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Rather, it seems the virus of the age - and not just for those, such as he, who had immense power and immense opportunity. The Internet now permits anyone to access lewdness that would have made Caligula blush, and in seconds. And, in secular fame-based Western cultures, famous men and women are almost expected to be promiscuous (at least rock stars and film actors and male novelists and poets are). It seems odd that only politicians, priests and sportsmen are censored for priapic adventures - but then, only if they purport to be holier than holy. Always, it is the Tartuffe who suffers, more than the blatant Falstaff, to mix playwrights. Mr. Woods is an emblem of a terrible truth - sex is a temptation that no one (almost) is immune to; and, even in these post-Victorian times, there is a hygiene to our days and nights - we are expected to keep some of us to ourselves and in our pants.
From Walcott to Amis, from Spears to Woods, figures who run amok in the fields of play are called to account. Feathers should never be too ruffled. Sport must not rut too much. We fear Dionysus and pretend to be Apollo. Mr. Woods deserves our respect for inadvertently tearing the modern mask aside, much as Wilde did 100 years ago or so. We should help him, and ourselves - but not to too much.
Comments
My gut feeling was that Tiger was panicking about losing his extremely lucrative sponsorship deals. Perhaps I'm just being an overly cynical Brit!
Best wishes from Simon