For all the fanfare and in-fighting, the London cabs taking players to tee off and the comic-book team names, not to mention the ludicrous sums of money involved in the LIV series, in the end, this is still just golf.
Sergio Garcia was hacking the ball out of the woods, bristling with his usual Latin anger, while Phil Mickelson unleashed great divots of grass out of the Centurion rough as he scrambled his way into contention. Plus ca change.
And people were there to see it, the no-show some predicted failing to materialise, although that was in some way negated by locals being given free tickets to attend or else an online give-away of 100 tickets by each player. And yet organisers, who would not reveal how many were paying to come through the turnstiles, say tomorrow’s final day is already a sell-out.
Selling out has been a theme of the week — an accusation levelled at the 48 players in the field, of chasing the money and being pawns in Saudi Arabia’s latest sportswashing project. Shortly before play began yesterday, a crib-sheet emerged, given to the players advising them what to say under titles such as ‘Money Grab’. It was the same messages pushed out in the preceding 48 hours: the chance to grow the game of golf, the opportunity for me and my family.
Some families were in attendance, Martin Kaymer’s partner Irene pushing along the couple’s baby son in a buggy as the German made his way around the course. Kaymer was among the former world No1s in the field, so too Mickelson, golf’s supposed renaissance man. Since calling the Saudis “scary mother*******”, his dark moments of introspection — and growth — had involved skiing in Montana and hiking in Sedona.
He emerged on the first tee for his first competitive golf shot with heavy stubble and the sort of sunglasses not out of place on an ageing pilot past his prime in the Top Gun follow-up, Maverick. In the build-up, he tried his best to talk around the critics. And there was warmth towards him on the course. “Come on, Phil,” they cried. Those in attendance seemed to care little for any sportswashing suggestions and the very well-documented ills of the Saudi regime.
At the end of day one, it was not quite the leaderboard the organisers might had dreamed of, although Mickelson and Dustin Johnson were there or thereabouts. But in some ways the golf was subsidiary. What was going on behind the scenes was more seismic. Moments after the first ball was struck, the PGA Tour announced a ban on their 17 players in the field from competing for the foreseeable future. LIV Golf replied by saying they were being “vindictive”.
None of the Majors have said how they plan to act. The rebels are currently clear to compete at the US Open and Open this year, but the Masters will reportedly be the first to set out their stall of golf’s big four. Judging by Augusta National chairman Fred Ridley’s previous statements that they “support the current ecosystem”, the sense is they could follow the PGA Tour lead.
What then for LIV Golf and their burgeoning list of rebels, with Americans Bryson DeChambeau, Patrick Reed and Rickie Fowler among the looming new recruits?
And quite what it means for Ryder Cup participation is also uncertain. There was an irony that Sam Ryder, after whom the event was named, should have lived much of his life in St Albans, where golf’s new dawn was taking place and, with it, the sport fracturing.
While this was still golf, it was not the Royal and Ancient, far from it. A fly-by greeted the players after their taxi rides to a shotgun tee-off, while a local brass band dressed as faux Grenadier Guards played out the Thunderbirds theme tune.
And there was an attempt to make the fans’ village, built on the driving range, as quintessentially British as possible — at least the American or Middle East perception of it — with a double-decker bus selling Pimm’s and a red telephone box.
LIV Golf memorabilia was on sale at £30 for caps and £25 for T-shirts of each of the teams, although those inside the shop had bizarrely been told not to divulge which team had been the biggest seller.
It is still golf, but at what cost to the players’ legacies and to the wider game?
And it is those pound signs which remain the focal point; the vulgar amounts of money offered to some of the best players to come on board. It is still golf, but at what cost to the players’ legacies and to the wider game? It merely felt like the start of a long, drawn-out fight.
