Tiger Woods: his televised apology begs the question of sincerity

Tiger Woods had bought a new shirt. But, rather like a schoolboy on his first day of term, it appeared to be at least one collar size too large.

The starch-stiff collar appeared to swamp his shrunk neck.
Was this a detail overlooked by his handlers? Or did they mean it to be too large, calculated to lend him a look of vulnerability?

A vulnerability which might appeal to the kind of middle-aged women who were hand-picked to sit in the front row of his rather awkward-looking audience at the TPC Sawgrass Club House at Ponte Vedra Beach in Florida?
And that, perhaps, was the trouble with Tiger Woods' marathon 'mea culpa'. Certainly, he said sorry. In fact he kept on saying sorry. He wouldn't stop. As the numerous television and radio commentators said afterwards, he seemed sincere.
But a small voice kept asking if every word and every gesture had been arranged, down to the smallest detail.
Every word had a purpose and nothing had been left to chance. It was the same voice which kept asking whether this was a public apology to his family or to the sponsors who made his fortune.
There was only one point when things seemed to go awry. Half way through, the screen went blank.
The disembodied voice of the golfer was heard to continue pleading for forgiveness but the face of Nike, and once of Accenture, was gone.
A technical glitch? A mishap befalling the micromanaged comeback? Perhaps.
When pictures returned to the screen seconds later, the viewer was no longer looking straight in Tiger's poker face.
Instead the worldwide audience of millions, was peering over his blazered shoulder at the audience.
There in the front row was his mother Kutilda, willing her son to success. Behind her were various besuited men, the soul of golfing middle America.
And then it became apparent what was about to happen. Tiger wasn't just there to say sorry.
No, he was there to be forgiven as well.
And there they were, the forgivers, waiting to do their bit. Once he'd finished his confessional in front of the Presidential blue velvet curtain, he stepped down from the lectern to be embraced first by his mother and then rest of his visibly moved retinue.
He was forgiven. Or, to be more precise, he and his business associated arranged that he would be forgiven by the hand-picked audience.
The apologies had not so much flowed from him as been released by his staccato voice, as if by a series of sluice gates.
"I want to say to all of you, simply and directly, that I am deeply sorry for my irresponsible and selfish behaviour," said the 14-times Major champion, after his three-month silence.
To ensure there was no doubt he spelt it out: "I was unfaithful, I had affairs, I cheated. What I did was unacceptable."
As Woods spoke he looked down at his typed confession, straight ahead at the camera, occasionally flicking his eyes at his mother.
But was he looking to her for support? Or were those glances merely part of a continuing act, to give the impression that even he was no rock, no island?
"I had affairs and I cheated. What I did was not acceptable, and I am the only person to blame," he continued.
Nonetheless his words had the ring of truth. They addressed what many have said – that the superstar was arrogant and had lost touch with reality.
"I knew my actions were wrong but I convinced myself that the normal rules didn't apply," he said.
"I never thought about who I was hurting. Instead, I only thought about myself. I ran straight through the boundaries that a normal married couple should live by. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me. I felt that I was entitled. Thanks to money and fame, I didn't have to go far to find them."
"I was wrong. I was foolish. I don't get to play by different rules."
Perhaps 45 days in therapy have begun to change him, we were invited to think.
He admitted: "I brought this shame on myself. I hurt my wife, my kids, my mother, my wife’s family, my friends, my foundation and kids all around the world who admired me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I’ve done. My failures have made me look at myself in a way I never wanted to before. It’s now up to me to make amends."
Still, the supercool Woods rarely seemed near to cracking. Those who had hoped for a tear or a broken chord were left disappointed.
The closest he came was when defending himself and his family against inaccurate press reports and defending his right to privacy.
"Elin never hit me that night, or any other night," he growled. "There has never been an episode of domestic violence."
He appealed for the "paparazzi" to stop hounding his family. It sounded like an attack.
Of his marriage, Woods said that he and his wife "have a lot to discuss ... But what we say will stay between the two of us.
"I understand people have questions. I understand people want to know if Elin and I will stay together. Every one of these questions and answers are between Elin and me."
There was the deal: 'I give you this statement, you stay off our backs', he appeared to say.
Woods also took the opportunity to quash rumours that he would return to golf soon, saying: "I do plan to return to golf one day, I just don't know when that day will be. I don't rule out that it will be this year."
And he surprisingly apologised to his fellow golf professionals, saying that he should treat the game with the respect it deserved.
But while he apologised to all, everyone knew that it was the apology to the most wronged, his wife Elin, was the only one that really mattered.
It was strange, then, that she was the one person who was not there.