Tiger Woods: PR Grace or Simply a Disgrace?
After working on rehabilitating his personal life, Tiger Woods last month started to rehab his public image too. And, for this skeptical un-fan at least, it’s a good start.
The first step in his off-season PR moves was a Newsweek article, “How I’ve Redefined Victory.” I’m not naive enough to think Tiger wrote much of it himself, but if he signed off on it, I’m well-pleased.
Sure, as Lilit Marcus argues, he could have been a bit more explicit in why exactly he’s redefining his notion of victory — sexual addiction, infidelity, colossal stupidity aren’t exactly admitted. But he does write,
This much is obvious now: my life was out of balance, and my priorities were out of order. I made terrible choices and repeated mistakes. I hurt the people whom I loved the most. And even beyond accepting the consequences and responsibility, there is the ongoing struggle to learn from my failings.
And if the essay is to be believed, learning he is. Actually, after reading the piece I’m more open-minded and even hopeful for Woods. “[My previous self-reliance] made me think that if I was successful in golf, then I was invincible. Now I know that, no matter how tough or strong we are, we all need to rely on others” he writes.
Maybe I’m a sucker. (And yes, I surely am for grace and forgiveness and a fresh start — call me Christian, or call me American since such things are essential to the fabric of both my faith and my country.) But I really feel for the guy, and I wish him the best. He’s right when he says he can never truly repair the damage he’s done. But that doesn’t mean he should stop trying, or he should stop playing golf, or he should stop loving his children.
In a predictably caustic rebuttal of the Wood PR blitz Tim Dahlberg scoffs
“The most miserable year [Woods] could ever imagine is about over. He should be shouting in joy that he’s survived, even if his golf career may be ruined forever.
Except this time it won’t work.
Instead he’s trying to sell himself to the world in the same calculating way he once sold Nike’s golf equipment.
Besides the fact that Dahlberg seems to enjoy wielding blanket unsupported statements to back his depressing thesis as much as Vikings fans, in recent weeks, like to rip on Brett Farve, Dahlberg’s view that Woods public image is irredeemable simply isn’t accurate. Heck, in a strange way, I think Woods’ image has even more cache now, because America loves a tragic hero.
To be honest, I wasn’t much of a Woods fan before the affair++, but now, for some reason and really for the first time, I’d like to see Woods do well. And regarding the PR efforts, I guess I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. I wish him luck as he begins to rebuild his image through Twitter and Facebook, TV appearances, and, well, maybe even winning some golf tournaments again.
image by Brandon Ledger
Series: What I learned about the US by living in Scotland, Part III
Part I: America is big, no really, America is big
Part II: Americans are conservative
Part III: Americans are informal
Scene: a hospital this afternoon…
Member: Hello Mr. Copeland
Me: Hello Jane, it’s good to see you. We know each other well now, though, so please just call me Adam.
Member: I don’t think so Mr. Copeland.
Me: Jane!…my first name’s Adam not “Mr.”
Member: Nope. You’re my minister. And if you want to stay that way, I’ll be calling you “Mr. Copeland.”
Me: Yes ma’am Mrs. Doe.
Americans are informal. Or at least, Scottish folks are more formal than Americans. I’ll preface the rest of my remarks with a dollup of reminder that the bulk of my experiences are drawn from older folks active in church life, who may tend to be a bit more interested in formalities, but I’m willing to stick with my thesis: “Americans are informal.”
Take the conversation above. Or the fact that you never ever get a doggie bag here–crazy, I know. Or to stay on the restaraunt theme, folks tend to order several courses, restaurants tend to bring special silverware for each, waiters tend not to say, “Hey, I’m Frank and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” and you never get ice–ok, the lack of ice is totally unrelated. Anyways.
Take Ayr High Street. If you walk around tomorrow morning, you’ll find scores of old Scottish men wearing shirts and tie, many in full suits. These men maybe had a doctor’s appointment, maybe got coffee with a friend, or quite likely are just out shopping. Old Scottish men–in Ayr at least–dress up a whole heckuva lot more than home. Church attire is more formal as well.
