ATLANTA — One imagines that PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monahan has dreamed mostly perfect dreams these last five years. Inhabiting his sleep are visions of immaculate runways of green. Of Fortune 500 companies practically cage fighting for the privilege of lending him their names. Of low maintenance players who never have to be released on their own recognizance. All of it backed by the adoring narration of Jim Nance.
But this week a nightmare threatens his sleep.
Say Cam Smith goes on one of his laser-guided sprees on the green and wins the Tour Championship at East Lake. Then, if we believe all the reports that Smith has yet to confirm, he might scoop up one of this Tour’s marquee events and the $18 million prize that goes with it and without breaking stride make a dash for the competing LIV Tour. The check wouldn’t have even cleared before he’s a headliner on the Saudi miniature golf circuit.
Into the garden of the PGA Tour this year slithered LIV (roman for 54, the number of holes they play over there in the alternate golf universe). It has been a mostly a base, greed-fueled enterprise launched by Saudi Arabia in an attempt to win over the rather large anti-tyranny demographic.
With huge up-front money, LIV has attracted a few name players, most of whom are on the other side of their competitive peak. Some of them — read here Patrick Reed or even Brooks Koepka — mark LIV as a safe haven for prickly characters. Smith and his Lynyrd Skynyrd-tribute-band haircut would be a worrisome departure as a deeply skilled, likable enough golfer at his peak.
One of the very faces of LIV, Phil Mickelson, is a fraud in a golfer’s disguise, having signed a reported contract for $200 million, now resting upon the pillow of his guaranteed money and shooting a combined 26-over par through the first three events. At least he could do something productive while he has the Saudi’s ear, like convince them to start pumping a little more oil.
Here on the LXXII Tour, where they still play 72 holes as God intended, they have decided to go ahead anyway with their big event at East Lake. It’s not as if LIV really cut into this select 29-player (with the withdrawal of Will Zalatoris) field. Of the defectors only Talor Gooch was in the top 20 in FedEx Cup points this summer after the U.S. Open as he was being exiled from the PGA Tour. And, yes, we can somehow get by here this week Gooch-less.
Other LIV-ers like Dustin Johnson (96th in FedEx points after the Open), Koepka (84th) and Bryson DeChambeau (209th) might well have not made it to make it to this year’s Tour Championship anyway.
By the way, whatever happened to that DeChambeau fellow? He seemed an interesting sort for a brief time and then just disappeared.
That’s not to say the LXXII Tour is oblivious to the threat posed by LIV, not any more. Monahan spent a good deal of his state of the Tour address Wednesday outlining upcoming changes expressly designed to counter LIV’s bottomless supply of money and shamelessness.
The bottom line to the announced format changes is an effort to keep the top players fat and content and away from the clutches of the poachers at LIV. A big jump in purses. A slate of 20 events that cater to the “top players,” identified for some reason by their popularity as much as their performance. And for the less fortunate, a guaranteed minimum pay of $500,000.
Even here at the Tour Championship, an event that with its small field, outrageous prize money, screwy scoring system and no cut hardly mirrors everyday life on the circuit, we can be reminded of the fundamental advantages LXXII has over LIV.
“You’re competing for trophies that matter. You’re competing for history and legacy,” Monahan said Wednesday. And also, most importantly, let’s face it, the kind of huge jump in earnings that hasn’t been seen since the arrival of Tiger Woods.
A hollow money grab, LIV has no other importance. Atlanta’s Billy Andrade, recent winner of the Payne Stewart Award, has likened anyone jumping to LIV to a basketball player leaving the NBA for the Harlem Globetrotters. “Exhibition golf,” he rightfully calls LIV.
In fact, it’s fair to worry about the PGA Tour going too far to meet this challenge, of it being lured into the idea of stars making guaranteed money rather than earning their way on the course. The idea of making money based on the merit of your work is fundamental to pro golf’s appeal. Otherwise, you’ve got the institutional equivalent of the Los Angeles Angels.
Along comes so-called elevated events to highlight the stars. And a big boost in money just for being a star, behind the Player Impact Program (PIP, which will dish out $100 million in bonuses to the 20 most popular players, as determined by the Tour).
Rory McIlroy, all grown up as the conscience of golf, tried to assure the room Wednesday that the upcoming changes wouldn’t alter the basic truth of the PGA Tour.
“If you want to be the best player in the game, the PGA Tour is where you want to be because it is a pure meritocracy,” he said. “There’s nothing stopping guys from playing in these elevated events. There’s nothing stopping guys from getting in the PIP. You just play better. You work your ass off, you play better.”
And maybe dream of making the Tour Championship rather than the big LIV Team Championship at Trump National.
