… or …
Why I Don’t Give A Rat’s Ass
So Tiger Woods has emerged from sex rehab, given a statement, than scurried off to rehab again. Suffice to say there is so much to be mined from this one event it’s almost difficult to know where to start.
But I’ll give it a shot.
Like more than a few people I avoided listening to the “statement”. It wasn’t news; it wasn’t saying anything we couldn’t predict with little or no effort. This was about another public figure who did something perceived as bad going through the motions of damage control.
In reality, all that really went down was as follows: as in the case of more celebrities than we can count, here we have a guy who got caught doing what MILLIONS have done or contemplate doing … in this case having a good time that didn’t involve his significant other.
In the time I’ve been alive I’ve known lots of lads and lasses – and obviously seen and read about many more – who have cheated … er … been unfaithful. Some got caught, some didn’t. Marriages broke up or stayed together. People stopped their cheating ways, or didn’t. (Notice a pattern? Here’s a clue, folks … if you are so inclined, odds are you will remain so inclined. It’s who you are.)
The real difference between all those millions of cheaters and this increasingly pathetic guy: he’s an accomplished sports figure, a celebrity billionaire known for being a fierce, focused competitor – and the advertised face/representative of several corporations who pay the guy for the opportunity to use his image to sell their products. And now he got caught doing the nasty with the wrong woman … er … women. And he’s paying a price. And so are his corporate sponsors.
And now everyone is in damage control mode, attempting to repair things.
And it is all an act.
And even if you don’t think so, that act is over time going to convince you he’ll change his ways and he will emerge a redeemed man.
You bet’cha!
Oh, I’m not necessarily saying the guy isn’t *cough* sincere *cough* in his effort to cure himself of his “sex addiction” – whatever the heck that is supposed to be – or suggesting that once things die down and he smoothes the waters he continues to pursue his extramarital endeavors a little wiser and much more discreet. Heck, for all we know his wife knew all along and kept a blind eye to things in the best tradition of “What happens in Vegas…” until she realized he was taking Vegas home with him on his cell phone (Note to all you cheetahs out there: keep the phone numbers of gal or guy friends you’ve been humping off you cell phone directory).
But it is an act.
Everything that has happened since the Missus chased him down with a golf club has been put up for our predictably eager, voyeuristic consumption. This is all a fabrication, insincere and vaguely stupid, mocking, even, of the consuming public – a silly dance our culture insists public figures do to satisfy an innate need for redemption in our eyes. And the media has been eating it up because it knows American people are essentially stupid fucks when it comes to satisfying a craving for wallowing in other people’s scandals. Not to mention hypocritical, but I think I bespeak the obvious in that regard.
Seriously.
All this has done is to underscore what a crazy, screwed up bunch of loons the American people have become. I mean, when folks were suggesting early on the man show up on Oprah to begin the repair of his life, doesn’t that scratch a speculative itch somewhere in the recesses of your consciousness? And if you thought that was a good idea, doesn’t that say something about you?
It sure does to me.
But this is not really about our obsession with celebrity, or our need to see these stupid dramas get played out in a public forum. And this is not about buying a product some twit gets to endorse because they are famous. Those things are window dressing, distractions.
What’s really happening is two things:
Sex.
And honesty.
So assuming he really does love his wife, here’s what el Tigre could never say, but could likely be closer to the truth:
“I love my wife. I really do. She is my best friend. We have two children we are raising who I want to be happier than I could ever be.
“I have done something terrible to my best friend. I lied to her. The lie was a lie of omission: I didn’t come clean when we married about who I am. If I have an excuse, like so many of you out there caught up in this same situation, I thought that marrying my best friend would change this aspect of me, but I soon realized that wasn’t going to happen.
“I am human. We all are. I slept and companioned with these women because I wanted to, because they excited me and because I was in a place where I needed something they could offer me … and because I could do it. And I would be lying to say I wouldn’t be tempted to do so again, and I would be lying to say I was certain I wouldn’t act on those temptations.
“I know this is difficult for any mature, loving couple to absorb, and we are working on this now, trying to figure how best to move forward, whether together or apart. I never loved my wife any less while this happened, never doubted that love. But I am who I am and to say – and behave – otherwise would be a lie.
“And I will not lie any more.”
“As for my fans, I apologize for projecting the image you bought into. I’m sure you are disappointed that behind that image lurked a real human being whose only real distinction to set him apart from you was an ability to swat a small ball with a club with a high degree of proficiency. Beyond that, thought, you have no right to any judgment regarding my personal life, any more than I have a right to judge yours. As long as I try as an athlete to compete honestly, to the best of my ability, you really have no room to complain, no place to project expectations of me: you have no more claim to my private life than I have to what happens in your bedrooms.
“If you think otherwise, you are mistaken. I would suggest you do what I am endeavoring to accomplish:
“Get a life.”
This William Shattneresque Saturday Night Live moment will never happen, of course, not only because el Tiger is not that brave, or because he doesn’t want to lose future endorsements once this mess sorts itself out, but because we don’t want to hear that kind of truth. We don’t like to talk about the fact that the real reason these things happen is we’re not just dishonest with the people we claim to love, but more important, we’re not honest with ourselves about who we really are.
And it seems to me that if you really love someone and know they love you, the absolute worst betrayal of that love is not being honest about who you really are.
To yourself.
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