Let me first preface this commentary by saying that I really don't “get” the whole Tiger Woods phenomenon, probably because I just don't get the appeal of golf as entertainment. There have been other golf superstars before Woods, and no doubt there will be many more after him. But I simply don't understand how someone becomes an international superstar because he can play golf. Oh, I get that there are lots of weekend warriors out there who fancy themselves Tiger wannabes, but where is golf's value as a spectator sport?
Nor do I have any particular interest in Tiger's recent peccadilloes. I don't admire him any less (mostly because I didn't especially admire him in the first place, given my documented disdain for the game of golf and for the cult of celebrity). Nor do I feel all kinds of offended by his behavior, since it's not like he's my husband or otherwise owes me anything. To me, he's just one more famous person whose reality is a lot uglier than his image.
So put another way, you might say I have no dog in this fight (but enough about Michael Vick).
But be that as it may, I do acknowledge that Tiger Woods is a household name and, until recently, that that name was gold in the advertising world. And as I see it, how far he makes it back into the public's good graces (and therefore Madison Avenue's) depends on three things: 1) that he continues to be a “winner” at golf; 2) that he's popular and well-liked (which for many people equates with winning); and 3) that he convinces the public that he's told us the “whole truth” about his transgressions and that he's sorry for having committed them (and whether it is indeed the whole truth or just a good acting job is seemingly irrelevant). And this is never truer than in the world of professional sports. And if that sounds cynical, well, it's meant to be.
Truth be told, there's plenty of cynicism to go around, from the sports stars whose arrogance comes from knowing we'll overlook just about anything as long as they give us a wink and a smile (and a championship); to the public whose moral compass is incapable of finding True North when a "fan favorite" is involved.
Or perhaps it's the corporate sponsors who are the most cynical of all. How can anyone view the latest ad from Nike featuring a silent Tiger Woods (prominently displaying the Nike logo on his cap) being "scolded" by his dead father and not feel manipulated by Nike? Sad thing is, there's a significant segment of the population that is all too willing to be manipulated for commercial gain. And for that reason, it's all too certain that Tiger's current and former corporate sponsors are sitting around and withholding final judgment on their association with Woods until they get a sense of which way the "Q factor" winds are blowing.
What it all boils down to is that our capacity for forgiveness and compassion as well as our moral outrage are all relative and all subject to compromise. Who we revile and who we revere in the face of public scandal says much more about us than it could ever say about the “scandalizer”, and goodness knows we've all had plenty of experience in being judge, jury and career executioner.
After all, celebrity is all about building a person up with unrealistic expectations and then knocking them back down with an overblown sense of moral outrage when those expectations are not adequately met. Nor should it come as any great surprise that fame is a double-edged sword: If you're big enough to be worshiped from the gallery, then you are certainly big enough to be taken down by a fickle public.
That being said, whether a public figure ever makes it back up from the depths of public scorn is primarily a function of the public identifying with them while still being able to feel morally superior to them. (Hence the inevitable jokes that will forevermore accompany mention of Tiger Woods and others in the same boat.) And the lynchpin of that co-dependent process is the wrongdoer's primetime (and more often than not, self-serving) mea culpa, served up for your approval on the televised altar of public opinion.
It's predictable and like a well-worn scene from a morality play: For the American public to forgive the transgressor, he must first come clean about himself or else suffer the consequences. As a case in point, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens will forever be baseball pariahs not necessarily because of their “sins”, but because of their perceived arrogance. In short, their refusal to tell us the truth about their use of steroids and/or performance enhancing drugs (also known as “PEDs”) is what sealed their fate. Add to that the fact that Clemens and Bonds are not likeable characters. Never were, and never will be. And ultimately, there is no forgiveness where there is no good karma.
And now it is Tiger who has taken his first steps on that well-traveled road to redemption, having gotten the public apology out of the way before venturing out this week into the safe confines of the Masters Invitational. We'll soon see how well he's laid his groundwork, but judging from the reception he's gotten at Augusta, the early returns look good. I'd venture to say that sometimes being “popular” (the definition of which varies from person to person) is all that's needed to make a sincere apology all but unnecessary and any transgression short of a felony irrelevant. And even then, the felony had better be a big one.
If you are a thinking individual, perhaps such a schism should be a source of cognitive dissonance for you. At the very least, it should make us all a little bit uncomfortable in making value judgments (be they pro or con) about total strangers. This is especially true when the only "value" involved is whether we think that that stranger is a “good guy” or even a “good-enough guy” because he's good at what he does with a puck, club, bat, hoop or pigskin.
It's all well and good to pillory celebrities, politicians and sports figures or to deify them. Whether these people “deserve it” or not is beside the point, as it just comes with the territory. But let's at least be honest with ourselves about why we're doing it and drop the pretense of moral authority.
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