Beyond Addiction

A prime spot to take the public's pulse is on a stool in a sports bar. Everybody's got opinions on everything, especially when bravado is bolstered by a couple of beers or when cheap wine softens inhibition.

Because I don't drink and I prefer to watch the Olympics or football at home, I avoid such places. So I find a haircut to be my best opportunity to gauge what people are thinking. It's a time and a place to sit still, close my eyes as if I'm dozing and just listen.

The other day, the chatter was "Tiger this" and "Tiger that," a cackle of opinion sparked by Tiger Woods' first public statement since he entered treatment for an apparent sexual addiction. To my surprise, nobody believed a word of what he said.

"Face it; the guy just likes women and thinks he can get away with it until he can't," proclaimed an elderly woman who was fighting off a petite gray bouffant with a big bowl of black hair dye that was the consistency of crude oil. "He can't come clean because he's so dirty, if you know what I mean."

A stylist a few chairs down chimed in with a crude joke with a punch line he didn't need to utter because it was not only inappropriate but also so obvious that everyone already had filled in the blank (if they hadn't heard it already). They laughed anyway.

Tiger's crucifixion caught me off guard. I live in a community that understands and embraces the value of redemption from addiction. St. Paul, Minn., is no city of saints. But I consider it the crossroads of recovery in America, a gathering place for thousands of people struggling to transform and sustain their lives on the long road back from the hell of alcoholism or drug dependence.

But in my town, people seem unwilling to give Tiger Woods the benefit of the doubt. My sense is that a lot of it has to do with his drug of choice. Among addictions, sex ranks right up there with food. People just don't believe what's good for you or so fundamental to humankind's existence can be that bad. I also suspect the public's intolerance for Woods is because of his remarkable success as an athlete, that million-dollar smile and a billion more in earnings, his beautiful family and, perhaps, the shade of his skin. Empathy doesn't come easy when the fall is from a place most people never reach.

Worse, I don't think people really listened to what Woods had to say. At the podium — in front of the cameras, his fans and, most of all, his friends and wife, Elin — Woods not only took responsibility for his problems but also acknowledged his road to recovery has only just begun.

"As Elin pointed out to me, my real apology to her will not come in the form of words; it will come from my behavior over time," Woods said.

I am not sure time heals all wounds. Often the scars sting or throb forever. What I know in my own life is that for people who have fallen under the potent spell of a substance greater than themselves — be it alcohol, money or sex — time is the gift that allows us to prove our actions really do speak louder than our words.

William Moyers is the vice president of foundation relations for the Hazelden Foundation and the author of "Broken," his best-selling memoirs, and "A New Day, A New Life." Please send your questions to William Moyers at wmoyers@hazelden.org. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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