Riding the train from London to Liverpool, I’m filled with anticipation. Tomorrow is the first round of golf’s British Open – or, as they make a point of calling it here – just “The Open Championship.” It’s the final so-called “major” tournament of the year, the last chance for the 156 players teeing off to etch their name in golf history. With the exception of Tiger Woods, every player who has dominated the game of golf since I started paying attention will be teeing off.
As the pastoral settings streak by, I’m struck by the recognition that my love affair with the game is based in part on its rich history. Golf’s oldest major championship held its first tournament the year before Americans fought the Civil War. With few exceptions – world wars, a global pandemic, and one trophy design dispute – someone has been named the champion golfer of the year for over 160 years.
The quality of play today is no doubt better than it was in the 19th century, aided by new technology and training methods more rigorous than lifting a tumbler of whiskey. Network television, streaming services, corporate sponsorships, and social media have brought the tour’s personalities to life for us and made the players fabulously wealthy in the process. But the players and the game itself are standing on the shoulders of the golfing greats who went before them.
Jock Hutchinson made The Open a trans-Atlantic competition in 1921 by being the first American to win the tournament. But there was some gamesmanship in that claim: Hutchinson was born in St. Andrews and naturalized as a U.S. citizen only the year before. He won the trophy on the famous Old Course, where he’d played as a boy.
In that same tournament, American amateur phenomenon Bobby Jones took a double bogey on the 10th hole and three shots in the treacherous sand trap on No. 11 before infamously picking up his ball and tearing up his scorecard.
Golfers and golf fans were shocked, but it was a watershed moment for Jones, who decided to tame his temper. He succeeded and won over the crowds in Britain by returning again as a better man – and the world’s best golfer. He won The Open in 1926 and 1927 and again in 1930 – the latter two times on the Old Course. He captained the 1926 American team there in the Walker Cup as well and became a fan favorite. In 1958, Jones was made an “honorary freeman” of the town of St. Andrews, the first American to be so honored since Benjamin Franklin.
When he rose to speak to accept the honor, Jones left nary a dry eye in the house when he said, “I could take out of my life everything except my experiences at St. Andrews and I'd still have a rich, full life." As he left the stage, the audience spontaneously serenaded him with an old Scottish song, “Will Ye No' Come Back Again?”
He never did return and when he died in 1971, play was stopped on the Old Course.
But history never stops being made. By the 1960s, the decade I was born, The Open had become an afterthought to American golfers. The purses were too small, the travel too time-consuming, the weather too challenging. Arnold Palmer changed all that. Palmer finished second in the 1960 Open at the Old Course. Four strokes back with nine holes to play, Palmer went on one of his famous “charges” to come within a stroke of winning. He came back to win the Open in 1961 and 1962; moreover, he openly encouraged the best American players to do the same.
As the play gets started Thursday, new storylines abound. Will fan favorite Rory McIlroy continue his stellar play from the Scottish Open and breakthrough in a major for the first time in a decade? Will Jon Rahm and Scottie Scheffler showcase their sublime talents? Can charismatic Rickie Fowler’s California cool persona survive the windy conditions of the Royal Liverpool course? Will Cam Smith become the first back-to-back winner since Padraig Harrington twice lifted the Claret Jug 15 years ago?
Finally, will one of the LIV players steal the spotlight as Brooks Koepka did at the PGA Championship? That undercurrent has been present since 48 players defected from the PGA and DP World Tours to join the Saudi-sponsored LIV golf tournament. With last month’s announcement that a framework deal has been reached between the Saudis and the two respective tours, the golf world tries to figure out what it all means.
Many are still struggling with allowing the Saudi regime to take an ownership position in the tours. PGA Commissioner Jay Monahan’s actions are deeply troubling. He was simultaneously denigrating the Saudi regime, making common cause with the 9/11 families, and recruiting someone to be on his board who could make a secret deal with the Saudis. The obvious hypocrisy marred the PGA’s reputation. To what end?
Based on what’s been announced to date, the goal appears to be to allow the PGA commissioner and his anointed few to monetize his temporary stewardship of the centuries old game of golf into tens of millions or possibly hundreds of millions of dollars for himself. This will likely come at the expense of anyone who is not a part of the ownership group of the PGA’s new for-profit subsidiary.
Let me explain: In order for the equity of the new entity to have any value, it needs to have earnings. Earnings are the difference between revenues and expenses. So, to create earnings, either the revenues need to rise or expenses need to fall. If Commissioner Monahan has a way to raise revenues immediately and create those earnings, it raises the question: Why isn’t he doing that right now? The vast majority of the tour’s expenses are player purses and pensions. Cutting expenses to create earnings, therefore, will require cutting player compensation.
Maybe Jay Monahan is just planning on riding the natural growth in the game’s revenue to enrich himself and his fellow equity owners. In some senses, he’s already been the beneficiary of that very strategy. Consider this: From 2011 to 2021 the PGA Tour’s total revenue has risen from $972 million to $1.6 billion, or just over 63%. But total prize money has risen by only $140 million or roughly 31%. Monahan’s $14 million in total compensation, on the other hand, is up a whopping 88% over his predecessor’s 2011 compensation.
So, Monahan can manufacture earnings by continuing the strategy of allowing player purses to lag tour revenue increases. Yes, they’ll still make millions of dollars a year. Some of the players, like Monahan (the announced CEO of the new for-profit subsidiary), will also make outsized fortunes on their equity stakes. All this will come at the expense of future players and those who aren’t at the top of the game right now.
This, too, raises all sorts of uncomfortable questions. Even if this scheme is legal, is it right for the current commissioner and a handful of current players to effectively sell the game of professional golf that was built by their predecessors at the expense of future players? Is it consistent with the stated purpose of the PGA Tour “to promote the sport of golf and the common interests of touring golf professionals”? Is it right for a players’ association, effectively a union, to make these decisions without the vote of every touring professional, not just the player representatives and board members (who will undoubtedly participate in the equity grab)?
And what about the PGA Tour’s status as a tax-exempt nonprofit? When other nonprofits that are organized under code section 501(c)(3), such as hospital systems, sell to a for-profit entity, the proceeds are by law required to be contributed to a charity. How is it that the game of professional golf can effectively sell itself and use the proceeds to enrich individuals? This is despite code section 501(c)(6) explicitly requiring that no part of the net earnings inures to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual.
Which brings us back to the Saudis and their oil money. At the same time Monahan was criticizing Saudi Arabia’s human rights record (to create negotiating leverage, as it turns out), President Biden was begging the regime to pump more oil. Saudi companies have sponsored golf tournaments and golfers for years. But allowing the kingdom to essentially buy the ownership of professional golf puts them into business with every golfer and every sponsor of the game. That’s something many of them might reject as a bridge too far.
It’s not necessarily smooth sailing for Monahan and his band of profiteers. Players’ meetings continue to be tense. Many have openly said that trust has been destroyed. One board member has quit over his unwillingness to support the merger. I suspect longtime golf sponsors are rethinking their support of the game as they assess the damage to their brands.
As I get ready to get off the train in Liverpool to take in a piece of golf history, I can only hope that the players understand that they, like Commissioner Monahan, are merely temporary stewards of the game. Despite the decisions by others to allow greed to cloud their judgement or add nuance to their perspectives, the players don’t need to go along to get along. Collectively, they hold the future of the game in their hands.
They can stand together in defense of the game that has meant so much to so many over the past two centuries and simply say no.
