The Front Row with Tim Dahlberg November 22, 2010
The early reviews are in, and they're not terribly kind.
But what do you expect when Tiger Woods finally bares his soul and we find out he doesn't seem to have one?
The campaign to deliver the world a new, improved Tiger began this week just as all those nasty reminders of what happened a year ago in Florida were about to appear. His public rehabilitation is now officially under way, surely to be followed at some point by some cutesy Nike ads that will enlighten us even further.
Op-ed piece in Newsweek. Radio interview on ESPN. Even a couple of tweets.
And not a clue that Woods even begins to get it at all.
The most miserable year he 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.
Instead he's trying to sell himself to the world in the same calculating way he once sold Nike's golf equipment.
Except this time it won't work.
"People perceive him to be a complete fraud," said Ronn Torossian, president of 5W Public Relations in New York. "Making a mistake in your personal life is one thing, but being seen as a complete insincere and fraudulent person is quite another."
So what did we learn from Woods in his first attempt to sell himself to us as a new man? Well, he loves his children, is sorry he hurt people close to him, wants to be a good golfer once again, and thinks his fans are just awesome.
Oh, and he's the founder of a foundation that is helping America's youth. He's had a part in educating 10 million youngsters, if you believe some wildly inflated numbers.
The most important message delivered from the playbook, though, was that he's a much better person than ever before.
"If that (the accident) didn't happen I don't think I'd be as blessed or as balanced as I am now," Woods said.
Please. Save it for the Nike ad.
Tim Dahlberg is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at firstname.lastname@example.org.