I promised myself I was not going to write about Tiger Woods in this space. But my resolve is weaker than … well, my resolve just sucks.
You would have had to have your head up in the clouds, under a rock or under the sea (is that an expression or a Disney song?) to not know that Tiger made his return to golf this past week at the Masters. His appearance at Augusta, Ga. came with ridiculous expectations and outrageous media scrutiny, but that was expected. Even the fact that he was in contention, five months after his last appearance at a tournament and with all the distractions surrounding him, did not shock me.
What surprised me, though, was the ease with which I fell back into the habit of rooting for him. And I don't feel bad about it. At all.
I meant to go into the Masters as an objective viewer. Was I curious to see how Tiger would play? Of course. Was I going to jump back into cheering him on? Not so fast. But it didn't take long for me to abandon any of the hesitation I had and start rooting him on. Let's be honest: Every golf tournament is more fun and interesting when Tiger is involved. And the post−scandal Tiger is even more captivating.
But with everything that has happened that has turned Tiger from the squeaky−clean face of his sport to a pariah, it could have been easy to find someone else to root for. Not Phil Mickelson, because Lord knows I hate him. Quick tangent: My friends believe that I hate Mickelson for no reason. I tried to explain to them that you can't like Tiger and Mickelson too, and was promptly told that was akin to hating Biggie because you like 2Pac, or hating Jay−Z because you like Nas. And you know what I say to that? I still hate Mickelson.
But I could have picked some other golfer to cheer on. Except, I didn't. I wanted Tiger to win and stick it to everyone who criticized him. I wanted to see him back in the green jacket and back on top of the golf world. And I really wanted to see the aftermath that would have unfolded.
Because when it comes down to it, no one in golf is as entertaining as Tiger. Is he an ass? I guess. Is he really going to change the type of person he is? Probably not. He certainly isn't who we thought he was, to borrow a phrase from Dennis Green. But then again, how many pro athletes actually are?
How many basketball players, with the notable exception of Mr. Abstinence A.C. Green — who randomly once gave a talk at my high school — are well−known womanizers? According to the estimation of ESPN's NBA Player X, an anonymous professional player who writes for the magazine, 60 percent of his counterparts cheat on their spouses or girlfriends. The anonymouse rep from the NFL said he thought it was 30 in his league, while MLB Player X said 15 percent.
As much as we want to idolize our athletes as heroes, the truth is, they are human beings. They make mistakes, they have their vices, and they have the means to indulge them. Travis Henry and Shawn Kemp have had what seems like 20 children apiece, but it is almost laughable because of their respective sports. But Tiger is a golfer, and that is not the image we have of these athletes.
By no means does that mean that I defend what he did. But I've learned over the course of my sports fandom that you can't root for athletes based on who they are. We don't know the type of person any athlete is in his or her private life. All I can do is appreciate Tiger's exploits on the course. And if his off−course habits stop anyone from being able to do that, that is fine with me.
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Ethan Landy is a senior majoring in English. He can be reached at ethan.landy@tufts.edu.
