Elmer Smith: A triple bogey for Tiger, PR team

THE NUMBERS ARE in.

Tiger Woods' act of contrition drew more viewers than the Winter Olympics and the war in Afghanistan combined.

And, yes, it was an act, even though Tiger is undoubtedly contrite.

How could he not be? His children will have to hear this for the rest of their lives. He is doomed to spend the most productive years of his career as the punchline to a running joke.

What kind of heathen would not feel some sincere remorse after inflicting this much pain on his family, friends and self?

But Friday's stage-managed mea culpa did more to damage what's left of his image than it did to satisfy the bloodlust of his growing legion of critics.

There he was on an international stage, the king of swing answering the musical question, "What can I say, Dear, after I've said I'm sorry?"

The correct answer is: Say nothing. Keep your mouth shut and your head down. Don't be caught on TV without a golf club in your hand.

Instead, Tiger chose option B: Wade wounded into the shark tank and hope the fish ain't bitin' today.

A scandal that almost rivals his serial philandering is the handsome fee Team Tiger paid some PR guru for this advice. You couldn't water a potted petunia with the raindrops from that brainstorm.

Did they really think people who heard him stumble through his prepared text would say he had atoned for his sins? Did they think the same pundits who were barred from the proceedings would convene later to scratch his name off their target list?

This may have been the most-boneheaded PR move since Sen. Gary Hart turned rumor into reality by daring the press to investigate his alleged dalliances.

A special nod to the genius who counseled him to handpick the reporters. It was like children who cover their eyes when they play hide-and- seek because they think you can't see them if they can't see you.

But we did see him. While he hid out for two months, every bimbo who ever came within putting range of him spilled her guts in graphic detail.

They told us how many, how often, how good. They told us where, when and what they did.

The only question left by the time he faced the nation Friday was: Why?

"I knew it was wrong," he said, "but I convinced myself that normal rules don't apply. I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to."

All that that painfully honest answer did was stoke the fire. By Saturday, dueling body-language experts interpreted every wink and wince to reveal whether the sum of his sweat beads equaled

real remorse.

He had hardly returned to the sex rehab before Playboy model Loredana Jolie Ferriolo was telling reporters that she is "outraged" that he didn't apologize to all his outside women.

"My life has changed drastically," she told reporters.

Really?

Expect her to file a classless-action suit on behalf of all Tiger's spurned sluts.

The only thing more artificial than the feigned outrage of his supposed "victims" is the stance of the golf writers who say they boycotted the press briefing on principle.

How much more would we know today if they had been allowed to ask questions? Aren't these the same golf scribes who didn't see a thing while Tiger spent the last five years banging every Barbie look-alike from Pine Valley to Pebble Beach?

We know what they would have asked: When will you return and rescue us from having to make silk purses out of the pig's ear that is golf without Tiger?

Tiger richly deserved his public flogging. He teed his butt up. He should expect us to hit it for distance.

I just think it would have been nice if those who defended the flag in the mountains of Pakistan and on the slopes of Vancouver got noticed.