To the best of my knowledge, my five previous articles concerning Tiger Woods were filed under the "Humor" category. That's where they should have been. I took off my sportswriter hat and became the entertainer.
To judge the value of those articles, two yes/no questions should have been asked of each: a) was it funny, and b) was it overly meanspirited?
"Funny" turned out okay, but I raised some red flags on the meanspirited front.
Now, I'm pissed.
So, let me tell you in no uncertain terms how I feel about Tiger Woods and his dalliance parade.
It's not pretty, because any married individual who enters willingly into any singular extramarital sexual affair is himself or herself meanspirited.
This is your business and your business alone, Eldrick, but everyone's asking.
You're up to...where now? 11? Well, my man, that's 11 beyond unacceptable and several above pathological.
You're ill, Tiger. You need help. You're not Namath or Jeter. In fact, when you exchanged the vows with your wife Elin, you became Staubach. Tough, but true.
But, it even goes beyond that. There is a hole in your soul that can only be assuaged with the rampant pursuit and sexual conquest of women. It's indiscriminatory, almost random. It's serial.
I'm not a mental health professional. I don't know why and I don't know what exactly to do. It may require medication. It must be addressed.
I have not one word to say about the women. I cannot begin to know their reasoning, their agenda. Sadly, they're on their own, but that's not why I'm writing this.
Eldrick, the illness must be addressed because you are a father, your most important charge on this earth. Abject shame passes on through generations, stealth and surgical. Only you can stop the effects it has on your children.
It's not going to be easy, especially for the young, handsome billionaire you are. It's an hour-by-hour proposition. You have to break the chain. It is entirely up to you.
Good luck and godspeed. Sincerely.
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