If the sincerity of the Tiger Woods show was reflective of his own personal stance, then his promise to reform probably lasted as long as it took him to bump into the rather nice blond production girl lurking just behind the mysterious blue curtain through which he exited.
Unless of course it was Woods himself who was lurking behind the curtain, waiting calls for an encore, accompanied by some mad cheering, stamping and screams of "we love you Tiger"
If indeed it was Tiger? Or perhaps Will Smith, reprising his role as Bagger Vance?
Woods 14 minutes can be summed up as follows:
"Sorry I got caught. Leave me alone. I am the real victim here. I'm not coming back unless you promise to leave me alone. Oh, and by the way, to those rats at Accenture, and the humble mortals pros who dared criticise me, sod you"
Most interesting, perhaps, was the body language of the Nike rep, who was distinctly cold on him. Of note, too, was the absence of self proclaimed best friend and brutish minder Steve Williams, who carries Tiger's bag, although not his baggage.
Like America, Woods finds it hard to believe there are those who do not actually like him. His absolute lack of humility, his extraordinary absence of genuine regret, his unmitigated arrogance in the way he has chosen to reintroduce himself to the world is breathtaking. Whoever directed that sorry little show deserves an Oscar. Best scriptwriter, though, will be going elsewhere.
He would do well to observe PT Barnum's famous maxim that you cannot fool all of the people all of the time - right now he thinks he may still be doing so - a sad state of affairs indeed.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
On a big pussy
Not since the Bolshoi Ballet produced Swan Lake for Vladimir Ilyich has the world seen such careful and precise orchestration.
The timing of the Tiger Woods comeback conference is acute. Yes, during the Accenture Matchplay, as a deliberate snub to a fleeing sponsor. No, not during actual hours of play, so he can't really be accused of demonstrating people would rather watch him than other golfers. But the threat is implicit.
It is also condoned, nay, endorsed by Tim Finchem, and that should be a real concern. Tiger seems to have the Indian sign over the PGA - yes, he boosts their revenues, but like any one man band, you must plan for succession if you are to avoid dependency.
Further evidence that Tiger will not tolerate insubordination came very quickly today. No sooner had he announced his conference than his fellow pros turned on him.
3 leading players broke ranks and dared to criticise Woods; within hours they were all eliminated from the Accenture Matchplay - Messrs Els, Ogilvy and McIlroy. Such is the extent and power of the mystic influence Woods exerts over the world of professional golf. Call it coincidence if you like, but.....
NOSF has not been invited to be part of Woods cosy chat; I did request an invite, and submitted a list of thoughtful and insightful questions I would like to ask.
For the record, here they are:
1. Tiger, do you feel that listening to the phrase "get in the hole" ad nauseam on the golf course has in some way influenced your behaviour?
2. Mr Woods, have you had a shag since you wife left you, and if so, how many?
3. Is it true KY have approached you to endorse their products next year?
4. The Swedes are normally quite open minded about sex. Is it true that Elin's anger was mainly because she was not invited to join in?
5. Several of your alleged lovers have said you are hung like a Hippo - the same brand of clubs as used by Ian Woosnam. Are they a potential sponsor?
6. I don't get laid as much as I used to; have you got any handy tips?
In around 12 hours, Tiger many well have answered these questions and more. But I am betting we get a token apology, a return date to golf, a few crocodile tears and a terse now sod off and leave me alone to win some more majors.
And that's what will happen. Because Tigers really are a protected species.
The timing of the Tiger Woods comeback conference is acute. Yes, during the Accenture Matchplay, as a deliberate snub to a fleeing sponsor. No, not during actual hours of play, so he can't really be accused of demonstrating people would rather watch him than other golfers. But the threat is implicit.
It is also condoned, nay, endorsed by Tim Finchem, and that should be a real concern. Tiger seems to have the Indian sign over the PGA - yes, he boosts their revenues, but like any one man band, you must plan for succession if you are to avoid dependency.
Further evidence that Tiger will not tolerate insubordination came very quickly today. No sooner had he announced his conference than his fellow pros turned on him.
