FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — Who’s next?

Whose life do we watch reduced to rubble now?
We’re done with Tiger Woods. He sucked the fun from the gossip by confessing to his “sins” and “transgressions” on his Web site Wednesday.
OK, we’re not quite done with him — and this goes beyond the “Wanna Get Away?” commercial offer coming from Southwest Airlines. There’s also the final step to be performed in the 12-step humiliation today’s world demands: tears. Full, genuine, on-camera tears.
We might not get them for Christmas, considering Tiger is busy traveling on his knees to Sweden to find his wife. But soon he’ll sit down with a sympathetic interviewer (Jim Nantz? Steve Phillips?) and address to the world what should be only his family’s business.
Oh, the issue isn’t whether the world should be allowed to look inside Tiger’s bedroom window. That’s irrelevent in the Internet age. Everyone looks. Everyone clicks their mouse and calls their friends for the same reason you rubberneck at a traffic accident or watch the neighbors fight.
It’s open season on personal turmoil today. Ten years ago, the big question involving privacy was having a listed or unlisted phone number. Now, it’s whether to leave a phone-mail message that the entire world might hear.
Look at the sex lives on parade of late. ESPN announcer Phillips’ family is hounded by his lover. Louisville coach Rick Pitino had sex in a restaurant. Steve McNair. Alex Rodriguez. On and on.
Tiger’s affair was just bigger because he’s the biggest athlete out there. From the strange early-morning traffic accident outside his home to the stonewalling of police to that desperate voicemail left on the L.A. cocktail waitress’ phone (”Hey, it’s Tiger, I’ve got a huge favor to ask”) right through the website confession, this was a story you couldn’t turn away from, even if you knew you should.
The funny part was listening to mainstream media explaining how it actually was newsworthy. Police involvement. Possible domestic violence. Then there was the old fallback that because Tiger is worth $1 billion thanks to a carefully crafted image, no part of his life is off limits.
Just because the Tiger pitches Buick doesn’t mean you should be allowed to ride in his Buick and peek inside his marriage. It means he’s being paid a lot of money to sell a Buick. That’s it. Grow up.
The reason Tiger’s story was followed so closely is why Jerry Springer gets ratings, the mentality behind Balloon Boy and this deep need for Meredith Baxter to go on national TV and say she’s gay. (Yeah, so?)
There is nothing honorable or newsworthy about Tiger this past week other than he skipped out on his charity event because of the furor. And no one cared about that.
Nor did anyone really care that he was unfaithful. Come on, you’re not really going to play that game. You’re not really going to judge or condemn someone you don’t know from a thousand miles away, are you?
I’m going to ask my wife to leave the room for this next sentence: The percentage of men who don’t do what Tiger did in some manner given his status and the temptation it affords is small. And half of them are lying.
No, the reason this became a story is that everything is a story now. Privacy is only a name on Tiger’s boat.
The world moves as fast as your Internet connection allows. So we’ve gone from knowing nothing about Tiger Woods’ private life a week ago to knowing far too much today. At least I have.
In his statement, Tiger said he has “let my family down,” “not been true to my values” and is “dealing with my behavior and personal failings behind closed doors.”
Then he said: “Personal sins should not require press releases and problems within a family shouldn’t have to mean public confessions.”
Who can’t agree with that? Yet who didn’t follow this story?
Here’s the good news: We’re used to indiscretions. Kobe Bryant and Ray Lewis had far worse charges against them and all was forgiven.
Beyond the personal embarrassment and public giggle factor, the world will move on quickly. His first tournament back, there will be a standing ovation for him, the kind that’s become routine for athletes returning from something sordid, even if no one knows quite why they’re applauding.
Of course, by that time, everyone will have moved on to someone else, with some other seamy story.