Tiger flexes for the ladies.
History will remember this last bit of the first decade of the 21st century for one of three things: the final stages of an agonizing national argument over health care reform; President Barack Obama announcing massive troop commitments in Afghanistan and receiving the Nobel Peace Prize in the same week; or the revelation that Tiger Woods, heretofore known as a somewhat robotic golf champion with no weaknesses whatsoever, was cheating on his wife on a scale that I can only call heroic. Most likely the latter.
I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that Tiger, a classic overachiever in every other area of his life, should apply his work ethic in this department as well. Still, one can’t help but marvel at the scope of his efforts, which are to ordinary infidelity as the Great Wall of China is to the right field fence at Fenway Park. As veteran PR man Lee Housekeeper puts it in today’s Chronicle,
Tiger Woods beats anybody I’ve ever worked with, and I worked with Morrison, Keith Moon, Janis Joplin … Tiger out-Jaggers Jagger. He’s beyond rock star, and he does this sober.
This is a story that’s already gotten way too much play, partly because of all the sex, and partly because we love it when someone turns out not to be perfect. I don’t wish to add to the deluge, but I do have one last comment: This should put to rest once and for all the idea that golfers aren’t athletes.
It’s been interesting to see how much play this is getting. I think it’s because he seemed so perfect, but really was pretty out of control. It makes us all feel better. The biggest question is, why did the dumbass get married? One of my friends said a pretty funny quote that I think is not totally true, but has some truth to it, “show me the hottest woman in the world, and I’ll show you a man who is tired of fucking her.”
Here’s Mick Lasalle’s (my good buddy) speech he wrote for Tiger
“Look, as you can tell, I have really failed as a husband. I wanted to be a good husband — maybe I got married too young, maybe I have a screw loose somewhere. I don’t know. And I understand that there are people out there who perhaps thought of me in a certain way, and they’re disappointed. But to all those people I just have to say that you have no idea what it’s like to be a young famous guy, who is constantly away from home.
Most of you folks can be virtuous because no one is trying to have sex with you. But in my position, if I turn down 999 women out of 1,000 that only gets me through about a year at most. The temptations for a man in my position are staggering — mind-blowing — it’s like a garden of delight being offered to me everywhere I turn. And I have to keep saying no. But I didn’t. And once you say yes, it’s easier to keep saying yes.
For most of you, the only temptation you ever have to resist is dessert. How are you all doing with that?
I’m not bragging. I’m not saying this is a good thing. I am very far from the man I’d like to be. But if you understood the world I travel in, some of this stuff that seems incomprehensible and wicked would just sound like what it is — understandable and dumb.
As for the products and organizations for which I’m a spokesman, I’m sorry this has caused any of you embarrassment. But can we at least stop pretending that the reason I’ve been on cereal boxes is because you thought I was Mother Theresa? I’m on cereal boxes because I’m a good golfer. That’s it. If you wanted a humanitarian, you’d have Mandela or Jimmy Carter on cereal boxes.
So I’m not going to worry about disappointing you. I’m going to worry about having disappointed my wife and my kids, because that is where my energy and my thoughts have to be. If my career falls to pieces, so be it. I got some damage control to do at home — and if you really care so much, back off a little. Your cameras aren’t helping. “
Merle Baggard wrote, “For most of you, the only temptation you ever have to resist is dessert. How are you all doing with that?”, and I am pleased to report that after being offered right-out-of-the-oven fresh apple cake at least 999 times in one hour (by me, certain that nobody could possibly turn down hot cake RIGHT OUT OF THE OVEN!!!), Cecil Vortex http://cecilvortex.com/ requested only a fresh tomato, sliced, and ate it soberly while the rest of us slobbered insatiably over a pile of cake. Vortex is a saint and though he may not play golf, he is an olympian of dessert resistance.
That’s funny, because I had recently been informed in no uncertain terms that the dessert-consuming machine we call “Cecil Vortex” was currently in the “On” position. What gives?
OK, this was not what I expected to see when I clicked through on the comments. 🙂
Tickled me to no end though and almost made up for the 999 times Briggs offered me hot apple cake (RIGHT OUT OF THE DAMN OVEN!!!).
SCB: I’ve been clean since the Hannukah party on Sunday, when I caved to, I think it was 5 kinds of brownie. Simultaneously.