Jon Rahm's Victory at the Masters: A Bright Spot in Golf's Turbulent Times
Golf on television has always piqued my curiosity, particularly in April, and The Masters.
Lately, though, that interest has waned. Quite frankly, golf is now confusing and a little sad. The childish bickering between the status quo and the new kid is both irksome and irritating.
Surely the PGA Tour and its LIV adversary could give some thought to the game of golf rather than protecting their punctured reputations. The game is already in a state of disrepair—in the professional ranks—where to from here?
Really, how much money do the players need, and what amount of free equipment and clothing is enough? And what’s wrong with flying commercial—a dose of realism might make them play a little quicker and smile once in a while.
Anyway, thankfully April and The Masters is different.
For one, its location never changes. Secondly, apart from a few measured adjustments here and there, the golf course presents as it always has (yes, agreed, the weather does have a say here). That same weather threw my Saturday morning viewing out of whack.
And thirdly, there were two opposing tribes competing at the same event.
The PGA Tour players—the status quo. And the competing tribe, the Saudi-backed LIV golf crew. Everyone was on tenterhooks.
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Fred Ridley, the chairperson of Augusta National Golf Club (ANGC), presents as a stereotypical ANGC overlord.
His coiffured bouffant must take an age to arrange. I’d wager he takes as long in front of the mirror as Patrick Cantlay (PGA tribe) takes to three-jab from distance when he has no chance of winning—this with the two leaders waiting patiently on 16 tee—or in Koepka’s case, impatiently.
Ridley is the seventh chairperson of the ANGC, a position that warrants a good deal of self-protection. Before him went some alluring names: Hootie Johnson, Hord Hardin, and Clifford Roberts, to name a few. But there was one person who is rightly considered the founding father of Augusta National, Robert Tyre Jones Jr., aka Mr. Bobby Jones.
One of Jones' enduring legacies is the preservation of amateurs in golf. He never chose to turn professional. Instead, Jones collected academic honours at the same rate as he won golf's major titles.
Academically, there was a mechanical engineering degree from Georgia Tech, a degree in English literature from Harvard, and then a law enrolment at Emory University. Bravo. Post-golf, Jones practiced law to pay the bills.
On the golf course, he had no peers, just people to play golf with.
In eight seasons, yes eight summers, Jones won 13 major championships, including; five U.S. Amateurs, four U.S. Opens, three British Opens, and one British Amateur—at this time, the U.S. Amateur and British Amateur were considered major championships.
So with that in mind, how would Jones look down on the current poster boy of Mens amateur golf, Sam Bennett?
Bennett plays nicely, albeit slowly. He has a smile ready for when cameras are present—not so when they are absent. He actually spits on his own clubs and cleans them—this was dramatised ad nauseam in the media! He also spits without his clubs being in range—this wasn’t reported!
He talks gallantly of going back to classes when he gets the chance—he’s in his fifth year at Texas A&M; maybe study is getting in the way of golf. I would say Mr. Jones might fret over Bennett’s academic record.
And here’s the deal-breaker.
At my last count, Bennett had SIX visible sponsors on his hat, shirt, bag, jocks, and wherever else there was white space. Initially, I thought his locker must have been adjacent to Kevin Na's and he had availed himself of Na’s leftovers! No, this was all from his own duffle bag.
There was a golf company based in Phoenix, a community bank (at least it was a Texas bank), a golf clothing brand, a home brand, and a Texas uplifting service—whatever the f*ck that is!
So, Mr. Jones, what do you think of all that?
There doesn’t appear to be any evidence suggesting Jones was impartial to professionals at the time of his own golfing greatness; however, if he did have a direct line to Ridley, he might suggest young Bennett avail himself of some Masters merchandise to play in until he returns next year as a professional.
OK, a disclaimer—I know, there’s the ink on his left arm, reminding him of his late father’s message: "Don’t wait to do something." Worry not, Mr. Bennett, your son is a listener. Still, what would Mr. Jones really say?
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And to the "Civil War" that has engulfed golf recently:
On one side is the incumbent powerhouse: the PGA Tour.
In world golf, the PGA Tour has always been ‘the tour’ to get on. Ask Greg Norman—he couldn’t get out of Townsville quick enough. They have monopolised professional golf like Google has dominated search.
LIV, on the other hand, which is funded by the Public Investment Fund—which is the sovereign wealth fund of Saudi Arabia—has no base to work from and can be perceived as something akin to a traveling circus, the main difference being the artists are paid in millions, not shillings.
So why are two tribes at war?
Put simply—which is a strength of mine—the dispute was initially centred on a misappropriation of funds by the PGA Tour. They were doing as most large corporations do: milking the golden cow as long as it keeps coming back, neglecting their rank and file, and, of course, lining their own very deep pockets with gold shillings.
Little did they know that one of their most trusted employees, who had successfully milked that golden cow for years, would be the one to first break ranks. Phil Mickelson—Lefty—finally said enough of this.
Mickelson was peeved at the PGA Tour for apparently owning his own digital rights and assets. He came up with a ridiculous $ number that had been wrongfully withheld from himself and his brand—there was no mention of Mrs. Mickelson or his long-time, not always paid caddy, Jim ‘Bones’ Mackay. This was the basis of his spat with the PGA Tour.
Mickelson had a willing ally in Norman, who himself had cultivated a mistrust of the other tribe over a number of years. Then there were the Saudis, ever willing to wash some dirty laundry. The stars aligned. And LIV was born.
Again, Mr. Jones must have wondered what all the commotion was about. He might simply view it as nothing more than grownups squabbling over who can play with who. Financial reward directly from a tournament's purse had no bearing on his golfing rationale. Winning tournaments was enough for Jones.
When all was said and done, the 2023 Masters finished on a Sunday afternoon, as per normal. Where a winner was ushered into a cabin named after a dude named 'Butler'. He was asked some bland questions by a dude called Jim—who, by the way, challenges Fred Ridley in the bouffant stakes—and then an ill-fitting green jacket is placed on the square shoulders of a Spaniard called ‘Jon’!
Jon Rahm became the fourth Spaniard to win the Masters. His play throughout the week was flawless. His win rightfully confirmed his deserved world no.1 tag.
I would describe his play as having a hint of monochrome artistry; a healthy dose of ruthless cold-bloodedness; and, most importantly, he controlled a volatile streak that can get in his way. He is very good at what he does.
You could say the same of Mr. Bobby Jones.
PS. Thanks again for being here.