An Open Letter to Elin Woods . . .

Oh, girl, what a mess you find yourself in.

I don’t have all the facts, but here’s what I think happened. You met a handsome, charming, very wealthy and very famous athlete, and he asked you out. For some reason, you turned him down at first. He continued to pursue you, and the whole world started screaming in your ear: Are you crazy? He’s Tiger-freakin’-Woods, the greatest golfer of all time!”

You couldn’t put a label on it, that feeling that something wasn’t quite right, so you ignored your gut and went out with him. And then, when he asked you to marry him, you asked him, probably over and over, what it was – that something – that was making you hesitate.

“I’m the greatest golfer of all time, quite possibly, and I’m handsome and charming and fabulously wealthy, and perfect. Nothing is wrong, sweetheart,” he said. “Now please marry me.”

So you married him and had two children with him, all the time thinking how silly you were to doubt him. Anyway, since you loved him so much, your love could fix everything. But still, something was bothering you.

And then there was a rumor. Or maybe two. But he laughed it off, saying that people always want to take down greatness. He probably said, “People are always looking for dirt. It’s a tabloid world, and we’re famous. Ignore them. Just keep being gorgeous and fabulous, but don’t ever mention to anyone that something is bothering you. Keep your mouth shut and your makeup on at all times.”

So you did. You ignored the rumors and the feeling that something was wrong. Until the day you found out the truth and couldn’t ignore it any longer: Tiger is a bad apple. And all your hoping and wishing and praying and loving couldn’t make him a peach.

A few years ago, my sister and her husband noticed that one of their toilets wasn’t working properly. Sometimes it flushed, and sometimes it didn’t. Their children were young and newly potty trained, so the possibilities were endless. The Barbie doll torso on the floor of Faith’s closet? Her head and lower extremities could have been the potty clogger. Hell, it could have been anything, perhaps even the puppy who had “run away.”

Kevin used a plunger. He used a pipe snake. Every time, the problem would resolve itself for a day or so, but in the end it always came back. This went on for weeks: the toilet worked sometimes, but just as often, it was clogged horribly. Finally, he took the entire toilet out of the bathroom, turned it upside down, took it apart somehow, and found the culprit -- an apple with several bites out of it. A child had apparently been eating an apple on the potty, dropped it, probably shrugged, and flushed.

See, dear Elin, an apple is the most natural thing in the world, a nearly perfect food. But in some circumstances, it’s a huge problem. Tiger may be the greatest golfer in the world, but being a great athlete has never made anyone a good spouse or even a good person.

I’ve learned not to ignore that gut feeling that something isn’t quite right about a person or a situation. I believe it’s God’s way of telling you to walk away, or at the very least, go beneath the surface and dig deep until you discover what’s making you uneasy. Quite often, the cause of your uneasiness is that a person is not what they claim to be. It’s a lack of integrity that’s at the core of every bad apple and also what, according to the proverb, “spoils the whole bunch.”

But you already ignored that nagging little voice, and you know what I’m saying is true. How does that help you now? You’re probably hoping to save the marriage for the sake of your kids. You want to give him a chance to turn things around. I hate to say it, but all the expensive rehab in the world isn’t going to coax an apple out of a toilet or reverse the damage that has already been done to your marriage. And please pardon the obvious pun, but a Tiger never changes his stripes. Despite what he and his therapists are telling you, I’m betting that your gut is still telling you that things aren’t right.

And although I’ve learned not to ignore the feeling that all is not right, I’m still not sure what the proper term is for it.

I just call it a “crapple.”