Tiger Is a Baby, But His Wife Does A Real Man’s Work


This morning the news shows replayed what seems to be Elin Woods’ frantic call to 911 seeking paramedics to help her mother. Did you hear it? This poor girl is half-hysterical that her mother is collapsed in agony and when the operator asks if her mother is breathing, Elin helplessly responds with something like, “I don’t know; I had to come here to the phone!” She then seems to rush back to check her mother’s respiration.

Ridiculously and, like most self-important and uninformed people in positions of momentary authority, the operator admonishes her firmly to “calm down.” Can we just agree right now that no emergency responders should ever, EVER, utter such ineffective and condescending words again?

But then we hear the most revealing aspect of the brief and compelling recording: A BABY IS CRYING IN THE BACKGROUND!!  Isn’t that astonishing in its predictability? Not only is Tiger Woods’ wife publicly humiliated and stalked by relentless paparazzi because of her husband’s appalling lack of taste and judgment, but she is wide awake at 2:30 in the morning seeking help for her mother and dealing with a fretful child.

Funny thing about the Woods house and 2:30am, since that’s also the ungodly hour when Tiger crashed his car, twice, into inanimate objects. They should all just take those Ambien we hear he was prescribed and SLEEP!

Living in that Orlando area “mansion” (as it’s always called in the media) must be a real bitch right now. His mother is there, her mother and sister are there, Elin is somewhere nearby (either in a another house down the street or in the Woods house) the babies are with Elin. Some reports say that Tiger’s feisty mom was accused of helping keep his assignations secret from Elin, so I’m sure there’s extra betrayal there, too.

I can just see Tiger now, in his big media room (all these jocks have big media rooms for watching games and drinking with the buddies.) He points the remote control at the window blinds to darken his womb and points another at the TV and turns it on LOUD. At his side on the Barcalounger is his still-smokin’ blackberry so that he can feebly continue his pathetic damage control—or, if his track record is any indication, he’s still reaching out to other girls for comfort. Icky icky.

Can’t you just see Elin, out in the kitchen and family room where the sun still shines, handing her darling toddler daughter to her mother or sister so that she can feed her infant son for the hundredth time. As beautiful as she is, she must look exhausted and puffy from lack of sleep and constant crying, but there she remains as much as she can, as the Woman of the House. Life all women who learn their husbands have cheated, she feels like the tectonic plates beneath her life are sliding all over the place. She can’t believe that her love has betrayed her.

One betrayal, though, might have been survivable. Nine or ten or however many times he’s disrespected their family, however, it is now a behavior too pathological to ignore. This year hasn’t been a good one for child prodigies has it? First Michael and now Tiger; maybe their should have been allowed to learn how to live a life along the way.

And here’s my message to the press parked outside the Woods’ houses: Get out of there and give Élan and the kids the chance to get outside and escape from the House of Pain. Life will look a lot better to them all in the fresh air and sunshine.


Vicki Iovine – Girlfriends' Guides