With the PGA Tour back at Bay Hill this week for the Arnold Palmer Invitational with its rainbow-colored umbrellas and memories of the man himself, it’s easy to wonder what the late Palmer would have thought about the state of professional golf these days.
As much as any single person, Palmer built the PGA Tour into what it became, ushering golf into the television age with his charisma, his alpaca sweaters and his crinkled forehead as he watched his golf ball in the distance.
The line of fans this week waiting to have their photo snapped in front of the big bronze statue of Palmer near Bay Hill’s first tee speaks to his enduring impact and offers one more chance to connect with someone whose greatest gift may have been making others feel noticed.
It’s presumptuous to assign present-day opinions to someone who passed away in 2016, but it’s fair to assume Palmer would be disappointed by the discord and more bothered by the constant talk about obscene amounts of money than he was about seeing someone with a hat on in the grillroom at Bay Hill (which he would personally ask the wearer to remove while inside).
It would pain Palmer to hear what a friend told me last week. As passionate of a golfer as I’ve been around, my friend – who has memberships at some of the finest clubs in the land and is the most youthful 70-something you can find – said he has found himself losing interest in professional golf because of all that has happened in the past couple of years.
It’s easy to be jaded when players and leaders talk about growing the game while negotiating billion-dollar deals to benefit themselves and the players who will benefit continue to bicker about how the latest windfall is distributed.
My friend isn’t alone. In the same way some fans have been turned off by the money in the NBA or Major League Baseball, professional golf feels as if it is teetering on the edge.
The theme is familiar – it’s all about the money, and the sense of entitlement among the various constituencies is discouraging – but it’s true.
Even Rory McIlroy, who is one of the game’s most virtuous voices, has drawn criticism for softening his opinions and offering an olive branch rather than a sword as professional golf drifts through its uncertain purgatory.
The golf feels secondary, despite good stories such as those of Jake Knapp, Grayson Murray and Nick Dunlap.
Recently, Viktor Hovland called the focus on money “a little soulless,” adding this on Claude Harmon III’s podcast: “I don’t know what the path forward is, to be honest. It’s been a little sad, but I try not to think about it too much. It’s a little comical, to be honest, to see what’s going on in the game of golf. But I hope there’s a resolution in the future. Because at the end of the day, I just want to compete at the best golf courses, the best tournament, against the best players.
“And it’s as simple as that. However that’s going to happen, I don’t know, but that’s what I would like to see.”
If the Saudis really want to grow the game, they could have invested the billions they have thrown at LIV Golf and built golf courses and training centers around the world, putting their stamp on a grassroots effort to touch the people more than it touches the professionals. But that probably doesn’t offer the return on investment or a seat at the game’s most powerful table that the Saudis’ Public Investment Fund imagined.
Palmer’s appeal was built on his relatability. He made fans feel like he was in their orbit even as he helped revolutionize the commercialization of athletes. Keeping that kind of connection is critical for professional golf to nurture.
Palmer was not averse to change, however.
In the late 1960s, Palmer and Jack Nicklaus spearheaded an effort to separate professional golfers from golf professionals, who worked in clubs and golf shops around the country. With their support, the PGA Tour became a separate entity, breaking away from the PGA of America.
At the time, the tour schedule had total purses of just over $5 million for the year. Last year, Scottie Scheffler picked up $4.5 million for winning the Players Championship, the same amount the winner will receive later this month.
The money attracts the players, but that’s not why the fans care. Though he played in a different time, Palmer understood that better than anyone.
Three of the previous seven winners of the Arnold Palmer Invitational – Marc Leishman, Bryson DeChambeau and Tyrrell Hatton – have left the PGA Tour for LIV Golf and, consequently, can’t play Bay Hill this week.
That’s professional golf at the moment.
Throw in Talor Gooch’s regrettable comment about Rory McIlroy needing an asterisk by his name should he win the Masters this year and complete the career Grand Slam, Anthony Kim’s welcome but rough-around-the-edges return to professional golf and the forced focus on rebuilding the tour’s business model and it’s enough to dull the senses.
Palmer was a traditionalist who believed in the PGA Tour. He believed the game was about more than the playing of it. He believed it could both build and reveal character and that it should be for everyone.
It’s fair to say he wouldn’t like what he sees today because not many of us do. But he also had a bullish belief in himself, and it helped mold him into the giant he became. He could stand in a forest and see the gap more than the trees.
The professional game needs that these days. It needs consensus rather than conflict. It needs to be a pursuit of more than money.
Maybe that’s naïve or idealistic. Maybe the current rupture has changed pro golf forever and it’s apparent that it won’t ever be like it was before.
But maybe being at Arnie’s place this week will be a reminder of what it can be.
E-MAIL RON
TOP PHOTO: RUSSELL LANSFORD, ICON SPORTSWIRE VIA GETTY IMAGES