3 leading players broke ranks and dared to criticise Woods; within hours they were all eliminated from the Accenture Matchplay - Messrs Els, Ogilvy and McIlroy. Such is the extent and power of the mystic influence Woods exerts over the world of professional golf. Call it coincidence if you like, but.....
NOSF has not been invited to be part of Woods cosy chat; I did request an invite, and submitted a list of thoughtful and insightful questions I would like to ask.
For the record, here they are:
1. Tiger, do you feel that listening to the phrase "get in the hole" ad nauseam on the golf course has in some way influenced your behaviour?
2. Mr Woods, have you had a shag since you wife left you, and if so, how many?
3. Is it true KY have approached you to endorse their products next year?
4. The Swedes are normally quite open minded about sex. Is it true that Elin's anger was mainly because she was not invited to join in?
5. Several of your alleged lovers have said you are hung like a Hippo - the same brand of clubs as used by Ian Woosnam. Are they a potential sponsor?
6. I don't get laid as much as I used to; have you got any handy tips?
In around 12 hours, Tiger many well have answered these questions and more. But I am betting we get a token apology, a return date to golf, a few crocodile tears and a terse now sod off and leave me alone to win some more majors.
And that's what will happen. Because Tigers really are a protected species.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
On the great escape
There is an old Yemeni saying that every man has one chance to escape perdition in his life.
That chance may well have been used simultaneously by 22 Welshmen and 3 coaches on Saturday, when Wales, by the narrowest of margins, managed to squeak past a braver, better organised and ultimately hungrier Scottish side.
In fact, it was the greatest escape ever. It couldn't have been greater if Gatland had brought on Gordon Jackson and Richard Attenborough to shore up the pack, and Steve McQueen to inject some pace into the backline.
It is hard to give Wales credit. The Scots were down to thirteen, the winning try came about 2 weeks after time was up, most of the Scots were already in the showers getting ready for a few beers, and even nominal defence coach Sean Edwards had the sort of look on his face at the final whistle that reminded one of OJ on hearing his verdict.
To say "we'll take the win, however it comes", rang about as true as if those same sentiments had been offered by the England cricket team after squeaking home by 2 runs in the final over against the Rotherwick 3rdXI.
It should have been a Scottish defeat on the scale of Bannockburn, but instead it was nearly Culloden.Or should that be the other way around? Who cares.
On that showing, even the Wops will fancy their chances against Wales, and as for the French, well, they'll be smoking Gallois a week on Friday.
Wales undeniably have some talented players, but until they change coach they are doomed. Keen students of the game will recall that Gatland also had an initially successful spell as coach of Ireland, but the Irish, too canny to be suckered, worked out he was there to ruin their chances in the World Cup and got rid of him. Recent evidence suggests he is playing a similar role in Wales - win a Grand Slam, make the job a sinecure until after the World Cup, then quietly but surely baffle the players with illogical selections, obscure gameplans, and ensure that come 2011, they are in disarray, paving the way for the All Blacks to finally win.
So fire the Kiwi Quisling, is the call from NOSF, bring back Ruddock (now Alfie and Henson are gone there's no-one in the dressing room who objects to a ban on make-up) and lets show the ABs that 15 good men from a small part of one island still have the wood on 15 blokes from lots and lots of islands when it really matters.
That chance may well have been used simultaneously by 22 Welshmen and 3 coaches on Saturday, when Wales, by the narrowest of margins, managed to squeak past a braver, better organised and ultimately hungrier Scottish side.
In fact, it was the greatest escape ever. It couldn't have been greater if Gatland had brought on Gordon Jackson and Richard Attenborough to shore up the pack, and Steve McQueen to inject some pace into the backline.
It is hard to give Wales credit. The Scots were down to thirteen, the winning try came about 2 weeks after time was up, most of the Scots were already in the showers getting ready for a few beers, and even nominal defence coach Sean Edwards had the sort of look on his face at the final whistle that reminded one of OJ on hearing his verdict.
To say "we'll take the win, however it comes", rang about as true as if those same sentiments had been offered by the England cricket team after squeaking home by 2 runs in the final over against the Rotherwick 3rdXI.
It should have been a Scottish defeat on the scale of Bannockburn, but instead it was nearly Culloden.Or should that be the other way around? Who cares.
