Apology accepted, Tiger. Now return to the golf course while you still have some mojo in your bones.
Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn what others think about Tiger Woods. I have always considered Tiger what he is — perhaps the greatest professional golfer of all time. Period. Granted, off the course he’s been a jerk.
Being a superstar and a jerk at the same time is nothing new in American culture. Get over it.
Before athletes became brand names, my nominee for all-time scumbag was Ty Cobb because his vicious exploits were displayed not only off the field but on it. Hack Wilson was a drunk. Babe Ruth was both a womanizer and glutton for food and booze. The only really good guy on and off the field in those days was Lou Gehrig. There were others we rarely heard from.
Today’s brand names are also phonies. Alex Rodriguez, Roger Clemens and Mark MacGwire come to mind.
Tiger Woods is not a phony. Thank your lucky stars he wasn’t a serial killer. I have no ounce of compassion for the women who stepped forth and claimed to have affairs with him. It takes two to tangle, ladies. They are what they are — groupies. And, based on Tiger’s apology today, he was a willing predator only too happy to be stalked. In fact, he felt entitled — a fallacy these superstars so often succumb.
Some may nominate Tiger Woods for an Academy Award on his 13 1/2-minute mission statement today at the Sawgrass Country Club in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. So be it.
As a visitor in the past to Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and Overeaters Anonymous meetings, it is clear to me that Tiger Woods is in the process of completing the 12-step program to recovery.
One of those steps is submission to a higher power, and, in Tiger’s case, an admission to his faith in Buddhism
taught to him in his youth by his mother. As any AA person will tell you, it doesn’t matter what higher calling that is despite what some religious crackpots may say.
What Tiger hasn’t learned from his transgressions is that he may want to protect his image, his private life, his wife Elin and two children, but he can’t no matter how much of a control freak he is. Live with it, Tiger. It comes with fame, American style.
When this guy returns to the PGA tour, he doesn’t know. The number of atonements facing his future probably number all the scores he posted on the links combined the past 13 years. This may take awhile.
We all know golf is the only way he can make a living so it’s only a matter of time. When that happens, he may learn piecing his marriage together may be a walk in the park compared to the zoo that will hound him on the tournament circuit.
No larger-than-life celebrity in the history of the world has offered such a mea culpa and asked for forgiveness. Of course, no country in the world is as pious, prudish or obsessed with somebody else’s sex life as our own American culture.
Tiger Woods is not the reincarnation of Buddha. He is a professional golfer. In that, he’s a gold mine, a television ratings monster which double or better ever time he steps foot on a course.
The reason is not his sex drive but the products of clubs pulled from his golf bag. A career of winning 71 PGA titles, including 14 majors in which he’s in pursuit of the record 18 held by Jack Nicklaus.
Tiger Woods has hurt himself and his family. Not you and me. He has hurt his sponsors and the players on the PGA — but only in the pocket book.
His tarnished brand is of his own making. Let the guy weasel out of it and take his licks out on the golf course where he belongs.
I’ll jump off this ship if Tiger should pull a Darryl Strawberry or any other struggling addict who stopped and started the AA program more times than a veteran NASCAR driver.
Jerry Remmers worked 26 years in the newspaper business. His last 23 years was with the Evening Tribune in San Diego where assignments included reporter, assistant city editor, county and politics editor.