A Tiger’s Tale…
I’m a journalist with all my heart. I love the profession and will participate in its excitement until my dying breath. I have covered entertainment and art, as well as non-profit activities. A little fluffy, right? Yes, and I like it that way. Not all journalists are hard-nosed, gotta-get-it-first types. Some of us do cover only the softer side of the news.
The gotta-get-it-first types do intrigue me however. Truth is, I would have loved to be one. The schedule doesn’t appeal to me though. I was a very young mother when I graduated from college, and I didn’t want to be on call. Making appointments and writing in-depth was more my style, and it worked for me.
I was a little sick on Friday when Tiger Woods had an accident outside his home. The first tweet from Breaking News On said that the situation was “serious,” and I was very worried about our “friend,” Tiger. I call him friend because he’s in our home almost daily. We watch his poise, his vigor and his sure will. We breathe his emotion on red-shirt Sunday, and we can only hope his health and his drive remain in tact so that we may watch him for years to come.
I texted my golfer Friday when I was tweeted, and of course, my husband called me from the golf course, demanding more information. I had none for about 30 minutes. Everyone at the golf course was worried sick, and the television was turned on immediately. People were glued to the set … and then we found out that Tiger was in fact no longer still in the hospital and had only minor injuries.
Are you kidding me?
It fascinates me as a journalist that people are ready to pounce on information. The one thing that I beg of my journalism students is that they check and recheck their sources. Waiting and getting it right is much better than jumping and misstating facts. Shame on the television and Internet media for jumping. Really, you couldn’t wait 30 minutes to get confirmation before scaring us all half-to-death?
Now, whether Tiger was hacked off with his wife for burning the cookies or she was clubbing through that back window because he was late again for dinner (been there, have definitely had thoughts of doing the same) is yet to be known. But really, if this is a domestic spat, haven’t we all stormed off in an argument and thought not-so-nice stuff about the “others” in our lives. I would hate for the world to know that I stumped my toe once while pitching a little hissy fit at Jake. Whoops, cat’s out of the bag.
I have much more important things to worry about than what Tiger was doing at 2:25 in the morning banging into a fire hydrant. A lot of us were up at that time of the morning on that particular day. I’m content with the thought that maybe Elin had sent him to line up at the Best Buy. It was Black Friday after all! Then, he got so frustrated at this crazy request that the accidentally hit the fire hydrant and the tree after his swing was for once too quick. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.