The new Nike ad featuring Tiger Woods calls out his personal problems and includes audio of his deceased father.
The new Nike ad featuring Tiger Woods calls out his personal problems and includes audio of his deceased father. Nike Golf
Brian Unger is a writer, satirist and actor. He helped launch The Daily Show and is a regular contributor to NPR.
Hey Tiger. You ruined my morning, again.
See, I don't have to look at your face first thing in the morning, because I'm not dating you. But when I hunger for news with pictures — say, glimpses of a revolution in a faraway land, or word of a nuclear treaty — there you are. Please, get out of my bed.
And then you followed me downstairs. Before I could grind the coffee beans, before I could put kibble in my dog's bowl, you broke into my brain with your weepy, sniveling image courtesy of Nike.
You probably got pancakes for breakfast. Guess what my dog and I ate? A swoosh. I saw it more as a check mark. Image laundering commenced, CHECK! Endorsement deal back on, CHECK! Man not so into monogamy, CHECK! Hey, there he is again, America's most popular pouter, brought to you by the media industrial complex that built him up, tore him down and is rebuilding what they tore down.
You're becoming a nuclear threat, Tiger, whose half-life exceeds uranium.
Courtesy of Brian Unger
Brian Unger wishes Nike would focus on selling shoes instead of redemption.
This austere Nike ad isn't controversial; it's kind of pathetic and dark: the ghostly voice of your departed dad, your ambiguous stare asking me for, what, forgiveness? Hey, I'm not your Moses. I need coffee.
At the very least, Nike, sell me shoes. Not a comeback. Here's a one-man focus group, Nike, free of charge: Shoes make me run faster. Tiger Woods makes me run away from Nike.
Mr. Woods, you're like Sarah Palin at a Tea Party rally. I can't turn you off. I can't get you out my life. You don't need therapy. You need government regulation, the FCC to limit your bandwidth, only after fining news organizations for their laziness and malpractice.
Because when you do something other than just play golf, you hijack the national conversation for no constructive purpose, begging America to love you. Dude, it makes me feel creepy. I'm not your wife. Go beg her to love you. Quietly, privately, on a tropical island you forgot you owned. Just anywhere but in my bedroom.