Poor Tiger!

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Wha! I'm so famous! Wha! I'm so rich. Wha! You newspaper people won't leave me alone!

I love the statements that come out after the fall from grace. Tiger admits to his transgressions, cites his values, his wonderful wife, and the belief that God will take him to where he needs to go from here.

All right - I suppose that is the only way to handle it, but then to cry and whine about the coverage that the tabloids blast his family with?

There are a billion reasons why Tiger is left to face the music. He sold himself to the world as being one way, and turns out he wasn't. Fine, who are we to judge, but to look for sympathy because people won't leave him alone?

Whatever - the OJ murders kind of laid rest to the idol worship in my life. I like millions of others marvel at the way that Tiger swings a golf club, but in the end, he's just putting a ball into a hole.

My son Sam chirpped in the other night when the story broke and we were all talking about the tearing down of Tiger.

"He hits a ball into a hole," I said. "He's not a hero."

"I wish you could hit a ball in the hole like that," Sam said, "But no! It takes you ten swings every time."

Granted. But for the first time I feel like I'm one up on Tiger.

Perhaps it is difficult to be a billionaire in a mansion with the whole world looking at you. Maybe it is difficult to live up to the idea that you're perfect and not prone to the weaknesses of the normal guy.

I'll give Tiger the benefit of the doubt - he isn't the first to have regrettable transgressions and he does deserve privacy in making it right within the framework of his own life.

But I don't feel sorry for him because the vultures won't leave him alone. He deserves it, don't you think?

I bet his wife thinks so.

Otherwise she wouldn't have been chasing him with that club.

Oh well, we will all gather to cheer him some more when he puts the ball in a hole quicker than we possibly can.

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