Man, I got the devil in me. I’m draggin’ the audience to hell with me. I’m a sinner. I know it. Soon I’m gonna have to reckon with the chillin’ hands of death.
Jerry Lee Lewis
There are suggestions that to anchor whatever rehabilitation process he embarks on, Tiger Woods should latch onto a “spiritual advisor.” A relationship along the lines of Michael Vick and Tony Dungy.
A far more productive and fascinating choice than Dungy would be Jerry Lee Lewis.
No other celebrity has endured this caliber of fall from grace. When it comes to womanizing, the Killer has left behind a remarkable legacy. Tiger could do worse than to seek solace and perspective from an icon whose portfolio of personal problems has taken on such legendary trappings. Tiger and the Killer may have more in common than simple perdition.
Redemption is a journey and the most productive route for Tiger leads through Nesbit, Mississippi.
A bigamist at the age seventeen, Jerry Lee abandoned the Southwestern Assemblies of God University in Waxahacie Texas knowing he was damned, doomed to set the bar for celebrity scandal.
Celebrity was cut from a different cultural cloth fifty-two years ago when Jerry Lee was riding high. “Whole Lot of Shakin” and “Great Balls of Fire” were records so popular, so groundbreaking, so mysterious and intoxicating, his music so exultant that Jerry Lee was to rock and roll what Tiger has been to golf. Elvis was just putting on his army uniform and here was the heir apparent.
Jerry Lee’s sinful fires of first tier stardom burned for less than a year. When the British press reported the quiet marriage to Myra Gale Brown, his 13 year-old first cousin, the caper was up. Gone were appearances on programs such as “The Steve Allen Show.” Dick Clark blew him off. Sun Records said goodbye. The live venues shrunk and so did the paychecks.
What remained was scandal, song and sin tainted by more than a touch of sadness. Jerry Lee somehow morphed into a country star, then back to rock and roll icon, along the way creating dozens of high-charting singles and albums. He has been awarded ten gold records, most recently in 2006, and was one of the early inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
He is revered, which may hold some clues to the future of Tiger Woods.
Jerry Lee Lewis has shot his bass player in the chest. He has been arrested outside Graceland for waving a gun and demanding to see Elvis. He has been savaged by the IRS. Two of his children have died. In 1983, his 78-day marriage to a cocktail waitress from Michigan came to an end when she died from a methadone overdose.
The Killer has never been known for offstage charm and benevolence, although he did call a friend of mine who was on the air in Memphis one night and thanked him for playing a requested record.
“God bless you, son,” intoned the Killer.
These are strange times. Perhaps these two tormented men can find some common ground, and Tiger can visit Jerry Lee, who is home for the holidays at the ranch in Nesbit, Mississippi.
There may be no other living American who has stared into the night and seen the kind of darkness Jerry Lee Lewis has seen.
When the Killer promises Tiger that shame can be replaced by an acceptance of sin, when he reminds Tiger that the devil has lured him through five self-destructive decades of decadence and despair and has dumped him out deified at the age of 74, in front of an adoring public, what can Tiger do but get in the Escalade and roar up I55 to the Perkins on Poplar Avenue in Memphis?
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Jerry Lewis was not the Tiger Woods of Rock ‘N Roll, Elvis was. Tiger is the Beatles AND the Elvis of golf.
However, you are correct, I believe, in suggesting that Tiger will return to the pedestal and pinnacle of golf and be a hero to his fans.
If you think he was motivated to prove he was the best before, think what he will like when he returns to the links — more serious, more determined, more intense.
I think the biggest thing he did wrong is not deal with professionals who can keep their mouths shut.