I DON’T know Tiger Woods and I never will.
I haven’t met him, played with him or interviewed him. I haven’t even seen him in the flesh, if you’ll pardon the expression.
I don’t know if he’s a decent bloke or a cad, a focused and determined individual or an ass.
And I don’t care. But I’m glad he’s winning again.
Not because I’m a fan, though no-one could fail to be impressed by the way he dominated world golf for a decade, and not because I had a tenner on him.
I’m glad he won because it’s one in the eye for the moralisers.
One in the rough for those who were so quick to destroy him when he slipped off the moral pedestal that others put him on.
There’s no doubt he made a hash of things, cheated, told lies and paid a very heavy price for all those things - they cost him his marriage and millions of dollars.
But his win at the Chevron World Challenge in California at the weekend might be a way back for him and a continuation of his magnificent career.
I hope so.
I hope he gets chance to rub the noses of the sniping, back-biting parasites who represent the very worst of golf culture.
Those who love rules and etiquette more than they love the game, who trade in gossip and affect an air of respectability to enhance their status at their clubs.
Those for whom it is more important to be well-in with the captain and his wife than it is to play the game.
Those for whom golf is not a sport but a means to aquire kudos, make contacts and be somebody.
Tiger Woods may be a jerk, rude, lewd and not nice to be around for all I know. So are a lot of other people. In every workplace, pub and golf course there are worse than Tiger Woods.
The real reason people were so glad to see him fall is because he was so bloody good.
What lies behind their dancing on the grave of his cancelled sponsorships and lost endorsements is sheer envy.
He was the best in the world by miles and had around $90 million dollars in the bank to prove it.
A lot of people wouldn’t like that.
Tiger Woods will be 36 on December 30 and the chances are we have seen the best of him, persistent knee injuries inflicting a lot more damage than anything he might have got up to in his car.
I hope he wins another five majors and restores his status in the sport.
His reputation in the nastier quarters of the world’s golf club bars and lounges should be left to those who get their kicks there.
No-one else really cares what they think.
Socrates of Brazil was a hero on so many levels. Genius footballer, doctor, super-cool and a lad who loved to smoke and drink too much.
Dead at 57, he’s like the kid at school who could have been brilliant if he hadn’t started downing six pints a day from being 15. Socrates did that and more and still captained Brazil at a World Cup. Respect.
There are some brilliant put-downs in football. ‘He couldn’t trap a bag of sand’, ‘His second touch is usually a header, ‘Milk turns faster’ etc etc. Ex-News Of The World sports writer Andy Dunn came out with a cracker on Radio Five this weekend. Talking about a player being short of pace he said: “He’s slower than a week in prison.” Cruel but brilliant.