Or take the ridiculous way Scots write formal English. “Dear Sir. I hasten to write forthwith regarding a preponderance of the tactical information gathered upon the inspection of your abode last Friday, 12th of June year of our Lord 2008…” That’s darn near close to what a plumber wrote me to tell his bid on some work at the manse. At home a plumber might call you to say, “That’ll set you back $400 bucks, buddy” and certainly wouldn’t write in the most ridiculous over-formal British prose that smacks more of Elizabethan encyclopedia entries than clear communication.
Or take the royal family–it exists, they’re about as formal as can be, people have huge affinity for them. Yep.
Overall, I really like American informality. It acts as a leveler, a down-to-earth simplifier that cuts through undue formality that so often functions to separate one group from another. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for manners and ettiquette, but there’s a difference between politeness and frufruity.
So when I return to the states, I’ll have new eyes and respect for American informality. I won’t burp when I get into that first restaurant, but I’ll happily take my leftovers home, eat my one course with any old fork, and if I write the restaurant afterwards, I’ll just pop off a quick email.
Series: What I learned about America by living in Scotland, Part II
Part II: Americans are conservative
(for part I see: America is big. No, really, America is BIG!)
A few months ago, Reubin Askew, former Democratic governor of Florida who also served in the Carter administration, was a guest on the BBC political show “Question Time.” After spending some time in the UK, Askew explained to the audience, “As far as I can tell, everybody in the UK is a Democrat.”
After living in swing state Florida and unruly Minnesota–not to mention red state Georgia–I was shocked. Everyone in the UK a Democrat? Who was Askew kidding?
Six months later, I get it. Askew has a point. Actually, I’d say most people in the UK would vote Democrat, and a fair amount would vote for more liberal independent parties.
Here’s why: on many many issues over which there’s a Republican/Democrat divide, Brits have long-settled in favor of the Democrat position.
In the UK, folks overwhelmingly:
- are in favor of universal healthcare
- are against the death penalty
- are for very strong gun control (knives too, actually)
- accept the reality of human-caused climate change and favor strict governmental moves to curb it
- are against political tactics that prey on fear, hate, and dividing one from another
- are for full civil rights for glbt persons
- value conversation and partnership among nations rather than unilateral bullying from a position of power
Now I’m not writing this to push away my Republican friends, nor do I think pointing to another country–with plenty of its own problems–and cherry-picking major issues is a great way forward for conversation. But I do think the US is much more conservative than the UK, and that Askew’s claim is accurate.
I’d say much of our conservatism comes from a certain form of Christianity, much of it reflects a fortress mentality, much of it points to the fact that so many Americans live in cultural bubbles without enough exposure to the other.
If this were a sermon, I’d move to the call to action part now. But it’s not, so I won’t. Instead, just a simply summary: America is pretty darn conservative, compared to the UK at least. For better or for worse, that’s good to remember.
Series: What I learned about America by living in Scotland, I
I’m pretty swamped right now, and have lots of fantastic post ideas but no time to write. But I wanted to at least begin a series both fun and ideal for quick posting. The series is: What I learned about America by living in Scotland.
Ok, so it’s a really bad name, but at least it’s descriptive. Over my final (*tear) last six weeks in Scotland I hope to reflect on a few of learnings from people to politics to religion to dirt.
First reflection: America is big. No, really, American is BIG!
Sure, I knew America was big before staying for a year in Scotland, but more of the implications have surfaced for me this year. We drive bigger cars because we’re in them longer, we drive longer distances, we have wider roads, and we’re bigger people (aka fatter.)
Scotland can fit into the United States 127 times. Scotland can fit into Georgia twice. The population of Scotland is very similar to the population of the Atlanta metro area.
Everything is smaller here: cartons of juice, refrigerators, cars, bags of chips, cans of soup, shoe sizes, yards, houses, fairways, even blades of grass (one exception is the new Church of Scotland hymnal, but we won’t go there).