On that showing, even the Wops will fancy their chances against Wales, and as for the French, well, they'll be smoking Gallois a week on Friday.
Wales undeniably have some talented players, but until they change coach they are doomed. Keen students of the game will recall that Gatland also had an initially successful spell as coach of Ireland, but the Irish, too canny to be suckered, worked out he was there to ruin their chances in the World Cup and got rid of him. Recent evidence suggests he is playing a similar role in Wales - win a Grand Slam, make the job a sinecure until after the World Cup, then quietly but surely baffle the players with illogical selections, obscure gameplans, and ensure that come 2011, they are in disarray, paving the way for the All Blacks to finally win.
So fire the Kiwi Quisling, is the call from NOSF, bring back Ruddock (now Alfie and Henson are gone there's no-one in the dressing room who objects to a ban on make-up) and lets show the ABs that 15 good men from a small part of one island still have the wood on 15 blokes from lots and lots of islands when it really matters.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
On the demise of Gatland
Gatland has one match to turn things around - that's the word out of the Welsh camp after a dismal display compounded some extraordinary selections for the English match. Howley will follow him regardless at the end of the season.
Leading the exodus from the Welsh camp this week will be Gareth Cooper, Andy Powell and Tom James. Welcome to the team Richie Rees, Jonathon Thomas and Lee Halfpenny.
Cruelly shorn of two thirds of the Worlds best front row (it's Ok, I laid in a stock of new understrides) just days before the game, and hampered by a halfback who is the slowest passer in the world of either hand, as well as a number six who really puts the blind, into blindside, it was always going to be a struggle.
Abject as England were, and believe me if MJ takes anything other than huge concerns away from this game then he is sadly deluded, the loss of 25% of the Jones boys for 5 minutes either side of half time was just a step too far.
Quite what possessed Alun-Wyn, or Alun EnglandWyn as he was apparently called by one team mate after the game, we can only wonder. Pulling out an M16 and spraying the man with bullets would have marginally subtler. His hitherto unblemished record will be as stained as a schoolboys sheet by this transgression.
Only Hook, through his sheer class, and Adam Jones, who is clearly still on the pies, stood out for Wales. Shane Williams had more chance of being caught in possession of heroin than the ball, and Lee Byrne's diffidence to get involved presumably stemmed from his concerns over whether he was the 17th or 18th welshman on the field.
For the Sais, Borthwick managed to keep his nose from getting cut, Care did enough to keep the far more able Youngs out of the squad, but the rest looked like the journeymen they are.
Perhaps the most interesting performance of the entire match came for Prince William, the second in line to the throne of England, who seemed rapturously, and unashamedly delighted whenever Wales scored. Surely he doesn't really think the Welsh recognise the title Prince of Wales?
So on we go, as the Hollies would say, and the road to the end of the championship may well indeed be a long and winding one.
Wales will be concerned, and rightly on this performance, about a resurgent and positive Scotland, whilst England have only a few days in which to enjoy their false dawn before being cast down into the depths of despair.
Leading the exodus from the Welsh camp this week will be Gareth Cooper, Andy Powell and Tom James. Welcome to the team Richie Rees, Jonathon Thomas and Lee Halfpenny.
Cruelly shorn of two thirds of the Worlds best front row (it's Ok, I laid in a stock of new understrides) just days before the game, and hampered by a halfback who is the slowest passer in the world of either hand, as well as a number six who really puts the blind, into blindside, it was always going to be a struggle.
Abject as England were, and believe me if MJ takes anything other than huge concerns away from this game then he is sadly deluded, the loss of 25% of the Jones boys for 5 minutes either side of half time was just a step too far.
Quite what possessed Alun-Wyn, or Alun EnglandWyn as he was apparently called by one team mate after the game, we can only wonder. Pulling out an M16 and spraying the man with bullets would have marginally subtler. His hitherto unblemished record will be as stained as a schoolboys sheet by this transgression.
Only Hook, through his sheer class, and Adam Jones, who is clearly still on the pies, stood out for Wales. Shane Williams had more chance of being caught in possession of heroin than the ball, and Lee Byrne's diffidence to get involved presumably stemmed from his concerns over whether he was the 17th or 18th welshman on the field.
