In the last few weeks we have learned, ad nauseum, that Tiger Woods’ carefully crafted public persona was simply a facade hiding the real Tiger from the public. The real Tiger, as it turns out, is a world class gashhound (thanks Mr. Ellroy).
As floozie after floozie has come out of the wordwork to discuss her elicit relations with Tiger, sponsor after sponsor has dropped Tiger.
Woods’ wife has, rightfully left him, taking their children and preparing for the mother of all divorce settlements.
Through it all, Tiger has maintained his silence, communicating only through bloated press releases from his website. Click on that link and you’ll see a picture of smiling Tiger holding a trophy and bragging about being named 2009 Player of the Year. There isn’t a picture of Tiger cowering as his wife worked him over with a driver, or any mention of his penchant for Perkins waitresses.
No, Tiger doesn’t get it.
Tiger has been sheltered, coddled and handled his entire life. Nothing bad can enter his orbit. He’s Tiger.
Well, guess what Tiger. You’re not the first American Hero that has fallen prey to scandal that tainted his carefully sculpted image.
No, once there was another man who told us to “train, say our prayers and eat or vitamins.” He dispatched evil Iranians, Russians, Olympians and Macho Men with nothing but a red shirt and an surprisingly effective legdrop.
That’s right. Before Tigermania, there was Hulkamania.
Hogan was on top of the world. He was a wrestling icon, a TV talk show regular and a budding B-movie actor. Then it happened. A steroid scandal broke and Hogan was implicated. The very idea that Hogan was a steroid user was, well, frankly, not surprising at all.
Even an appearance on The Arsenio Hall Show and a move to WCW couldn’t clean up Hogan’s tainted image. So what did he do? He did what any over the hill, roid riddled, former champion would do. He turned heel.
Enter Hollywood Hogan.
As we’ve seen time and again, adding a beard lets the world know you’re evil.
So what does all of this have to do with Tiger? Simple.
Tiger’s days as America’s favorite multi-ethnic success story are over. Deader than Billy Mays.
If Tiger wants to stay relevant he needs to embrace his new reality.
Tiger needs to turn heel.
Tiger needs to lay low for a while. Let the anticipation for his return build. During this time, mysterious graphics need to appear randomly during PGA telecasts.
The mere mention of Tiger’s surname will add to the buzz. Then, when the time is right, he signs up for a tournament. The word goes out “Tiger is back.” Interest will be at an all time high. Its entirely possible Access Hollywood, Entertainment Tonight and ESPN will all have live simulcasts of the moment that Tiger is supposed to tee off.
Then it happens.
“Back in Black” by AC/DC blasts from the clubhouse.
Back in black
I hit the sack
I’ve been too long I’m glad to be back [I bet you know I’m…]
Yes, I’m let loose
From the noose
That’s kept me hanging about
I’ve been looking at the sky
‘Cause it’s gettin’ me high
Forget the hearse ’cause I never die
I got nine lives
Abusin’ every one of them and running wild
The door opens and smoke rolls out. Then, to the shock of everyone in attendance, Tiger Wood reappears. But this isn’t the Tiger of old. No, the Nike shirt is gone. Tiger is dressed all in black, playing air guitar on his driver. His head is shaved and he’s grown a beard.
Tiger strides confidently to the tee box with John Daly, taking the place of Scott Hall, staggering at his side. They are followed out by a gaggle of strippers, escorts, party planners and family style restaurant waitresses. All dressed in the new Tiger colors, black and white.
Back in Black.
Sure, Tag Heuer, Gatorade and Pontiac may be long gone as sponsors, but in their place I’m sure Perkins, Playboy and Cadillac can be signed up.
Embrace the fact that you’re a heel Tiger.
Embrace it and make it work for you brutha!