Sometimes, a split in any direction can present a golden opportunity. Back in March, I thought my prospects were heading toward LIV, but now my head is turning.
As more and more professional golfers decide to move to the LIV Golf tour, it becomes more and more likely that I eventually will get a spot on the PGA Tour.
I mean, come on, won’t they eventually run out of golfers on the old-timey tour, the one that doesn’t allow loud music? The Saudis’ pockets seem to be very deep (will they eventually take over college football, the Olympics and bowling?), and no one should be surprised if the parade of players crossing the bridge paved with $100 bills to LIV continues.
LIV has attracted names like Bryson DeChambeau, Dustin Johnson, Brooks Koepka, Sergio Garcia, Bubba Watson and Phil Mickelson. The Saudi group’s attempt to bring in golfers in the world top 20 hasn’t been a big success, however. LIVers Johnson, Koepka and Abraham Ancer have danced around in the top-20 group, but much bigger names like Scottie Scheffler, Rory McIlroy and Jon Rahm have rejected LIV flirtations.
The favorite phrase of the refugees moving to LIV seems to be that they want to “grow golf.” I also want to grow golf. Except in the rough. I don’t want to grow golf there.
I’m guessing the LIV people eventually will offer some kind of financial package with the goal of bringing in a bunch of PGA Tourists as a group.
This could be my opening. If the PGA fields get so slim that tournament sponsors are so embarrassed that they won’t pose for photographs with the winners, those of us with handicaps in the 20 range will be poised to leap. I rarely poise, but I’m open to it for the money.
My demands will be few. An experienced caddie to get me through the tough spots. Of which there will be many.
A new set of top-of-the-category irons. The meanest but prettiest driver available. A Scotty Cameron putter model designed especially for me. The best bottled water. Course wear in brilliant colors, but, please, no pink or orange.
Oh, and an automatic invitation to the Masters.
Chances are I’ll have an entourage. My so-called buddies who won’t answer my texts about playing early on Tuesday mornings suddenly will be ready to go to various European capitals with me. Some will want to caddie; others will be seeing to my other needs, like freshening my golf towel supply and shining my golf shoes.
Therefore, we’ll need a fleet of Mercedes and experienced, bonded drivers to haul us around. Each vehicle should be equipped with a raft of food and drink to sustain us on the three-mile ride from the golf course to the city and the five-star restaurant where we’ll dine.
We’ll also need nighttime entertainment. Maybe a ready library of golf movies. Or personal golf clinics by golf teachers who can teach but for some reason can’t play.
Or free bowling (if the Saudis don’t have that yet).
