Will his fall from corporate grace, his descent from the family-man pedestal, take his game down, too? Can he accept his altered celebrity, shutting out the chaos and scorn that will follow him for at least a year after he returns to work?
Woods has spent the bulk of his life, and all of his professional years, in a bubble of adulation. From the most ill-mannered galleries, he could count on we-are-not-worthy bows and “You the man” salutations. He took for granted that his colleagues on the PGA Tour would behave like nobles in a Tudor court, genuflecting to a king whose power left them richer than they could have imagined and more intimidated than they cared to admit.
Now, those fellow golfers routinely speak of him with either pity or disdain.
He can expect fans to crowd the ropes more than ever, observing golf decorum less than ever. Many will support him more passionately now, disgusted by the tabloid incursion into their beloved game. But how many will be able to stifle laughter if another strip joint repeats the stunt from two weeks ago, flying a banner over a tournament that says: “We miss you, Tiger”?
Years ago, Earl Woods would loudly jingle coins in his pocket while his young son played the game, trying to condition him to block distraction. Yet as a pro, Tiger has been notoriously prickly about crowd noise. The frustration was understandable, but he often overreacted and allowed caddie Stevie Williams to menace overzealous fans, acting as his control-freak proxy.
If Woods found it hard to ignore the noise of idolatry, how will his pride react to audible ridicule? Is he prepared to cope with the change?
He has had to reconstruct his swing several times, accommodating stressed body parts, but he has never deliberately altered his attitude as a competitor. His mind has always been his chief asset.
But it appeared to falter last year, during his comeback from a knee injury that sidelined him after the 2008 U.S. Open. Physically, he looked fine, cleaning up in regular Tour events. But he became more prone to immature emotional outbursts, and at the majors, he wasn’t himself at all. His fade at the end of the PGA Championship seemed like a shocking development in the Tiger Woods story line until … the car accident on Thanksgiving weekend, the seedy parade of mistresses, the paparazzi obsession with his wife, the sponsors on the run, the sex-addiction reports, the link to a Canadian doctor accused of dealing growth hormone.
Athletes have been known to regain control of scandal-scarred careers through either an angry determination to prove critics wrong or a full embrace of life below the pedestal. The anger option doesn’t really suit golf, although Woods’ stiff, pained delivery on Friday suggested an internal compass pointing in that direction. Despite 45 days in a therapeutic clinic, acceptance of a reduced stature might be miles away.
Even as he discussed Buddhism on Friday, Woods seemed to be recrafting his brand, rather than letting go of a craving to be seen a certain way. Less than five minutes into the statement, he touted his charitable foundation, ostensibly to assure that his indiscretions wouldn’t bring it down. The passage could have come from an infomercial.
The most powerful part of the statement was what he didn’t say: when he would return to golf. If he stays out through the Masters, Woods will have put real weight behind his vow of atonement, sparing himself some of the mockery he can expect if he “recovers” in time to play all of the majors.
- He’s still not out of the woods…….yet!
KATHY
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