Golf is a sport rich in micro disappointments — shots that drift offline, putts that slide by — and at the elite level, the discouragement can be profound as championships, major and minor, slip away. But from a fan perspective, what has always been less prevalent in golf than in other sports is a searing disappointment in those who actually play the game.
Years of marketing about how ‘These Guys Are Good’ is partly to blame, one-note messaging so effective that it would be the envy of many a tinpot dictatorship. Disappointment is a subjective matter, of course. There will always be those who excuse conduct that others condemn, no matter how serious or trivial, whether it’s Patrick Reed’s estranged relationship with the rulebook, Dustin Johnson’s whoopsies with a jet ski, or Messrs. Nicklaus and Player designing courses with utter disregard for the source of the fee.
Whatever the issue, there’s a constituency that insists consequential decisions made in public are somehow not subject to public scrutiny or comment. These clods are working overtime at the moment, aided by an army of bots splattering social media with whataboutism in defense of the ongoing Saudi hijacking of professional golf. Some disappointments are nigh on impossible for even the most ardent admirer to excuse though. Graeme McDowell is proof of that.
