In case it may have escaped your attention at the Friday telecast, if you had looked closely, you would have noticed that Tiger Woods was wearing no wedding ring.
Symbolic, you might conclude, that he was a man living a lie.
Tiger, the man who had said, "Family first."
The man who stood before an audience personally selected, his mother, people who work for him, an old golf pal resurrected from college days---and yes, the commissioner of the PGA Tour, whose duty should have been presiding over the Accenture World Championship in Arizona. The timing was without question an act of vengeance.
This was Woods' designation, scheduling his confessional, such as it was, in the midst of the world tournament sponsored by the company that was among the first to dump him when his abomnible sexcapades became public.
Fourteen majors, 14 bimbos---interesting coincidence, eh?
The scene was akin to the reading of a last will and testament.
Grim, dark, silent, except for the sound coming from the mouth of Tiger, while the nation stood still.
It was a total Tiger act, for whatever he said had been edited and cleared by the man himself.
Now, as for the published excuse for the timing--- that he had to be back "in training" at the therapist in Mississippi Saturday,
I'll repeat a published story that indicated just how seriously he was digging into his therapy.
A woman in his therapy group in Hattiesburg said that on one occasion Woods had bolted a session, and left the room in a flurry of anger.
I wouldn't swear by it, but it was published in a tabloid---and so far, the tabloids have a rather accurate rumor rate going.
Woods did refer, in his (itals) mea culpa (end itals) to "my peers in therapy," however that may be taken.
Woods did manage to work in a few pats-on-the-back for his charitable ventures, his foundation and the people who work for him, but that was diluted in a way when he referred to having "worked hard all my life."
The working stiffs out there, in the steel mills, the construction world and other such industries in which hard labor is involved must have guffawed. To return to the base of it all, the night in which Tiger made his first step toward self-destruction, there remains one gaping mystery. Why, at the hour of 2 a.m., does he take flight in bare feet, jump into his car and try to make an escape? Escape from what.? From whom? And how did two windows in his escape vehicle come to be smashed, and by whom?
All of this mystery is yet to be threshed out, if his claim that there was no domestic clash in the Woods-Elin home. In fact, rather than putting a lid on a can of worms, seems he may have just reopened one.
Furman Bisher is one of the deans of American sports writing. The long-time Atlanta sports journalist is a member of the Georgia and Atlanta Sports Halls of Fame and in addition to his newspaper writing as authored multiple books profiling major figures like Hank Aaron and Arnold Palmer. He will write periodical columns for the Daily.