The implications of these size differences are many. Scots have a clearer understanding that they are citizens of the world, not just their country (the United Kingdom questions help this). I’d say Americans are much more showy in their patriotism, much more arrogant in their citizenship than Scots. When Scots visit other countries, Americans visit other states. This makes Americans a little more nearsighted (in the real eye doctor sense, at least).
I also feel like Americans think a little bigger sometimes. Their horizons are so distant, their country so vast, perhaps their ingenuity is piqued by the sheer amount of possibilities in a country so large.
Big generalization here, but I also feel like Americans live more secluded lives, especially in terms of our class structure. While in Scotland it’s common to have a more shady neighborhood just a few blocks from an expensive one, American neighborhoods are often so spread out they don’t ever see the other. Many Americans get in the SUVs to drive to work behind tinted windows. Scots are much more likely to walk, ride the bus, or take the train. This increases Americans’ individualism.
America, obviously, has many more regions than Scotland; it’s much more diverse geographically in many ways because it’s so much bigger. Americans then have a bit more regional identity than Scots. It’s difficult to compare this assertion, since folks from Glasgow and Edinburgh (only an hour apart) have different accents and culture. But, I would say there are more possible differences at home, and more regional identity claiming. Not totally sure about these implications, but perhaps it makes Americans more likely to tell their own story about their own place to explain to others from other places. Maybe it makes us more narrative? Ok, I’m no sociologist so will stop here before I get myself into trouble.
Cheerio.
image by Billy Alexander
Two silly questions surrounding the Rev. Wright furor
I’ve been annoyed enough at the talking heads to address two questions that keep popping up with two answers that never make the networks. Here’s my quick takes:
If Obama knew of Wright’s controversial nature, why didn’t he leave the church?
This question reveals a pretty sad understanding of church: an organization one joins or leaves solely because of one preacher (or one sermon). The church is not a social club to boycott if the Word raises hackles. The church is a community of believers–the body of Christ–called together by God and seeking to worship and serve.
Membership in a particular congregation should be about that congregation as a whole–the relationships with other members, service in the community, opportunities for spiritual growth and discipleship, proclamation of the gospel in word and deeds–and overall, focused on worship and serving the Triune God.
It’s always good for ministers to remember that the particular church in which they serve was there before a certain minister arrived, and will be there following.
How could Wight say, “God damn America”?
News flash: Christianity isn’t politically correct, or even politically sensitive. I wish God would damn America’s sins–of homelessness and poverty, of unjustified war and privileging the rich. Turns out the gospel does not equal America. Of course, as a policy we’d be better seeking ways to further God’s kingdom rather than dole out God’s damnings. In a Wright-re-done Lincoln’s famous quote, “Sir, my concern is not whether God is damning America; my greatest concern is that I might be damning only what God would damn.”
Of course, the more positive and more helpful way to put Wright’s phrase “not God bless America but God damn America” is David LaMotte’s “God bless the people of every nation.” But that’s for another sermon.
Update: Check out Jim’s post today here. Similar stuff, but another perspective.
Why I love America
It’s easy to crack on. It’s easy to hate. But through it all I never forget: damn I love America. Here’s why…
People who care, who try, who cry.
The land that goes on and on. And on.
Creeks and lakes and coasts and bayous and fields and farms.
Diversity. Ingenuity. Tenacity.
Rocking chairs in Charlotte airport.
Mountains as far as you can see.
Large parking spaces.
Apple computers.
The New York Times.
Barristas who know your name. Suit salesmen who know your size . Store clerks who’ll tell you, “It looks great on you” whether it does or not.
College football.
A refusal to accept less than the best.
Hybrid cars. Windmills. Organic farming.
Freedom of religion–and freedom to disagree.
A political system we can trust. A court system too.
People who love their jobs.
It’s huge, but still small enough to run in that old friend.
Free wireless. Jazz. Baseball.
The distinct character of each state.
A volunteer military.
A hopeful future.
A place to call home.
Any you?
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