I spent the morning writing a column about Tiger Woods’ confession. It just went live at Sympatico sports:
While watching the Presidents Cup in October, my five-year-old daughter walked in, sat down on the couch next to me and joined in the viewing.
As is often the case when he is playing, Tiger Woods came on the screen.
“Daddy, do you know him?” she asked.
I told her I’d met him, but couldn’t say I knew Woods well.
Turns out none of us did.
Today Woods, who has been under fire since a Thanksgiving night car accident mutated into speculation of widespread infidelities, released a statement seemingly admitting to the transgressions.
“Personal sins should not require press releases and problems within a family shouldn’t have to mean public confessions,” Woods said in a posting on his website.
