A strange thing happened to me an hour ago. I was strolling down the Yarra river in Melbourne killing time before I had to go to the airport when, all of a sudden, a helicopter hovered deafeningly over me.

It landed on the floating helipad on the river. I noticed three people in suits waiting for the chopper. There were also two women hiding behind a tree, in great excitement.

When the helicopter came to a stop, out came a man shouldering a bag of golf clubs. There followed another person, with a cap and trademark gloves in his back pocket.

Further away was a guy with a large video camera with a tripod.

Who was this guy flying in?

It was none other than Tiger Woods!

He strolled across Kings Bridge towards the Crown Casino. The two women tried to follow him but were told to keep away.

Wow, Tiger Woods!

I was there to see him at the right place at the right time.

But, as soon as I started thinking about it, the excitement ended.

Because isn’t Tiger Woods just a guy? I asked. A living breathing human, like you and I? Sure he’s good at hitting a white ball with a metal stick. But so what?

This is the cult of the celebrity.

He’s famous and so he becomes hugely important. It is a strangely irrational thing.

Why are we drawn to fame? What’s the big deal? Why are we intoxicated by it?

Maybe it’s just sour grapes on my part.

(I really should stop all this thinking)

He didn’t give me an autograph either 🙂

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