We didn't really have enough of them for a contest this year, but maybe we didn't need to. This column by my friend David Brooks (sorry, David, but the Dish has gotta do what the Dish has gotta do) is a near-classic of total wrongness (and I have, of course, been there myself):
As an adult, he is famously self-controlled. His press conferences are a string of carefully modulated banalities. His lifestyle is meticulously tidy. His style of play is actuarial. He calculates odds and avoids unnecessary risks like the accounting major he once planned on being. “I am, by nature, a control freak,” he once told John Garrity of Sports Illustrated, as Garrity resisted the temptation to reply, “You think?” …
The ancients were familiar with physical courage and the priests with moral courage, but in this over-communicated age when mortals feel perpetually addled, Woods is the symbol of mental willpower. He is, in addition, competitive, ruthless, unsatisfied by success and honest about his own failings. (Twice, he risked his career to retool his swing.)
It turns out he retooled his swing a few more time as well. But this blog stands in moral judgment of no one's sexual life. My own has been a cavalcade of wonder and weakness.
The Dish 