Woods’ mistake was to take too literally Accenture’s slogan ‘Go on, be a Tiger’.
With big business dropping Tiger Woods like a hot potato, one wonders if the world is reaffirming traditional morality. Or does adultery reduce a man’s hirsuteness and fornication quench his thirst? Otherwise, why would Gillette have second thoughts about its £12 million arrangement with the golfer, or PepsiCo develop cold feet about the £61.7 million deal that still has three years to go?
It would have been different if sexual over-exertion had cost Woods his manly facial hair so that his baby-smooth cheeks rejected the razor’s edge. The disclosure of a secret addiction to electric shavers so that, while willing to promote Gillette, he never touched its blades, creams or lotions, would have been even more disastrous. It might have forced Woods to turn to Philips or Braun.
That also applies to soft drink ads like Mohinder Singh Dhoni with a Pepsi bottle to his lips and a twinkle in his eye. Suppose the twinkle meant that between you and me, this is strictly for hoardings and the lolly — “Actually, I hate the stuff. I live on Coke!” PepsiCo’s subsidiary, Gatorade, which sponsored Woods, might then have justifiably withdrawn sponsorship. But no such dark secret tumbled out of the cupboard with the dozen or more porn stars and pancake waitresses.
This, surely, presented Gatorade-PepsiCo with the opportunity of a lifetime. Madison Avenue could go to town with dream ads showing Woods surrounded by a simpering harem saying, “It’s thirsty work!” Gillette, too, could have capitalised on the golfer’s exploits by recalling that old English saying about defining experiences that “give a man hair on his chest”. Imagine the caption: “Gillette removes the telltale evidence!”
Woods didn’t blot his sporting copybook like Gillette’s footballer protégé, Thierry Henry, who was caught cheating in France’s World Cup qualifier last month. Nor did he beautify himself to dazzle fans like football’s pin-up boy, David Beckham. He wasn’t even, so far as we know, guilty of the truancy that was the undoing of engaging young Georgie Best. Whatever moralists might scream, he hasn’t broken any law either — unlike a contemporary celebrity in another field, Jeffrey Archer.
More From This Section
Commentators are churning out all manner of psychological claptrap to explain his lifestyle. One diagnoses “Paradise Complex” which, apparently, means “subconscious self-loathing”. Another reads meaning in the name (Privacy) of the expensive private yacht in which he has taken refuge. A third speaks of his “self-destruct mission”, but attributes calculation to Woods’ choice of sex instead of drugs, alcohol, gambling or loss of form as the vehicle to perdition.
These flamboyant analyses make a refreshing contrast to earlier complaints that Woods was a “control freak” without human appeal. He was “robotic” and “eerily distant”. He was “boring with a capital B” according to the journal, Sports Illustrated. “He makes no waves, takes no stances. We get the feeling that money and winning are more important to him than anything” was another lament.
The golf superstar was a child prodigy whose ambitious pushy father brought him up on striving and sacrifice. But it was the media and business that blew him up into a legend. Living in golf-crazy Singapore when he took the world by storm, I read of “this fine specimen of Asian manhood” and wondered, looking at his pictures, what was so Asian about him. That claim was wishful thinking. The bigger illusion was the billion-dollar international icon that Nike, Accenture, AT&T and other global brands created for their own benefit. But it won Woods £12 million in prize money in 2006, and he was expected to earn more next year. His withdrawal from golf is estimated to cost him upwards of £100 million and the industry more than an awesome £300 million.
Having anointed Woods in 2006 with a £70 million deal, Nike is like the artist who painted the picture of Dorian Gray. It’s bravely standing by its man. But Gillette and PepsiCo are not alone in moving with the times. AT&T is “evaluating” the relationship, while Accenture, the business consultancy agency, feels Woods is “no longer the right representative”.
Therein lies the gulf between the real world and the fantasies whipped up by advertising and infotainment. Apparently, for all the Page Three romping, brand ambassadors must be conservative to be credible. Big business knows that it must sell to the sedate multitude, not only to a few dizzy sparks. Woods’ mistake was to take too literally Accenture’s slogan “Go on, be a Tiger!”, which was broadcast in 27 countries. He is being punished for forgetting that slogans aren’t life.