This one’s for the golfers…
I used to joke with our neighbor back in Indiana, Euline Kieffner, that the reason she and I loved golf so much was that there was nothing more alluring to folks who’d grown up on farms like we had than a mown field with no manure in it. Until four or five years ago, I was enchanted by the game of golf, and literally could not get enough of it. I played and practiced it religiously, at one point working my way all the way down to a four-handicap, which is pretty damn good. I could play.
Golf is a great game that can teach a person a lot about patience, persistence, imagination, focus, character, and the difference between trying to force positive outcomes and letting positive outcomes emanate from an open mind. As my business focus has changed, so has my relationship with the game. Today, I play rarely, maybe two or three times a year, and only on social occasions. The romance is gone. Occasionally, my Taylor-Mades and I stare wistfully at one another across a crowded garage, and remember how it used to be between us.
What fascinates me most about the sport of golf today, sad to say, is the wreckage to its most visible brand experience–the PGA Tour. We’re talking multi-vehicle pile-up. Its shiningest star has lost most of his luster and its TV ratings have tanked in tandem with the Tiger brand. The Tour’s newcomers have apparently had no life experiences to differentiate them from one another–all they know is golf. Its core demographic is aging. Its most interesting personalities have retired.
Last Sunday, while I did a little work in the office, more out of habit than anything, I had the PGA Championship—the last of the four ‘majors’ of the season—on the TV in the background. It held no inherent interest for me. And then, all of a sudden, it did. Several of the game’s young lions—Rory McElroy from Scotland(?), a long-hitting lefthander with high follow-through named Bubba, a cool German named Kaymer I’d never heard of before, and Dustin Johnson, who hits it insanely long, were all fighting for the lead, along with a caddyshacker named Wen-Chong from China, who learned to play on that country’s first golf course, which was built only 20 years ago. All of a sudden, it was a story worth following.
Over the last five or six holes the tournament’s drama became palpable. None of the young guys were holding back, no one was playing not to lose, they were all winding up, letting it rip, and playing for the win, and it was riveting. The tournament came down to a tie between two players, Bubba and the German, Kaymer, with Johnson playing the final hole of the tournament with a chance to win it. He missed his par putt to win. We were looking at a three-player, three-hole playoff for the championship.
And then, all of a sudden, we weren’t. A PGA Tournament official pulled Johnson aside as he walked off the 18th green and told him that he had violated a rule by grounding his club in a hazard along the 18th fairway, one of the 1000+ sand bunkers that lined the course.
I’m not going to get into the specifics here, except to say that technically the officials were correct—Johnson had, in fact, let his club touch the sand prior to making his second shot. Narratively, however, the PGA people blew it like I’ve never seen a call blown in a lifetime of watching sports. There was no possible way for Johnson to know that the spot where his ball sat—a spot that had been trampled by tens of thousands of people during the tournament, and was tightly framed by hundreds in the gallery as he made his swing—was a hazard. Besides that, if there had once been a border to the sand bunker, that border had been erased by the week’s crowds to the point where it no longer existed. Given this, there was no way for the PGA officials to know for sure from looking at a replay whether the ball was ‘in’ a bunker or not.
This wasn’t some snap judgment in the heat of the moment by a referee or ump. This was a deliberation. A review. A consideration. And then, a horrible decision that took all the life out of the story. Johnson was penalized two strokes, and eliminated from the playoff.
The tragedy of this decision goes way beyond any personal setback to Mr. Johnson. The PGA brand desperately needed this story, needed the drama to keep building with the playoff between three of its new stars. They had it. It was happening. The audience was engaged. There was real enthusiasm from the broadcasters. It was turning into the most interesting finish to a tournament in years. All the PGA officials had to do was stay out of its way. Instead, they committed the golfer’s most grievous mistake: they over-thought the shot. And then they shanked it.
This was not the behavior of people concerned about what’s best for the game of golf, about supporting their brand’s narrative, or about nurturing the next generation of golfers. This was vainglorious meddling by middle-aged men desperate for attention and fearing nothing as much as their own impotence.
Oh yeah, Kaymer won the playoff, but who cared? Nobody outside of Kaymer’s girlfriend is talking about it. All the fan conversation is about the idiotic ruling.
We see this a lot in business. A compelling narrative begins to unfold, or an idea seems to be gathering momentum, and then, from out of nowhere, an expressionless manager with a rule book derails it. It sucks for everyone involved except the person with the rule book.
If the rules don’t support your brand’s narrative, don’t change the narrative, change the rules. If your managers, like those PGA officials, aren’t nuanced enough to understand what it takes to support your narrative, change managers. This is what the PGA needs to do, pronto, to get its ailing game back on track.
I used to play a lot of golf, and the game taught me a lot. One bit of wisdom came my way one Sunday afternoon from a golfer named Jim Bishop, while he and I were playing the classic old Wilson Course at Griffith Park in Los Angeles. He told me that one reason he plays golf is that it that offers a person the chance to experience perfection. “Every now and then,” he said, “you make a perfect swing.” As any golfer who took the game seriously would, I understood exactly what Bishop was talking about.