Ben Hogan was the first to specifically prepare for the Masters Tournament. He’d hunker down in South Florida for a month and hone his game at Seminole Golf Club.
A generation later, Jack Nicklaus invented the practice of building a tournament schedule that best prepared him for each of the four majors. Tiger Woods read his book.
Fans and observers — at least the true lovers of major championship golf — often do their own kind of prep in the days leading up to Augusta.
They scan the entry list, compare with recent results, and ready themselves to draft the best roster possible for the office pool.
Or, lacking a financial interest, they dive back into a book or two of Masters history, reminding themselves of what Gene Sarazen did and what Roberto De Vicenzo didn’t do.
Either strategically (the gambler) or romantically (most others), the serious fan and onlooker prepares in some fashion.
This guy, though not necessarily for any type of Masters run-up, went to a LIV Golf tournament. Live and let LIV, they say.
Ian Poulter of the Majesticks shakes hands on his way to the seventh tee during the first round of a LIV Golf event at Orange County National. Mandatory Credit: Reinhold Matay-USA TODAY Sports
LIV in Orlando
Last weekend, the LIV folks were in Orlando to debut their Friday-through-Sunday brand of golf at Orange County National. The weather was nice and, on paper, it was just an hour away. On paper an hour, on the asphalt of today’s I-4 through Central Florida, another story. And once there, public parking was in a field of bush-hogged roots, soft sand and an occasional cactus plant.
“Don’t let the logistical failings of the Ops Team cloud your judgment of the day ahead,” became a quiet rallying cry modern customers reluctantly use now and then.
Not your ideal parking situation.
Once through the gates — hell, even before you’re through the gates — differences between this and the entire history of tournament golf begin sounding off. The music isn’t overly loud, but plenty loud, and in keeping with the theme of a sports-world disruptor, it comes from that clubby, sometimes-techno, in-your-face catalog of sound designed to get the blood flowing.
It does, by the way.
An interactive fan village near the clubhouse, along with those omnipresent food trucks, shaded sitting areas, and nearby practice areas filled with competitors, keep everyone occupied in the hour or two leading to the 1:15 p.m. shotgun start.
Yes, shotgun start.
Prior to LIV, the shotgun was reserved solely for those summertime fundraisers down at the club. LIV’s creators determined, and maybe rightfully so, golf fans don’t want or need a sunrise-to-sunset event — instead, all 48 LIV golfers are spread about the course, where they begin and end (give or take) their rounds at the same time.
Thankfully, once the shotgun blasts (it sounds very similar to an air horn, by the way), the wall-to-wall music is turned down.
Down, not off.
As the signs remind you, it’s “Golf, but louder.” As you walk the course, speakers show up randomly, and they’re always on. Once play begins, the music takes on a gentler but still upbeat vibe, always loud enough to hear, regardless of what corner of the property you may find, but not loud enough to disrupt or aggravate someone facing a 4-foot downhiller.
Gotta say, I like it. A few hours in, a technical gremlin interfered and the music stopped for a few seconds. That felt odd, actually, but the soft blanket of sound quickly returned and was welcomed — or maybe it’s just my white-noise infatuation.
Captain Phil Mickelson of Hyflyers GC plays his shot from the sixth tee during the first round of the LIV Golf Invitational – Orlando at The Orange County National on March 31, 2023, in Orlando, Florida. (Photo by Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images)
Dustin Johnson, Phil Mickelson enjoying a LIVing wage
Maybe the next generation of golf fans will buy into something resembling what LIV is selling — and this year, they appear to be aiming the hard sell on their concept of 12 four-man teams.
And surely some of today’s generation are either into it or maybe just accepting of it as an occasional alternative — there were plenty of team shirts and caps going across the merchandise counter, and certainly, all of the buyers can’t be considering them future collectors’ items.
Eventually, it should go without saying, it has to be about the golf, assuming there’s a future to this. And that’s where this guy’s senses unravel.
Someone mid-afternoon mentioned how the players not only seemed more relaxed than standard PGA Tour fare (nearly all were in shorts, by the way) but also less grim, less weighed down by golf’s ancient pressures. Happier, you could say.
Well, yeah. The LIV tournament norm is a $25 million total purse, with $4 million to the winner. Frankly, that can’t be from where all the positive mojo arises. Nope, the relaxed vibe springs from way south on the leaderboard, all the way down at 48th (and last) place, which pays $120,000.
And all you have to do is stay upright through Sunday afternoon, because there’s no 36-hole cut.
Up in high-rent territory, modern stars like Dustin Johnson, eventual winner Brooks Koepka and commissioner Greg Norman’s key field general, Phil Mickelson, had earned enough career leverage to negotiate tens of millions in guaranteed pay before putting a peg into LIV turf.
And that begs an obvious question. Would you tune in to see the Wallendas defy death if they had a net below the tightrope? What’s in it for the fans and TV viewers, and also, what’s in it for the Wallendas, assuming they’re sporty fellas?
Last summer, Tiger Woods famously and ably spoke for those of us in that camp.
“What these players are doing for guaranteed money, what is the incentive to practice? What is the incentive to go out there and earn it in the dirt?”
Captain Bryson Dechambeau of Crushers GC plays his shot from the seventh tee during the first round of the LIV Golf Invitational – Orlando at The Orange County National on March 31, 2023, in Orlando, Florida. (Photo by Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images)
Masters, other majors still have LIV golfers, but for how long?
As Masters week builds to Thursday’s start of the 2023 major championship schedule, 18 LIV golfers will be competing at Augusta National. Six of them are former Masters champs and will presumably continue receiving invites as long as they can reasonably compete.
The other 12 are on the clock, just as the vast majority of LIV golfers are on it for the other three majors, where world-ranking points are the biggest component in filling out the field. LIV results, until further notice, don’t earn world-ranking points.
Eventually, still-young golfers like Patrick Reed, Bryson DeChambeau and Cameron Smith will start missing majors. They will have ensured that future generations of their offspring will be able to afford groceries and keep the lights on, and maybe that’s plenty good enough for them, though it’s not like they’d been languishing in squalor until last summer.
That’s assuming LIV has a shelf life and these PGA Tour expatriates remain there, and here’s where we finally roll around to the whole geo-political issue with this Saudi-financed league.
As mentioned here time and time again, sooner or later, don’t the financiers have to look at each other and wonder what they’re getting for their billions? If this was designed as a form of sportswashing, as many critics insist, somebody forgot to order mops.
But even if you choose to ignore the politics of it all — as so many of us do in various facets of life — you need to enjoy the product if you’re going to devote any amount of allegiance.
It’s a big ol’ world with a whole bunch of varying tastes, and if the benefactors hang in there, maybe LIV will live on into the future, even if it fails this guy’s feel test.
After all, the music ain’t bad.
Ken Willis is a columnist for the Daytona Beach News-Journal, part of the USA Today Network, and has covered the Masters for decades.
