The recent news about Tiger Woods and his 2:30 a.m. car crash caught my attention, as I’m sure it also caught Tiger’s attention.
Now, I don’t have a clue what really happened. Using my well honed legal skills, I strongly suspect Tiger’s wife strongly suspected Tiger was teeing up on the wrong ... well, let me just say running around. Tiger, like any man facing an angry wife at 2:30 a.m. jumped in his car, speeding away, all the while looking back as his wife show cased the proper grip for an eight-iron, presumably using a Nike. After all, he’d violate his multi-million-dollar endorsement contract if he used any other brand.
Of course, I could be wrong. Tiger may have simply been headed to the 7-11 to get a loaf of bread and forgot a fire hydrant and large tree were beside his driveway.
For some reason, all this hoopla made me think about the stupid reality shows, “Real Housewives of Atlanta,” “New Jersey” and “Orange County.” Who needs those bunch of botox, silicone, hair extended fakes? What television needs is real reality. I say they need “Real Housewives of Hahira, Ga.” or “Real Housewives of Adel, Baby.”
I’ll tell you one thing: If you did have “Real Housewives of Hahira,” and Tiger married one, he wouldn’t now be explaining an eight-iron to the back windshield. He’d be trying to explain a 12 gauge to the windshield, and she’d be busy making two calls, neither of which would be to the EMTs. One would be to the undertaker in case she aimed true. The second would be to her divorce lawyer in case she missed.
A good ol’ south Georgia housewife will throw a bona fide conniption fit if Sally Mae at the hair salon says her man was talking to another woman at the post office. If you end up on the front page of the National Enquirer for fooling around, you may as well enter the Witness Protection Program.
After she got through with Tiger, folks would start calling him Kitty.
Then, just for good measure, she’d go sleep with Phil Mickelson, text him how he’d never be as good as Phil, drain his bank account, change the locks on the doors,and give his green jackets to the Salvation Army. While he was walking around the neighborhood, locked out of the house, he’d probably see several winos, all around a trash can fire, drinking his $200 bottles of scotch, wearing green jackets.
Next thing you know, she’d be on “Oprah” and the “View” and be posting pictures of her and Charlie Sheen on Facebook. She’d probably even hook up the double-wide with a garden tub and pull it behind her daddy’s house.
But behind all that furor, the “Real Housewives of Hahira” have a soft forgiving spot. After a few weeks, I’m sure Tiger would be back in good graces, just as soon as Betty Sue got a new 10-carat diamond ring, yacht, leer jet, house titled in her name and a chance for everyone to play next year in the Betty Sue Wood’s Buick Invitational.
Tiger, I hope it ain’t so. But, if it is, at least you are not married to the “Real Housewives of Hahira.”

Contact columnist T. Gamble at t@colliergamble.com.