Let’s accept Tiger’s apology in hopes we never have to see him again.
Only three days have passed since Tiger Woods delivered his extraordinarily dull and cynical “apology,” and already I’m sick of the whole story. So let’s give him what he says he wants: the freedom to repair his marriage in privacy. Let’s ignore everything about Tiger Woods, good or bad, for the next, oh, let’s see: Thousand years? Yeah, that’s about right.
I would have ignored the Tiger fiasco altogether, the way I do most celebrity “news,” if not for the announcement of two books promising one version or another of the “inside story.” Steve Helling, who works for People magazine, swears that Tiger Woods will place the sex scandal “in the larger context of his life,” according to Galley Cat. Helling’s book is scheduled for May publication by Da Capo Press.
In June we’re to be treated with a competing scandal book, Unplayable: An Inside Account of Tiger’s Most Tumultuous Season, by Robert Lusetich, a golf writer for Fox Sports.
With apologies to Helling and Lusetich, who may merely be good journalists trying to make a living, I hereby issue a call to boycott these and any other books, magazine articles, TV shows or news reports, blogs, or anything other communication, digital or analogue, containing the words “Tiger Woods.”
Uh…That is, after you finish reading this one.
While Tiger may be entirely sincere in his expression of remorse and acceptance of guilt and desire to repair his family, the press conference was a brilliant exercise in insincerity. He hit all the marks of celebrity crisis management, like putts at Pebble Beach:
Tiger took responsibility. He said he was sorry. He talked about “treatment” for his problem (no, not a bloated, cancerous ego, but “sex addiction”), he apologized to his wife, his employees, his fans. He mentioned religion (a brief spark of interest, as Woods referred to Buddhism, not the standard go-to-guy, Jesus).
As Rebecca Dana observed at the Daily Beast, Woods ended “sounding more like a fallen god than a humbled man” when he asked his public “to find room in your heart to one day believe in me again.”
Therein lies the problem. By elevating celebrities to god-like status, we rob them and ourselves of our mutual humanity. If he wants to save himself and his family, Tiger needs to withdraw from the public eye. Permanently. Try to regain something like human proportions for his thoughts, feelings and self image.
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! No, course that’s not going to happen. Tiger, as shown by his exquisitely timed and executed performance on Friday, is interest in rehabing his image, which, oh by the way, includes repairing his marriage. He wants to regain our love and worship (and the multiple income streams that go with these).
One last observation: I am more than a little shocked at the misogyny of the vituperation towards Tiger’s mistresses. “The women he chose, I’m sorry, they were hooker types,” said British actress and celebrity divorce survivor Tricia Walsh. “Bloody waitresses and things.”
Uh, that’s “sex worker” to you, sister. Walsh’s remark is breathtaking in the thoroughness of its retrograde political subtext. 1. Tiger, the man, should be given another chance; the women he slept with can be dismissed as “hooker types,” not worthy of our compassion. 2. Walsh casually equates “hooker” with “waitress” and “things.” What it is this, 1950? 1750?
It was barely more than a century ago that all actresses were assumed to be prostitutes. I suggest you walk a mile in a girl’s pumps before calling her a hooker. And need I say: Hookers are people, too?