes back, has some miraculous shots, but quickly reverts back to his non-gentlemen self, cursing up a storm. Where nerdy little Phil Mickelson (whom I never liked until this tournament) plays ridiculously good golf, all while being totally respectful of the game.
When Tiger finished up his round in 4th place, no one was there to greet him. When Phil finished, his wife, who has been heroically fighting breast cancer this past year, and bed-ridden the last few days of the tournament, celebrates with all of her might alongside their beautiful family.
The winner won. Speilberg couldn't have written it any better. Perhaps God did.