I thought that I’d get off of Tiger’s back for awhile–granted, he apparently enjoys being on his back a lot–and let the media vultures pick through the carcass that is his personal and professional life.
But try as I might, this story just won’t seem to go away. First there was the incident itself which basically consisted of IKEA busting Tiger’s SUV windows out and then dragging his tail out of the car like they’d decided to re-enact the LA Rodney King Riots.
Then there was the voicemail message where Tiger sounded like Greg Gumbel prank-calling someone.
Then there was the rash of reports and photos of Tiger attending sex rehab and jogging, because when you’ve cheated on your wife, the best Rx is attending a clinic with Dr. Drew and getting on your Nordic Track. The upside is that he’s now Facebook friends with David Duchovny.
In the interim, more girls came in front of the camera than a porn audition, talking about how they’d $lept with Tiger, how they were embarra$$ed to be implicated in his affairs, and how they wish that people would ju$t leave them alone. Tragic.
And now, finally, after disappearing from the scene for about, I dunno, an hour, Tiger conducted a small-room press conference where he offered an apology to his wife Disney/Cadillac and his other wife, Elin. This prompted the real-world press to ridicule him for “picking people to attend” and the Facebook/blog world press to lobby him with insults like “cornball”, “insincere” and “fake”–a hilarious bit of commentary from the peanut gallery.
I mean, really: this guy has been raked and run over by everyone for about, what, 3 months now? His face, name, image, life has been paraded around, nearly every day, for 90 days. And then he’s had to undoubtedly contend with apologizing, re-apologizing, re-re-re-apologizing, explaining, sulking, crying, re-crying, re-explaining, re-re-crying and re-re-re-explaining all of it to his wife (and rightly so).
And now, after the US Weekly, the Access Hollywood, the TMZ, the Facebooks, the ESPN pieces and, I dunno, Nick Jr. News have all picked over his carcass, people are surprised that he’s not sounding “sincere” when he takes the podium months later? I mean f-cking-a; the man prob just shared a sex-hab bunk with Brett Michaels and Fava Flav; give him a break.
Can you imagine that? Imagine having to be reminded, then publicly ridiculed, then sent away to Betty Ford, then having some of your money taken away, then coming back and apologizing to people that you don’t even know for one of those drunk nights that 90% of us have captured on FB. How teary would you sound about that incident about 3 months and 18 million jokes, blogs, articles later?
Sh-t; I’m still waiting for Bush and Rumsfeld to take the stand crying for the way they f-cked all of us for 8 Smurfing years.
So I get it. I do. I’m not defending anything that Tiger did, but I get it.
As a matter of fact, at this point, I wished Tiger stepped out and played the whole thing differently. Like so:
The Kids Don’t Get It: Tiger Cab Confessions
- Announce a name change: Officially, legally drop “Eldritch”. Eldritch is someone that battles wizards and helps hobbits destroy rings. But “Tiger”? Tiger is someone that pounces and prowls everywhere he goes….scratches his balls on the green–no, no Smurf that–has his caddy scratch his balls for him on the green.
- Drop a rap album: With his new name, it’s time for a new Tiger–same kick-ass golfer, different hobbies. His album will be called “Cage Match” or “Changing Stripes” or even “ROAR”. His opening single will be “Zoo-F*cking”: “Step into the cage/check out the Wood that I bring/have you in Golf’s Digest talkin’ bout how I made you Vijay-jay Singh”. Boom, Grammy.
- New products: Cadillac, Disney and Missionary Marriage Sex Inc don’t want you to sponsor them anymore? Who cares! That’s White Mage Eldritch’s problems! Not “Tiger”. Tiger should be endorsing things like the latest Grand Theft Auto game when it comes out, Trojans (Tiger says, “Magnum-sized for when you want to put a hole in one”), and one of those shady energy drinks that I see in 7-11 (“U need an all-hours drink for the all-nite love you’re going to make”).
- New Image: Yeah, so he’s had some marriage problems now. But you know what? He’s Tiger Woods not Dr. Cliff f-ckin’ Huxtable. Now he can drop all those high-priced Sears polos he’s been wearing. He’s the greatest golfer around and still the PGA’s biggest draw–probably even bigger now that this has happened. So when he re-emerges, no more of those no-dick khakis. Tiger should wear muscle-tees that have Tiger-clawed distress marks on them like you see on people’s jeans now. He should get a lipstick tattoo on his neck like Kenyon Martin. He should dump his buck-toothed Austrian caddy, and get someone cooler, like Dave Chappelle or the lead “singer” of the Pussycat Dolls. What’s the PGA going to do now, fine him? He made so much money as Eldritch Tiger, he can pay fines til they get tired of fining him. Tight jeans. Muscle tees. Trucker hat. Nicole Shrezinger. New Tiger.
- New Media Outlet: Finally, enough with the Golf’s Digest, The Caucasian Standard and ESPN interviews. Leave that crap to Phil Mickelson and John “Drinky-drink” Daly. I want Tiger to start interviewing in Maxim and Playboy–hell, he could even take his budding rap career and interview in XXL. Hell if T-Pain can do lame Bud Light commercials, Tiger can do a hip-hop mag. And I want him on Slam Magazine (basketball mag–I know I’m losing 80% of you out there with these references) dunking his golf bag.
Oh, and for now on, Tiger should roar in the middle of press conference Q&As and wear imitation tiger claws for golf clubs for now on when he’s playing. Cut slash marks into his green jacket when he wins the Master’s.
If people are going to talk, give’em something to talk about Tiger.