Catch A Tiger By The Toe

I know I am not supposed to be entertained by the whole “scandal” surrounding Tiger Woods these days, but I am.  Yes, its tragic when grown-ups can’t be grown-ups, and its even more tragic that, out of the group of people who have discussed this small news item with me, no one was surprised.  In other words, if Tiger wasn’t actually married, people would expect him to do the exact things that he’s been rumored to be — or had been — doing, and with applause too.  But what I find funny is how Elin was probably swinging Tiger’s iconic golf clubs at his Cadillac as he fled their marital abode late in the night of Thanksgiving.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I doubt William Congreve could have written a better image to sum that up.

Poor Elin. Nanny to superstar wife to . . . the future recipient of half of Tiger Woods’ net worth.  Not so bad, I guess, in the same way that Cotto earned millions of dollars for getting his face bloodied and swollen after less than thirty minutes in the ring with Pacquaio.  But is it really worth it?  I can’t help but think that when she got married, she wasn’t just thinking about the fame and fortune, but also of that little girl playing dress up with her mother’s pearls and wedding veil, of that happy ever after ending with rainbows and unicorns, of (dare I say it?) love.  What happens to that person?  Whatever way you want to call it, can that sort of naivety or loss of innocence, however small and insignificant to begin with, be bought?

Eeny meeny miny moe, catch a tiger by the toe, if he hollers let him go, my mother told me to pick the best one . . .


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