For the Sais, Borthwick managed to keep his nose from getting cut, Care did enough to keep the far more able Youngs out of the squad, but the rest looked like the journeymen they are.
Perhaps the most interesting performance of the entire match came for Prince William, the second in line to the throne of England, who seemed rapturously, and unashamedly delighted whenever Wales scored. Surely he doesn't really think the Welsh recognise the title Prince of Wales?
So on we go, as the Hollies would say, and the road to the end of the championship may well indeed be a long and winding one.
Wales will be concerned, and rightly on this performance, about a resurgent and positive Scotland, whilst England have only a few days in which to enjoy their false dawn before being cast down into the depths of despair.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
On domestic violence
South Wales Police have reported that domestic abuse complaints rise by up to 80% at 6 Nations time.
Well of course they would - after Gatland has let you down again with some dodgy selections, Powell has needlessly given away 7 penalties, England have won by 7 points and you're 9 cans of Brains Dark to the good, well it's clearly all the wife's fault, so why wouldn't you smack her round a bit?
It brings to mind the old saying: "What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? Nothing, she's been told twice already"
Picture the scene.....
Dai Jones is slumped on the couch (no sofas in Wales, and only the really smart set have settees). In front of him Dewi Morris (that damned traitor) is interviewing a victorious Steve Borthwick, whose rather annoying nose cut has flared up again. Wales, who lead 27-0 at half time, capitulated in the face of a Johnny Wilksinson drop goal onslaught in the second half to lose 30-27. In comes the wife.....
"Oh, has it finished, who won?" she says.
"The Sais", mutters Jones, who is struggling with Brains Dark and speech.
"Oh, didn't they play very well then? " she enquires gaily.
"It doesn't bloody matter if they play well when every bloody decision goes against them" growls Dai who is sinking deeper into the mire.
"Oh you always say that when they lose. I expect the English are just a better team"
"No they're not, they're bloody crap, and we are much better, but fate once again has conspired against us and thanks to a blind linesman we had a try disallowed in injury time as well"
"Oh calm down", she says, "are you going to be in a bad mood all weekend?"
At which point the good Mr Jones would indeed be remiss if he didn't stand up and give her the slap she so thoroughly deserved.
If women took more time to understand the 6 Nations, and what it means to their menfolk, then incidents of this kind could be avoided.
And if that's not possible, because you married some bra burning, hairy legged hockey fan, then suggest a trial separation for Feb and March each year.
Because it is about to start, and it is indeed serious business!
Well of course they would - after Gatland has let you down again with some dodgy selections, Powell has needlessly given away 7 penalties, England have won by 7 points and you're 9 cans of Brains Dark to the good, well it's clearly all the wife's fault, so why wouldn't you smack her round a bit?
It brings to mind the old saying: "What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? Nothing, she's been told twice already"
Picture the scene.....
Dai Jones is slumped on the couch (no sofas in Wales, and only the really smart set have settees). In front of him Dewi Morris (that damned traitor) is interviewing a victorious Steve Borthwick, whose rather annoying nose cut has flared up again. Wales, who lead 27-0 at half time, capitulated in the face of a Johnny Wilksinson drop goal onslaught in the second half to lose 30-27. In comes the wife.....
"Oh, has it finished, who won?" she says.
"The Sais", mutters Jones, who is struggling with Brains Dark and speech.
"Oh, didn't they play very well then? " she enquires gaily.
"It doesn't bloody matter if they play well when every bloody decision goes against them" growls Dai who is sinking deeper into the mire.
"Oh you always say that when they lose. I expect the English are just a better team"
"No they're not, they're bloody crap, and we are much better, but fate once again has conspired against us and thanks to a blind linesman we had a try disallowed in injury time as well"
"Oh calm down", she says, "are you going to be in a bad mood all weekend?"
At which point the good Mr Jones would indeed be remiss if he didn't stand up and give her the slap she so thoroughly deserved.
If women took more time to understand the 6 Nations, and what it means to their menfolk, then incidents of this kind could be avoided.
And if that's not possible, because you married some bra burning, hairy legged hockey fan, then suggest a trial separation for Feb and March each year.
