Tiger Woods Is Not Your Friend; Stop Being Peasants

Twitter resoundingly dubbed Tiger Woods' public apology "robotic," something Dan Levy echoed in his instant reaction to the announcement on the Sporting Blog. 

Sure there was a hint of emotion at the beginning when he looked over at his mother in the front row. And, for a brief moment or two, he looked into the camera with what seemed to be something resembling remorse. Then again, it could just be he was low on oil.

That's fair: Woods is robotic, composed, and guarded. That's his right. He's not your friend, acquaintance, or a noble. He is a celebrity with endorsements to protect and an image to manage. Like any branded athlete, he turns himself into Ronald McDonald, the Geico lizard, or any other corporate property, and is hereby owned by them and subject to their control and valuation. 

The perversity of demanding some kind of public theater, though, baffles me completely. Did you want him to cry? Did you want him to stand there with Oprah, Sasquatch, and Tony Dungy, and hug them and proclaim himself healed in some bizarre nexus of public opinion and celebrity? Did you want him to kvetch and weep with the ladies of The View, and thus win back the endorsement of Homeland Secretaries Behar and Hasselbeck before conferring with Prime Minister Degeneres? 

Would that make you, who have this weird assumption that you have some kind of emotional relationship with a public figure who allowed the public to have no relationship with him whatsoever before this, feel better about the healing of your imaginary relationship? Do you want him to bring flowers and stroke the camera as if it were your cheek? Did you want Pagliacci weeping on his knees? 

If you're complaining like Dan does here...

Oh, right, there was that part of the show where he talked about being a Buddhist, and how he strayed from the teachings of his mother and is sorry for that. He then went over and hugged his mom before exiting the room.That's kind of human, right?

...then you wanted peasant theater of the lowest grade and cheapest sentimentality, Evita on the balcony weeping to her adoring throngs. Some athletes do have personal relationships with their fans. Woods is not one, and will never be. 

For whatever base melodrama you want: Broadway's over there. This is life, and he did what he had to do in the same cold, generally businesslike way he does most things. Humanity comes in a hundred million flavors, and his is leave-me-the-hell-alone-berry with a hint of tart professionalism.You know why he has to apologize for being a cheating bastard? Because he wrote those terms for himself. John Daly doesn't have to make those apologies, because he's written his own terms. Disastrous, horrible terms at times, but terms of engagement nonetheless. 

Expecting anything else from a public commodity is insanity, and is being a sentimental peasant prostrate before the most maudlin and inaccessible of sports gods: the old lie, the athlete-as-hero.  Now that's real hard-boiled cynicism, not the half-baked version that merely calls Tiger "robotic."