McEwan: Dear golf, I love you but we can’t go on like this

Dear golf,

We need to talk.

The past 20 years have been great, haven’t they? We’ve had some absolutely brilliant times together. Downs, yes, but loads of ups, too. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

You’ve spoiled me so much. The trips around the world. The tickets to the biggest events. You even arranged for me to play Augusta National.

Lately, though, I feel like things have been changing. Our relationship isn’t what it used to be. It’s nothing to do with the age gap. I know I’m turning 40 in February and you’ll be 567 a few weeks later, but I promise you that has nothing to do with it. It’s just, well, you’ve changed quite a lot in the last couple of years and I don’t really feel like I recognise you any more.

Basically, it’s not me – it’s you.

Now, before you ask, there’s nobody else. I know you’ve always been a bit insecure about how close I am to football. Likewise, rugby, tennis, the NFL, and a few others. But you’ve always been my first love. And that’s why it pains me to see what you become.

You’re probably thinking, ‘Is this because of LIV?’ I assure you it’s not. Not specifically. It’s more to do with the extent to which you’ve allowed money, more generally, to corrupt you.

My mum always used to say to me, “Golf? It’s just about money.” But I told her you were different. Even when my friends tried to warn me you were changing, I didn’t listen. I said they were mistaken and that they didn’t know you like I did. Turns out, I was wrong.

I’m maybe being a bit vague, and you deserve better than that. So, here goes.

Remember when we started out on this adventure together back in 2004? The PGA Tour’s combined prize fund that year was $232million. I suppose there were signs even then of what was to come. I mean, you gave Stephen Ames $3.3million that season. Stephen Ames! And we talked at the time about the Tavistock Cup and how icky that was, but we agreed never to speak of that again, so let’s not.

Still, those were great days. The biggest prize fund for a regular tour event that year was $5.3million. There was no FedEx Cup, no Player Impact Program, no Comcast Business Tour Top 10. With the exception of appearance fees for the very best players – you can keep denying this all you like, I know you’re lying – you rewarded players in line with how they played if not in line with the real world. Sure, the best golfers were greedy and self-important back then but, somehow, it didn’t seem as bad.

I don’t know, maybe social media has changed things for us. There’s a lot more information around these days and fewer secrets. I always knew there was stuff you were keeping from me – how many arguments ended with you shouting “Don’t ask me about my business” like I was Kay and you were Michael – but I had no idea just how bad it was getting.

And look at where we’ve ended up. I take no pleasure in saying this but you’re a broken mess these days. Average prize funds pushing double figures. Signature events worth $20m. Something called “Crushers GC” winning $14m in Miami last month. The Travelers Championship paying out more than three of the four majors. You even gave Rory (who we love) $15m for being good on social media, and that was before his wife gave back his log-in details. And don’t even get me started on Jon Rahm and the $450m you’ve given him to “grow the game”. I mean, please. Don’t insult my intelligence.

You’ve become complacent. You’ve stopped paying attention to the stuff that actually matters (trophies), the people that actually matter (fans), and you’ve allowed yourself to be taken advantage of time and time again.

You’ve created a troop of materialistic ‘me, me, me’ egomaniacs.

Take Chris Stroud. After a season in which he didn’t so much as tickle the top-100 on the FedEx Cup standings, he tried to qualify for LIV because “the [PGA] Tour has built a bad culture”, “doesn’t care about you if you’re not in the top 30”, and “has never tried to give back to the players”.

This is a guy who has made $13,360,657 from 402 PGA Tour starts. That works out at $33,235 per event, not including endorsements. I mean, you do know that the median male salary in the US in 2022 was $52,612 per year, right?

And then there’s Chesson Hadley. Remember that time last summer when he declared he “would like to be rewarded for my decision to stay loyal” to the PGA Tour, despite there being no evidence of LIV having made him an offer? Just think about that for a second. Hadley, who could walk onto the first tee of just about any golf course in the UK and not be recognised, thinks he should be given an actual reward for knocking back a hypothetical approach. That’s like telling your wife she should be more affectionate because Rachel Stevens didn’t ask you out. (Speaking of which, did we ever get anywhere with getting Rachel into golf?)

I guess what I’m saying is that I feel quite overwhelmed. It’s just too much and, from everything I’ve seen and heard, next year is going to be even worse.

You’ve probably noticed we’ve not been as intimate with one another lately. I’ve not been playing with you as much as I used to. I’ve made less time for “us”. I know you’ll say I shouldn’t let your work interfere with our relationship but it’s hard to care about something that has its priorities as out of proportion as you do. You even decided last week to change the rules and make yourself harder to play. I mean, I get it. I honestly do. But when did anybody ever walk off a course going, ‘Well, that was easy, I wish I was hitting it five yards shorter.’

Here’s the bottom line: we’re growing apart and I think we need to take a break. What’s that? Let’s cool off, get a frozen yoghurt? No… a break from us.

I’m going to spend Christmas with my family and focus on the stuff that really matters. Not multi-millionaires getting richer simply by dint of being multi-millionaires in the first place.

I want you to know I still care very much about you and I’m not saying this is the end. I just need to not see you for a while.

Let’s talk again in the New Year.

Until then, take care.

Michael x

Michael McEwan is the Deputy Editor of bunkered and has been part of the team since 2004. In that time, he has interviewed almost every major figure within the sport, from Jack Nicklaus, to Rory McIlroy, to Donald Trump. The host of the multi award-winning bunkered Podcast and a member of Balfron Golfing Society, Michael is the author of three books and is the 2023 PPA Scotland 'Writer of the Year' and 'Columnist of the Year'. Dislikes white belts, yellow balls and iron headcovers. Likes being drawn out of the media ballot to play Augusta National.

Deputy Editor