It’s hardly an original thought to say that we learn as much (or more) about heroes by how they handle adversity as how they handle success. And rarely have we been handed an opportunity to look at two such cases side-by-side as we were this week.
Tiger Woods emerged from months of seclusion and a media blackout to hold a televised gathering (without questions), expressing his remorse over the serial infidelity that tore apart his marriage, his image and his credibility. Viewers were treated to what Woods wanted to say, when he wanted to say it and how he wanted it presented.
No matter how sincere you might think it comes across, make no mistake: It was a programmed event with a rehearsed statement. Woods is young, and healthy, and adored by millions. There’s every chance he will be able to restore his stature, if not his marriage.
Also this week, film critic Roger Ebert was the subject of a gripping, deeply intimate profile in Esquire magazine that in no hidden terms discussed Ebert’s long battle with cancer and the operations that have robbed him of the ability to talk, eat and drink.
Instead, following more surgery to stop a relentless bloodletting, he was left without much of his mandible, his chin hanging loosely like a drawn curtain, and behind his chin there was a hole the size of a plum. He also underwent a tracheostomy, because there was still a risk that he could drown in his own blood.
Roger Ebert in Esquire magazine
Ebert’s strength, and that of his wife Chaz, come through in the piece. He is funny, angry, frustrated and still very interested in working. On his blog in reaction to the story, Ebert discusses his reasons for agreeing to exposing his condition.
I knew I’d have to play fair. I’ve done interviews for years. This was no time to get sensitive and ask for photo approval, or an advance look at the piece. I’d been the goose, and now it was my turn to be the gander. … I was a little surprised at the detail the article went into about the nature and extent of my wounds and the realities of my appearance, but what the hell. It was true. I didn’t need polite fictions.
Perhaps there’s a humility and humanity in those going through physical deterioration that allows them to take down the pretense. You think of Patrick Swayze, and Farrah Fawcett; of Arthur Ashe and former Bush White House spokesman Tony Snow. By removing the trappings of celebrity, they remind us (and, maybe, themselves) of the equanimity of life.
With luck, and time, perhaps Tiger Woods will shed those trappings as well.
