So there you go. Tiger Woods is sorry. Or so he says.
If we can sift through the 15 minutes where time stood still in sports bars around the country, if we can somehow ignore all of the "hostage crisis"-level coverage this is getting on CNN, ESPN, and the Oxygen Network, then we can all step back and see this for what it is -- one guy (a billionaire athlete, granted, but still...) who cheated multiple times on his wife (a blonde Swedish knockout, granted, but still....) and got caught.
Happens every day. I don't condone it at all, trust me. But as I sat there watching the enormity this had all taken on, thinking about Tiger Woods being treated in Mississippi for a month for an addiction to sex (and the millions of men wondering "Ok, so this is an addiction that I have?"), and now watching him apologize to a nation as though he had just detonated a nuclear warhead in the middle of Times Square, all I could think was "Is this all necessary?"
In the end, the only ones that truly require an apology are Elin and the kids. Tiger can apologize to his sponsors and his close friends if he wants, but he doesn't need to do that on national television. Call them all personally. Visit them. Hell, fly them to Florida on your private jet and tell them face to face how sorry you are, Tiger. (To be fair, maybe he has; I don't know, and really I don't care.)
The fact of the matter is your crime, Tiger, is being naive enough to think you wanted to (or needed to) get married. Because if your "sense of entitlement" had been brewing for that long, what purpose did marriage serve? In the end, if you have no wife and kids, none of this an issue. You save yourself a trip to Mississippi, and really all you become is Derek Jeter with community college-level admissions standards. That's all. (Which makes it all the more crazy that Jeter decided to turn in his bachelor card in the midst of watching Tiger flame out.)