It’s impossible to not empathize some with Jay Monahan, who stepped away as PGA Tour commissioner last week to address an undisclosed medical situation. After all, who among us didn’t feel stricken upon hearing that Chesson Hadley expects to be rewarded for his loyalty in not leaving for LIV? That declaration proves how myopic entitlement has spread from the Tour’s penthouse all the way to its basement.
Monahan’s predicament is unenviable, even without the attending health issues. He’s been cast as the face of a rapprochement with the Saudi Arabian government, an ill-defined but ignominious deal that promises a future in which the Tour will have to rationalize its proximity to regime atrocities. When he announced the agreement on June 6, Monahan knew he’d be widely pilloried, including by his own blindsided members and by the families of 9/11 victims, who were left feeling like useful props in a commercial dispute. The fallout, he would have calculated, could be career-ending.
The 9/11 relatives have every reason to feel manipulated. And Tour players? Well, they remain the constituency that has caused the most agita for Monahan and his team since this spectacle began. The Tour has been criticized — often fairly — for a flat-footed and reactive response to the Saudi-funded LIV league, but then it’s difficult to be nimble when members constantly shift the goalposts. For example, deciding that participation in designated events would not be mandatory in 2024, essentially telling sponsors they’ll have the same field guarantees as before — none — but pay substantially more for the privilege.
Issues with the membership run deeper than the practicalities of selling the product. Several prominent players didn’t fire a shot in defense of their Tour over the last three years but instead held it to ransom by threatening to bolt for LIV unless their demands were met. Those demands resulted in a compensation model that is, by Monahan’s admission, unsustainable without outside investment. In short, PGA Tour players offered an example of what happens when a professional sport consumes itself with naked greed. And it isn’t over yet.
Patrick Cantlay, who carries himself with the assurance of a man convinced he’d be a partner at Goldman Sachs if he wasn’t merely sporting its logo on his cap, has been trying to rally players against the deal with the Saudis, and against members of the Tour’s policy board who architected or support…
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