I hate Tiger Woods.
There. I said it. Let me say it again so you understand me completely—I hate Tiger Woods.
Does that statement make me a racist? I ask only because I know some will make that knee-jerk claim. Does it make me a jealous sot? Once again, there will be finger pointing. Am I a holier-than-thou evangelist puritan who swears I’ve never used the Lord’s name in vain after a particularly ugly five-iron? Perhaps.
To tell you the truth, I don’t much care how I might be labeled, I hate Tiger Woods.
I’ve never been a big fan of Eldrick. Oh, I’m well aware of the huge impact he’s had on the popularity and financial windfall of golf in general and the PGA Tour in particular.
I can also freely admit he’s the most talented golfer this side of the Milky Way. He’s pulled off shots I never thought possible. He’s risen to the occasion more often than Charlie Sheen. So yes, I get it...he’s simply the best, and he’ll very likely finish his career as the best. That does little to change my opinion. I hate Tiger Woods.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t always rooted against Tiger, not so much because of any intense dislike for the man, but because I usually find myself rooting for the underdog in any type of competitive match. And as we all know, Tiger’s alpha dog game rarely plays the second fiddle role of underdog.
The media’s stroking of golf’s No. 1 alpha dog gives me a rash I can’t scratch. For instance, the morning after Phil won the Masters, I turned on ESPN only to see the latest story: “Tiger’s Week.” Isn’t that just peachy? We’ve got a real feel-good story about a man and his sick wife, but the intense lights of the media continue to blind in the direction of Tiger Woods (whose wife wasn’t even there).
When it was announced Mr. Woods would play in The Masters, I actually heard people say they’d take Tiger over the field. Not over Phil. Not over Ernie. Not over Angel. Over the entire field. And they did it with some level of chutzpah.
It’s not as if Tiger reciprocates the adoration. He’s very short and condescending with the media. He walks briskly past galleries under the force field of 'focus.' He’s as friendly as a toothache.
His bagman isn’t any better. Stevie stands behind his boss like an imperial storm trooper. Speaking of standing behind; didn’t Tiger’s father stand behind him in his youth making all kinds of racket in his back swing to help him maintain focus? Why, then, does a simple camera shutter make him stop his 130 mph swing, which prompts Adolph Williams to remove the offending article and throw it in a lake? I hate Tiger Woods and his caddie.
Of course, the easy reason to hate Mr. Woods is because of the latest tabloid page-turner involving him and a scorecard full of willing women. Some say we should judge him on his exploits on the course, not off it. I say I always judge a man by what he does when he thinks no one is looking. In Tiger’s case, I judge him as a man first, a golfer second.
Yes, I hate Tiger Woods. I don’t berate those who idolize him. I don’t wish the man any ill will. It’s just my opinion, and I’m putting it out there. I figure with all the adulation, perhaps a bit of dissention is a good thing. You have absolutely every right to disagree. I’m not even going to argue...much.
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