He’s a hot mess, and the reason for his descent is all too obvious: Those female golfers have better bodies.
We’re talking about Tiger Woods, of course, the muscular and good-looking veteran golfer known for his riveting performances on the course and maybe a dash of irresistible private charms.
It was only a few months ago that Mr. Woods had earned a standing ovation from his fellow golfers when he returned to competition after four years out of the game to win the Pebble Beach Open. (That was part of a Masters week so stuffed with twee nostalgia that it felt like we were still in 1930.) Since then, he’s been hit with a barrage of sex allegations.
On the surface, the entire Tiger Woods saga seems old hat: Let’s break down more sex allegations with more allegations, we’ll build a tall tree, which then grows into a speck of dust. All of this is so heavily played out — kind of like Tiger Woods being stuck between two large skylights. There are endless details about alleged rendezvous at sex clubs, text messages about how much he loves pornography and accusations that Tiger Woods told a former mistress he was using Vicodin while both were partying together.
Maybe even old hat. Actually, Mr. Woods’ downfall is so self-evident — because it isn’t self-evident at all — that I should just stick to discussing his golf.
I will, on the other hand, discuss this: I want Tiger Woods’ golf career to end. I want him to burn out, and when he does, I want him to die a miserable death.
There is no hope for him. As a young athlete, he was matched against dominant players. That was what enabled him to achieve such extraordinary heights in his day. Those days are gone, replaced by more modest competitors and, consequently, someone like him should be an afterthought in the golf world. He should not be a fixture on television. He should not even have a sponsor.
There is no longer any reason for Tiger Woods to play. Tiger Woods has thrown himself into the party circuit. It is like watching Jeff Spicoli getting blotto before hitting the road for college. It’s almost like inviting Jeff Spicoli to keep making Waffle House runs on your dime for a few more years, hoping he stops puking, becoming a fugitive and going on a crime spree. Oh wait, you are aware of that, right?
Meanwhile, someone else will continue playing without any of this distraction and any semblance of professionalism. The underdog will keep beating the odds and become the national hero, an American Hero even, inspiring awe around the world.
Whatever’s left of Tiger Woods’ career, even that will likely be brief. More likely, he will die young — probably of an apparent heart attack. He will not want to face the world knowing it all. He will not want to face the responsibility of having a public presence or even being a public person at all. His body won’t last even a little while longer.
And that’s not even the best part. Most golfers never have a public presence because of their sport. They should not have to. They have amazing talent and a devoted group of fans that show up every Sunday. Unfortunately, Tiger Woods does not have the same kind of career as some other golfers. He has to work hard and follow a schedule — usually ending up in the magazine and newspaper pages instead of on the front page. And that’s why, ironically, he should just give up the ghost.