Mars vs. Venus is a new, hopefully ongoing series between me and fellow blogger Lauren over at My Life, Incomplete. We’ll be discussing various topics for which the variation between the male and female perspective might create a better understanding of how our two genders think. Also noteworthy is that Jamey offers the perspective of a single male, while Lauren’s contributes the point of view of a female in a committed, long-term relationship.
Tiger Woods. Tiger, Tiger, Tiger.
I’ve visited The Huffington Post more times over the last week than I have in the last year. I’m morbidly fascinated not only by your adultery, but also by whatever the hell happened that fateful night. I’m one of the people who are making the compilation of Jamie Jungers photos rise to the top of “most popular” list. I’m part of the problem.
I’ve watched you play–nay, dominate–golf over the last decade. There’s nothing I like more than to see you crush opponents. I don’t even like Nike, but you embody victory. Huge fan, this guy.
Do I feel that you owe me anything?
Not at all.
Years ago when you realized that you were really, really good at golf, you signed up for a few things:
However, what I think most people forget–athletes and fans alike–is that sports are entertainment. If no one watches golf, professional golf ceases to exist. The same goes for any sport, and yet athletes take themselves so seriously. It’s awesome to see Tim Tebow play his heart out, but when you see him crying on the sidelines, I feel like tapping him on the shoulder to remind him that he plays football simply so I can be entertained on Saturdays. That’s it. Athletes are entertainers, just like the gladiators of old were entertainers.
So Tiger signed up to play golf and make lots of money, but as part of the deal, he became an entertainer. What we–the public–forget is that Tiger Woods is a golf entertainer. He’s not a tabloid entertainer. His job is to bring us joy by playing golf. That’s it.
Tiger, I respect that you and your wife have tried to live your wife quietly. I really do. You don’t seem to thrive on the glitz and attention that so many wannabe celebrities do. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is that you just tried to get out of your car in front of the paparazzi, and you forgot to put on underwear.
Once you step into the public eye in any way, your entire life becomes our entertainment. We forget that you are merely a golf entertainer, and we start to think that we can get–that we deserve–more entertainment out of you. This is really sad. I mean, couldn’t we all just go away? Couldn’t we stop refreshing TMZ? Couldn’t we turn to our own lives and realize that they’re just as entertaining–if not moreso–than yours?
Unfortunately not. I already air my dirty laundry out on this blog, and only a few hundred people care. It’s simply better when you’re famous.
This debacle will pass in time. You’ll get your teeth fixed, you and your wife will patch things up, and you’ll go on to play a lot more golf and win a lot more money. We’ll all remember that you’re human and you make mistakes, and we’ll move on.
I’ll tell you what: My Christmas present to you is that I won’t seek out or open articles about your personal life until December 26. That should give you plenty of time to clean up this mess and go back to being a golf entertainer instead of the full-fledged entertainer that you’ve become. Good luck!