I know exactly what would happen if I cracked up my car at 2 in the morning outside my little ol’ house in southwest Amarillo: The EMTs would come, patch me up a little bit, take me to the hospital, release me to the care of my wife — and no one other than my loved ones and me would give a rip.
Not so with Tiger Woods. He is paying the price of the fame he has accrued by being the greatest golfer in the universe this side of Jack Nicklaus.
He banged up his car in front of his zillion-dollar house; reports said at first he was in “serious condition”; we learned later he was treated and released. Now there are reports about an affair, which Woods denies.
He says the matter is private and he wants it “to stay that way.” I don’t blame him..
But this is what happens in this celebrity-crazed society. The media glom onto stories like this because some people actually care about these things.
You’ve heard it said that “Nothing good happens after midnight”? That’s especially true if you’re the most famous athlete on the planet.