A review of “The Swinger”

“The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.”

This boilerplate legalese is found on one of the front pages of The Swinger, a novel by the respected Sports Illustrated golf writers Michael Bamberger and Alan Shipnuck and published by Simon & Schuster and SI. Reading it, I’m thinking: yeah, right. The veteran writers have used the novel as a parallel universe to explore the astounding saga of the Tiger Woods sex scandal. The swinger here is Herbert X. Tremont, aka “Tree” Tremont, the world’s no. 1 golfer and a Titan of the entire sports world.

Overall, this is a quick, entertaining read, perfect for idle consumption on the beach or during a long air flight. Bamberger and Shipnuck know the golf industry and its key players inside and out. At first, I was skeptical about the whole pretense of the book: a novel as a means to delve into Tiger Woods’ cataclysmic fall from grace. But knowing how protective and insular the golf industry can be—and corporate damage control reigns supreme—the novel began to make more sense as I read the book. No way would current players and Tour officials and various parties ever go on the record for extensive questioning surrounding this epic scandal. Heck, Tiger and his camp have always been ruthless to nosy reporters. And it’s no surprise the secret life of Woods wasn’t exposed earlier. As noted in The Swinger by the book’s voice—former sportswriter turned Tree Corp. communications handler Josh Dutra—“…Nobody wanted to be first, at least not within the friendly confines of the golf world. Nobody wanted to be the person who took the cover off a great national myth.” And so, rumors were dismissed and never pursued at least inside the golf industry. It would take the relentless tabloid editors—electronic ones at the lead—to chase down all the juicy details.

The authors do an artful job of distilling the essence of their pre-scandal Tiger-like hero: “He really was one of a kind: polite assassin on the field, model citizen off it…I was watching the greatest athlete in the world at the height of his powers. It was mesmerizing for the casual golf fan. For the serious aficionado…it was intoxicating.” That pretty much sums up how most observers saw Tiger only two years ago. And in terms of trying to explain Tiger’s, er I mean, Tree’s kinky serial affairs in spite of a fetching Italian model wife, Belinda, a wily editor tells Dutra: “Dudes want a piece of strange.” Later, Tree further explains: “The thing about Belinda, she can’t give me what I need, but she’s the mother of my children. I can’t walk.”

There’s a lot of humor and deft satire in the book. I liked how the authors capture Tree’s Tour-speak following a post-round interview: “You know I drove it on a string today. I really controlled my traj with the irons.” And Tree’s agent, the nefarious Andrew Finkelman (or “Finky” as he’s devilishly nicknamed) is repeatedly skewered like a shish kabob. (Spartan fans, however, will claim foul reading Finky went to Law School at Michigan State University. But hey, it’s a novel.) I also relished how the Tree’s celebrated teacher, Norman Henley, is depicted especially in terms of his new instructional aid, the Power of Oneness: “…a giant hot-pink rubber band that stretched from the top of the golfer’s head to the bottom oh his feet, to promote ‘the sensation of monooneness.’”

The section of the book describing Tree’s extensive therapy sessions at Walden Pond Wellness Center at a secluded Mississippi location is well done. At WPWC, “everyone was trying to recover from some sort of addiction but the big three were LSD—lying, sex and drinking.” Led by a feisty counselor, Delores, Tree’s therapy sessions slowly shed light on his entitled persona and skillful deceits.

For those planning to read the book, I won’t reveal too many plot details other to say there are some pleasant differences from the endgame of Tiger’s scandal. But after reading it I wondered if in his darkest hour of his self-inflicted nightmare, Tiger ever resembled a gasping for air Tree, “overwhelmed with sadness for all that he had lost.”

If not, it’s a trag.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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