I didn't even have to flip a coin to decide between writing about politics or Tiger Woods today.
I guess I'm just glad I don't watch much TV - my mother told me yesterday that she was tired of all the cable news analysts who were calling for Mr. Woods to come forth, to spill his guts, to COME CLEAN and "set the record straight."
Or at least make a comment long enough for them to turn into a soundbite that they could play every ten minutes for the next week.
Somewhere during this last weekend, while I stayed off of the internet, S. and I happened to watch the movie "Obsession" that stars Beyonce and Idris Elba. It's always a struggle to watch a B-movie, especially one that is trying hard to be a C-movie, and this one was no exception. I actually came in about halfway through, when Idris Elba had a confrontation with his wife, played by Beyonce, over an alleged dalliance with a white woman who had been a temporary employee where Elba worked.
The only thing I could think about as I watched that scene was the "maybe he did, maybe he didn't" scenario swirling around Tiger's carefully constructed life.
Maybe these people in the media who are making their bones this week on Woods misfortune have forgotten who made Tiger Tiger. Maybe some of them were secretly wishing the famous Tiger roar had gotten out of control to give the story a more predictable hook. Maybe they would prefer not remember the dominant, unyielding presence Earl Woods was in his son's life until he died. Maybe it doesn't make for good ratings to state the obvious about Woods silence - Tiger and his father have not ever been the kind of men who really gave a good god damn about other people's opinions.
I have no idea how much money Mr. Woods has, but something tells me that if he didn't make another dollar in his life he could still gas up his private jet. People of modest means, and even those in the "less than 25 million in the bank" club, like many of those news commentators who are on your TV every night, often do a poor job of giving the super rich advice.
So I won't waste my time trying to tell a rich man what to do in his own house.
But if one of my fair haired talking heads in the media gets lazy, and starts bringing up O.J., as if every relationship between a black man (sorry Tiger, but they would have been selling your "Cablasian" ass back in the day right along with Obama and the rest of us) and a white woman is destined to end in violence, I'm going to pretend my keyboard is a driver...
...and their ass is the ball.