Posts Tagged ‘Tiger Woods’

Kitty DuBois

February 21st, 2010 No comments

Do you care about Tiger Woods? About his apology? Me, neither.

Right now, MSNBC — the self-titled “Place for Politics” — is airing “The Rise and Fall of Tiger Woods.” So I flipped to CNN, and the crawl read: “Tiger Woods [sic] mistress cries during apology.” Stop, already. OK, I guess that if you love golf (but why?), Tiger’s absence deprives the “sport” of its superstar (but one you rooted for? really? why?). Otherwise, the horrifying career death spiral that we all craned to see a few weeks ago was spectacle enough; this apology is just…{yawn}…zzzz. And to whom does he owe an apology, anyway? His wife, for sure. His sponsors, yes… especially if they can’t get out of paying him even though he’s been degraded from a hurricane to a tropical depression: from Tiger Woods to Kitty DuBois. (Let the drag shows begin!) Anyone else who cares should spend their extra time on, say, Ken-Ken puzzles.

I do give Tiger credit, though, for somehow hoodwinking the American public into averting its eyes from the fact that televised golf is hour upon hour of unrelieved tedium. At least his fall is marginally more interesting. If and when he does return to golf, may he be cosmically unsuccessful. Now, that would be worth watching (for about ten minutes). Everyman Phil Mickelson seems like a nicer guy, anyway.

“What Happens in Vegas” (and Throughout Nevada)

December 16th, 2009 No comments

It’s hard to offer any coherent commentary on Nevada, a state largely defined by the strangest city on Earth: Las Vegas. (Dubai, the U.A.E. city-state, is closing fast. In addition to an indoor ski slope in the desert, the developers of this weird place have just reaffirmed their commitment to a Tiger Woods-themed, $1 billion golf course.) So instead of piecing together some kind of commentary, I invite you to consider the connections and contradictions between the following “relationship” issues:

  • The Shady Lady Brothel has just announced that its first male workers (running the age gamut from early adulthood to (in this context) depressingly middle-aged) will start on January 5, 2010. OOH! My birthday is on January 6, for anyone in need of a gift suggestion.
  • Want a tacky wedding? (Is that redundant?) Embrace the moment with imitation Elvises in Vegas. (I know at least two couples who have done this.) These faux Kings can do just about anything: Jump out of planes; serenade in sequins (were you expecting “early Elvis”?)…. Get creative.
  • Hotties Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher’s inevitably lovable characters in the formulaic but appealing What Happens in Vegas provided a hit-you-over-the-head indictment of the instant wedding culture in Vegas when, drunk, they married in order to collect millions they’d won gambling. They ended up together, of course, in apparent affirmation of some cosmic cuteness principle.
  • Governor Gibbons of Nevada vetoed a domestic partnership bill this year, which aimed to provide same-sex) couples the benefits of marriage without the label. His spokesman said that he’d “stood up for what he believes in.” Which, given the state of marriage in Nevada is…what, exactly? On second thought, if he really doesn’t like us, perhaps he should have suggested marriage equality for gays instead.

Break into small discussion groups.

The Light in the Piazza (Or, Strained Connections to Tiger Woods)

December 11th, 2009 No comments

David and I recently took advantage of a generous invitation to see the latest production of the Philadelphia Theater Company, The Light in the Piazza. You might be asking yourself: What does this have to do with Tiger Woods? I’ll get to that.

The terrific show — which runs through this Sunday at the Suzanne Roberts Theater; go if you can — is set during a vacation in Florence, Italy, shortly after World War II. There, a middle-aged, Southern woman and her ingenue daughter (Clara) encounter a sexy Italian man who, with almost no effort, wins over Clara. Of course there’s a major obstacle to their union: Mother Margaret thinks that Clara “isn’t right,” and hasn’t been since she was kicked in the head, at age 12, by a pony.

The audience, though, knows differently. By the time we learn that Clara supposedly isn’t all there, the spoken and musical evidence (the show is a kind of operetta, but defies categories) has convinced us otherwise. So the story raises that universal question for parents: When do we let go? Clara is 26!

A parent’s natural protective urges, relinquished with difficulty in any case, would of course be even more powerful in a case like this. And it’s not hard to see how the challenges of raising a child with a (real or imagined) disability would crack open a marriage: Margaret and husband back home are finished, with the physical separation (he’s seen only on the other end of a few phone calls) underscoring for the emotional distance between them.

So Margaret has only Clara who, until now, has never talked back to her. Will she break free? Can Margaret allow herself to accept  the clear evidence that the doctors who predicted life-long arrested development were just wrong? After two hours of romantic comedy meets family therapy, you’ll have your answer.

And you might emerge from the experience reminded that letting go even when you — the parent — are not ready, is the right thing to do. Indeed, I thought back to this little essay after the show. Now I see why the mother let her son go live with his father, even though she could have fought this decision, and won. But when I read it, I thought: “Are you nuts? Why would you let your twelve-year-old son leave you for his long-absent dad?” The Light in the Piazza reminded me why.

Oh, right, Tiger: I hope this will be my only entry into the Tiger Woods Schadenfreude sweepstakes, but enter I will. Even though I, too, have slept with him, I’ve never really warmed up to the guy, and not just because I don’t get the whole golf thing. In fact, I might have gotten more interested in golf had I found something — besides the undeniable athletic genius, of course — to like. But no one is as chilly and machine-like as Tiger came across, really. Now we see that he’s…well, he’s a mess. And why? No shortage of amateur armchair psychologists here, and I might as well chime in. Lack of first-hand (or any hand) information will prove no barrier here.

Add Woods to Michael Jackson and countless other athletes and celebrities with insanely pushy, hermetic parents. I don’t know anything about Woods’s childhood, and it may be that his admittedly overbearing father did pretty well given his son’s early evidence of superhuman ability. But we all need to let our kids learn how to breathe on their own. If we don’t, they’ll hyperventilate later.

And perhaps pass out. As I was writing this, Tiger emerged from his bunker to announce an indefinite leave from golf.