Because it is about to start, and it is indeed serious business!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
On the 6 Nations decider
Right here in that little bastion that is forever Wales, namely 72 Fairview Crescent, Waiheke, the excitment is building., No, not the AC/DC concert tomorrow night, although that too promises much, but in fact the onset of the 6 Nations - and with it, the match of the greatest significance to either side, Wales versus England. Sure, Triple Crowns and Grand Slams are nice, but victory over the old foe, for either side, is what marks a good season from bad.
The enmity between the men of Cymru and the incomers, the Sais, goes back evermore in history, and is, I am delighted to say, as acute as ever.
This years' game has the added impetus given by the Lee Byrne controversy. So, ERC, it's OK for England to cheat at will, but not Wales? Thankfully justice has been done and we can expect to see Byrne trotting out with his team mates in the number 16 jersey shortly before the singing begins.
It should be a good match. Brian Moore has promised to observe 90 minutes silence in honour of Bill Mclaren, which should improve the commentary, and both teams have a point to prove, not least the English who in recent times have finally started to earn some the accolades they have been accused of over the years - boring, unimaginative, staid, pointless, well tryless anyway.
Team divot, sorry, pivot, Johmmy Wilko is primed to kick all day, just to prove that Matthew Tait is no good with the ball in hand, and up front 3 journeymen will compete with the best front row in the world.
Who would have thought it, Wales having the best front row in the world. I'll say it again, it has a nice ring to it. Wales having the best front row in the world. Whoops, time for a change of understrides.
It brings back memories of the great Poolers of the 70's; Charlie Faulkner, Graham Price and the other fellow, what was his name? Something to do with Germany? Ah yes, Bobby Windsor.
And now it's Jenkins, Jones and Rees - three finer Welshmen, and indeed Welsh names, you couldn't hope for. Uhoh, there goes another pair.
The genius of Ryan Jones at 8, the evergreen, well, ginger Williams at openside, and than a back line showing a dazzling array of talent, Lions to a man.....except! The one gaping hole is at scrum half. Cruelly shorn of Phillips, there is a chance to blood Richie Rees - the find of the year. But do you take a chance on Rees in such a vital game where the winner takes it all?
England have little to lose, except the game, which seems to becoming a habit of theirs. Wales, on the otherhand, notoriously slow starters, harbour hopes of the Championship.
It should be a battle royal. Cymru am byth!
The enmity between the men of Cymru and the incomers, the Sais, goes back evermore in history, and is, I am delighted to say, as acute as ever.
This years' game has the added impetus given by the Lee Byrne controversy. So, ERC, it's OK for England to cheat at will, but not Wales? Thankfully justice has been done and we can expect to see Byrne trotting out with his team mates in the number 16 jersey shortly before the singing begins.
It should be a good match. Brian Moore has promised to observe 90 minutes silence in honour of Bill Mclaren, which should improve the commentary, and both teams have a point to prove, not least the English who in recent times have finally started to earn some the accolades they have been accused of over the years - boring, unimaginative, staid, pointless, well tryless anyway.
Team divot, sorry, pivot, Johmmy Wilko is primed to kick all day, just to prove that Matthew Tait is no good with the ball in hand, and up front 3 journeymen will compete with the best front row in the world.
Who would have thought it, Wales having the best front row in the world. I'll say it again, it has a nice ring to it. Wales having the best front row in the world. Whoops, time for a change of understrides.
It brings back memories of the great Poolers of the 70's; Charlie Faulkner, Graham Price and the other fellow, what was his name? Something to do with Germany? Ah yes, Bobby Windsor.
And now it's Jenkins, Jones and Rees - three finer Welshmen, and indeed Welsh names, you couldn't hope for. Uhoh, there goes another pair.
The genius of Ryan Jones at 8, the evergreen, well, ginger Williams at openside, and than a back line showing a dazzling array of talent, Lions to a man.....except! The one gaping hole is at scrum half. Cruelly shorn of Phillips, there is a chance to blood Richie Rees - the find of the year. But do you take a chance on Rees in such a vital game where the winner takes it all?
England have little to lose, except the game, which seems to becoming a habit of theirs. Wales, on the otherhand, notoriously slow starters, harbour hopes of the Championship.
It should be a battle royal. Cymru am byth!
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