Tiger Woods did not sleep with my wife. And even if he did prior to when I started dating her, it would not matter.
Tiger Woods did not cheat on my wife. He cheated on his wife. This matters to only a handful of people, most of whom are named “Woods.”
So to the sports writers of the world who are apoplectic about this, let’s put it in perspective.
Tiger Woods does not owe you an apology. He owes Mrs. Woods an apology. Apparently, she’s already accepted it. I could be wrong, and if I am, so what? It’s nobody’s business but Mr. and Mrs. Woods’ and their children’s. Not yours. Not mine.
“But, Jim, he’s famous and has carefully crafted this good guy image. We are betrayed!“
If that’s your view, then here’s a little perspective.
The only thing Tiger Woods owes the sports writers of the world is a nine iron upside the heads of each and every sports writer who thinks this is important, dammit! Let’s get something straight here. The press is not entitled to jack shit about anyone’s private life. Just because TMZ says otherwise does not make it so. The cult of celebrity is a blight on modern civilization and is only defended by losers with a strong sense of entitlement and a weak sense of self. Were I Tiger Woods, I would have made the following statement:
“No, I am not sorry I had more freaky, mind-blowing sex than anyone in this room will ever have in two lifetimes. I am only sorry my wife was not with me most of the times I had it. To the press, who hounded my mother-in-law on the way to the hospital, followed my kids to school, and slandered and libeled my wife, let me just humbly say, ‘Go fuck yourselves.’ You are never getting another interview. You are never getting a moment of my time ever again. You have my PR rep’s contact information. You may send your apologies to me and my family there. In the meantime, go fuck yourselves. This press conference is over.”
I know we’re in the lull between the Super Bowl and March Madness, by please, stop whining that Tiger let you down.
