Apart from having what the Telegraph’s Jim White perfectly described as “the sartorial arrangement of a hostage, hastily dressed for a video ransom demand”, Tiger Woods’ cringeworthy confessional has answered at least one question: he can speak for 13 minutes without swearing.
While the outfit was designed, no doubt, to emphasise his weight-loss (the last decent dinner he had was possibly Thanksgiving, the night it all kicked off), Woods — who’s always looked older without his Nike cap — appeared pretty wrecked, and understandably so. It can’t be easy being the most infamous man in every room you walk into. Ask Willie O’Dea. (Or maybe don’t. At least not if you’ve a dictaphone.)
However, while any sort of mud will stick for some time yet, perhaps forever, the worst is probably behind Woods. He’s been criticised for stage-managing his public address, but, in fairness, what was he meant to do – throw the whole thing open to the floor? Fire ahead, ask me anything you like, the juicier the questions the better. I’m sure my (absent) wife (or her lawyer) won’t mind.
It’d be nice to think he’s been genuinely humbled by the whole experience and will come down off what he admits has been his privileged perch. When you strip away the money and fame, we’re all flesh and blood. Hand on heart.
