This time of year is one of my favorites, as pitchers and catchers report to spring training. I’m particularly thrilled since the New York Yankees report to spring training as the defending World Series champions. But one year ago things weren’t so bright for the Bronx Bombers as the team’s starting third-baseman, Alex Rodriguez, was mired in a steroids controversy. A-Rod was accused of using steroids from 2001-2004, and there was enough evidence to suggest the accusations were correct.
By 2009, the steroids issue in Major League Baseball (MLB) had lost some of its appeal. It was becoming apparent that no one in the league during the 1990s was above suspicion, but perhaps more compelling was that fans didn’t seem to care. Perhaps fans had long-ago accepted what MLB hadn’t? Regardless, A-Rod admitted to using steroids and apologized for his transgressions. While fans weren’t exactly eager to welcome the 3-time league MVP back, he was able to reclaim some of the glory he’d enjoyed and, by the end of the post-season, had at least redeemed himself among Yankee-faithful.
How was such a divisive athlete able to reclaim some of that trust despite an admission of cheating?
To answer this, let’s look at another example from baseball. Recently, Mark McGwire, former first-baseman and now the hitting coach for the St. Louis Cardinals, admitted to using steroids when he set the then-record for most home runs in a single season. McGwire was viewed with much skepticism and many saw his apology, particularly his timing, as simply opportunistic (McGwire was returning to baseball for the first time since retiring).
Bob Klapisch asked over at FoxSports.com: why was A-Rod let off the hook but McGwire was not?
As Klapisch sees it, and I agree:
“[A-Rod] appeared to be more honest than McGwire in revealing the detail of his cheating. While A-Rod may have fudged some details, he at least provided the name of a complicit family member, as well as the exact time frame of his cheating.”
Klapisch goes into more, including arguing (correctly) that on-field success can make public acceptance much easier (which A-Rod did experience), but the point remains: A-Rod appeared more honest and contrite.
If only Tiger Woods had paid attention.
Tiger’s response to his recent troubles stands in stark contrast to A-Rod’s admission and provides a great example of how not to handle public admissions/apologies.
Before we get too far, let me say this: A-Rod owed all involved an apology because he cheated the game; Tiger owed no one but his family, particularly his wife, an apology. He didn’t cheat the game, he cheated on his wife. His public apology was a wasted effort.
But since he made the apology, it’s worth dissecting.
In Tiger we have the perfect example of an athlete groomed to succeed in a highly publicized world. His father intended just as much when he set out to make him “bigger than Jesus.” If there’s one thing Tiger is known for (and there are many), it’s his ability to focus and take absolute control of his situation. We’ve seen other athletes show similar abilities, yet none have seemed as “in control” as Tiger.
But in becoming an athlete with such control over every situation, Tiger created his ultimate undoing. We operate in a 24-hour news cycle spurned-on by avid bloggers and instant media. We demand — expect — to know everything about everyone, for better or for worse. And it seems we push hardest against those for whom protecting that information is their number one priority.
For Tiger, his need to control information worked against him. He failed to allow us to learn about him, to become familiar with him, to accept him as something more than an athlete. As a result, we pushed harder once the cracks were revealed. It’s fair to say we acted like sharks tasting blood for the first time.
So when Tiger’s troubles surfaced and he later felt the need to apologize, the worst apology he could make was exactly the one he made. He appeared stilted, robotic and unfeeling. His speech was rehearsed — he even read the words, “Good Morning.” His body language was distant, his words lacked fluidity, and his presentation, as Stephen A. Smith wrote:
“[R]eeked of someone desperately trying to salvage whatever was left of his stained image.”
It’s easy to say A-Rod and McGwire were attempting to do the same — that is, salvage whatever was left of their image — but both appeared to have more feelings. They regained trust by appearing honest and contrite. Tiger’s prepared remarks before a staged audience, however, afforded him no trust with viewers.
To regain that trust, Tiger should have appeared before any reporters who could make the time (I think it’s safe to assume there wouldn’t have been room to stand). He should have prepared an opening sentence or two thanking everyone for being there, but then opened it up for questions and answered them honestly and openly. Only then could he have changed his public persona.
But that’s not what Tiger wanted. As Bill Simmons’ wrote in his take on the Tiger speech, “When you become famous too early, you don’t have to win over anyone. You just have to exist.”
So maybe the only way for Tiger to alter (again) his public persona is to play golf again — to exist as he’s always done. As noted earlier, on-field excellence can have a powerful effect on memories and perceptions. But that won’t be all that’s needed. No, Tiger cannot exist as he’s always had. He needs to take a page from A-Rod and McGwire and accept that questions will be asked, further accusations hurled, and his role is to simply field them as they come, openly and honestly.
Just made it under 1,000 words. Thanks for hanging in there.
