My Secret Plan to Save Tiger Woods

Plus: The things I think about True Blood, Entourage and DeSean Jackson

Tiger Woods golf game is a mess.

I’m not sure about his love life. For all I know, he still may be running through women like bags of M&M’s, or skulking around southern pancake houses, nursing cups of coffee and hash browns until he can pick up nicotine-stained waitresses after they’ve finished their shifts.

But he can’t hit a golf ball right now, and it’s all because his carefully constructed life has fallen apart. [SIGNUP]

See, Tiger was best when he had things organized, when he could live that life of entitlement that only the best athlete in his sport can. Two lives. One the dedicated family man with the pretty blonde wife at home who stayed out of the limelight and took care of the kids in the mansion. The other, the privileged guy who could have (and took) almost everything he could on the side. The perfectly created ultimate male! And with all that in sync, he could go to the golf course as a man whose life was underscored with the ultimate trappings of success — all he had to do was swing the club and rely on his natural talent to win golf tournaments.

Now he is a man apart.

While his wife Elin is digging into his ample pockets from her residence in Sweden, thousands of miles away, Tiger has become lost. He’s embarrassed. He’s awkward. He’s alone. He’s a loser. He no longer has a connect. Fans look at him now solely as a sympathetic curiosity. His swing coach has abandoned him. And the greatest golfer in the game? Well, his game is now just like mine. He sprays the ball all over the lot, missing more fairways than he hits. He knocks the ball from a troubled spot in the pine straw right into a greenside bunker. He suddenly putts with all the steadiness of a grandpa on the boardwalk.

And the only thing that’s going to save him is that Elin come back.

Yes, you read that right. I’m laying out a case for the estranged wife of Tiger Woods, the wife who was a victim of his incessant philandering, to forgive and try to forget. Elin, listen to that song by the Fray: “How to Save a Life.” We are witnesses right now to the meltdown of a golfer who was on his way to breaking every record in the book. Shouldn’t Elin care about that? I don’t want to turn into Dr. Phil here, because the only thing I care about here is not seeing an athlete waste his talent. But I wonder if it isn’t possible that Elin harken back to the time when she fell in love with Tiger, when everything was chocolate and roses. And while she’s at it, she might want to remember that the current riches in his life were a direct result of t his golf game, a game that is now failing him miserably. She needs to forgive and forget and come to the rescue of a man who needs it.

Can’t you hear the harps playing as Elin taps into her soul of compassion and makes her way to Whistling Straits in Wisconsin, sight of the PGA Championship. Here’s Tiger, scuffling on the putting green, then making his way to tee box number one, head down, negative thoughts entering his brain like thunderbolts. All of a sudden, the crowd parts and leaves a walking lane. And here comes Elin and the kids. They reach the ropes just as Tiger puts his tee in the earth. He looks up. He sees them. He brightens. His life has come back to him. He hits a low rising smash right down the middle, 320 yards in the fairway. Elin and the kids follow. He birdies one and two and three. He wins the PGA! He’s back. He and Elin return to the mansion in Jupiter, Florida to live happily ever after. Tiger goes on to eclipse Jack Nicklaus’ record for major championships. He goes on Oprah. Their story turns into a made for TV movie on Lifetime. I write the screenplay.

Ah, never mind.

* So Todd Herremans gets in trouble for Tweeting his thoughts on the HBO series “True Blood,” resenting its plot line delving into homosexuality. I don’t know about all that. I just think that, after a really promising first season, the show sucks now. I have no idea what the hell is going on, or who’s sucking blood from whom.

* And speaking of HBO series, “Entourage” is WAY limping towards its finish as a show. This new plot line about Vincent Chase hooking up with a porn star? I thought the cute little girl next door type he’s involved with was merely an actress PLAYING the part of a porn star named Sasha Grey. So the credits roll and I see the name “Sasha Grey.” Huh? So I Google her name and it turns out she’s a real porn star, and, to boot, this little minx apparently is one of the dirtiest porner out there! Can somebody send a brother a DVD?

* I said it on my show on Tuesday: some of you fans are ingrates as it involves the DeSean Jackson story, crowing about the fact that the Eagles wide receiver isn’t talking to the media. Let me ask you knuckleheads a question: who loses when a player doesn’t talk to the media? It ain’t the media. You’re the ones not getting the information. Fans who believe that DeSean Jackson isn’t talking to the media because he doesn’t want to talk about his contract are SO naïve. What is the guy a 12-year-old? If he doesn’t want to address his contract situation, he can merely say something like, “Well, I really don’t want to say anything about my contract, but I’m hopeful that down the road it’ll get worked out.” And then he can talk about other stuff and let the fans in on his world. The reason DeSean Jackson isn’t talking to the media is because it’s part of his entitlement. He does it because he can. The kid is a player, but I worry about him turning into the classic diva before he’s actually earned the right to be the classic diva. Far as I can tell, he got punked in those last two games last year against Dallas.