By Paul Hayward
Tiger Woods was pulled over on a road called Military Trail, appropriately for a man who went on the trail of a fantasy life as a US Navy SEAL - one of many acting jobs he has filled in his golf career.
One thing we knew already was that distressed people do stupid and dangerous things, not least in middle age, when the old certainties evaporate. But normal was never part of Woods's vocabulary, which is where his problems seem to be rooted.
His statement following his arrest at 3am on Monday (local time) on a DUI (driving under the influence) charge did what statements from busted celebrities often do. It piled contrition on to a confusing explanation in ways that only raise more questions.
If "alcohol was not involved", as he claims, and the police report appears to corroborate, what was he apologising for? He says "an unexpected reaction to prescribed medications", which has landed him with a DUI for an offence other than drink-driving, and a "citation" for improper parking, which he was already doing when officers approached, according to the Golf Channel (his arraignment is set for July 5).
American icon: Tiger Woods.Credit: AP
Whatever Woods was up to, he is acutely regretful. "I would like to apologise with all my heart to my family, friends and the fans. I expect more from myself, too," he wrote. "I will do everything in my power to ensure this never happens again."
In his pomp, and in his slide, Woods has maintained a series of roles, some foisted on him by his late father (including the one of invincible golf warrior) and by commercial expectations, others of his own creation.
His interactions with the world have been shaped by precocity, prodigious success, colossal commercial worth and now by the denial of obvious medical reality, which is that his viability as a top golfer has been destroyed by four back operations in three years, along with serious knee trouble.
That career will not be revived by hollow proclamations on his website, such as this one after his latest surgery, in April: "All I can do is take it day by day. There's no hurry. But, I want to say unequivocally, I want to play professional golf again."
These announcements fly in the face of the long-term damage to his body, and are no doubt intended to wring the last juice from his commercial tie-ups. But even he must doubt their validity. The words lead back to a long pattern of pretending. In his time, Woods has acted as the grateful recipient of white patronage in Country Club America, the wholesome family man when he was playing the field spectacularly, a wannabe US Navy SEAL obsessed with emulating his father's military career, and now a striver against serial injury vowing to return to the sporting heights he once occupied.
There was always a manufactured feel to this movie, but that choreography was easy to overlook when he was ripping up the Augusta National course, dazzling British crowds at the Open and running up 14 major tournament wins. In his closed world, with its Nike-clad goons, he was at least locked on to the idea of sporting brilliance, of domination, in a way that globalised a game hardly renowned for ethnic diversity. Golf was blessed by his presence.
This control-freakery was fine so long as Woods was winning; yet the character trapped inside that play has turned out to be a lot more normal - more human - than the sweetly declining-elder-statesman script would allow.
If American golf could write his ending, it would be as the next Nicklaus or Arnold Palmer: a Ryder Cup captain and course designer who went round the circuit burnishing his own legend in ways the plutocrats could relate to.
This version would certainly not have him pitching up in a police mugshot looking a bit messed up. Here, the Downfall Industry was quick out of the blocks, turning an event that is sadly common on America's roads into evidence of impending personal catastrophe. An alternative strategy for Woods might have been to say: "I had a big night out and did something wrong. I'm sorry." But his instinct for news management, his need to be seen still as the shiny star, led him to write (or sign-off) a grovelling statement.
Woods has stuck to the acting jobs since that filmic Thanksgiving day in 2009 when he was knocked unconscious after driving into a fire hydrant outside his home, and was pulled from his SUV by his then wife, Elin Nordegren, who had smashed the window with a golf club. What followed was an excruciating mea culpa and treatment for "sex addiction".
The local Sun-Sentinel newspaper reported: "Investigators suspected Woods was under the influence when he crashed but an attempt to collect 'medical blood results' was denied by state prosecutors because of 'insufficient information'. Florida Highway Patrol did not pursue a criminal case and Woods was ticketed for careless driving, fined $164 and received four points against his licence."
Men are from Mars, Tiger Woods is from Jupiter, a Floridian fortress of fame voted the ninth Happiest Seaside Town in America by an organisation called Coastal Living. There, he will have to deal with this latest furore while missing the rest of the season and avoiding strenuous activity for months. "I haven't felt this good in years," he claimed.
Against the backdrop of constant pain, and interruptions to his career - plus the turmoil in his personal life - you can quite see why he might go off the rails. Since his first back operation in 2014, he has played only 19 events, with one top-10 finish. His last major was the 2008 US Open.
His obsession has been ripped away from him. His vocation is turning to dust.
In a seminal ESPN profile of Woods, Michael Jordan, basketball's all-time No 1, told the author Wright Thompson: "The thing is, I love him so much that I can't tell him, 'You're not gonna be great again'."
In the Celebocracy, there is a tradition of falling stars being driven into isolation, in mansions, while a cruel world waits outside for news of further unravelling. Thompson noted that Woods had two boats, Privacy and Solitude. Wishful thinking, twice.
He will not be short of free advice from amateur psychologists, so to lecture is not the intention.
But tracking his career, and seeing some of it close up, prompts the thought that Woods has been acting in his own biopic for too long, and might find it liberating to let go of his old life as American icon and corporate god. That life is certainly now letting go of him.
The Telegraph, London