Golfer Tiger Woods soldiers on, delusional as ever. I’ve said in the past that his current behavior is magnificently baffling, a supreme example of someone convincing himself of six impossible things before breakfast.
In Tiger’s case, he has somehow convinced himself that his errant game is “almost there”. He says some variant of that in every interview, like a CEO who can’t seemingly admit that his share price decline might actually signal an internal problem, as opposed to representing a buying opportunity for shareholders so “unlucky” as to not already hold shares.
Anyway, I took at a stab at saying all of this back in April in a Wall Street Journal editorial — to which, I should say, I received no response from Mr. Woods, but I did hear entertainingly from a couple of his professional golf colleagues.
My prose stylings have, however, been put in the darkest shade by an article by Selena Roberts in Friday’s New York Times. In a piece titled “A Tiger is Snarling in the Tall, Tall Grass”, Ms. Woods cheefully eviscerates Tiger for his platitudinous prattling. It is great writing. Some samples:
- …Woods walked into the scorer’s tent as a pensive man who had never won any tournament when firing an over-par first round.
Minutes later, he emerged as a man who had been possessed by the happy, healing demeanor of a candy striper, saying: “I drove it all right. I hit probably three poor drives. I lost them to the right. But other than that, I really hit some good shots that didn’t end up in the fairway.”
“At least I missed it on the correct sides.”
Yes, and at least the chimney survived the fire. Woods is bound to start dotting his I’s with hearts at any minute. Where is the hothead perfectionist who used to stomp off after a bad round?