Money Fore Nothing, Clicks Ain’t Free

Dinero. Greenbacks. Benjamins. Ca-Ching. Chump Change. Coin. Cabbage. Bacon.

Money. There’s a million ways to say it and a million ways to make it, but one thing never changes, and that is that sooner or later it all comes down to money.

To say that America is a bit money mad might seem to some a bit pejorative, to others a bit redundant, and to still others a bit of an understatement.

But let’s face it, money finds it way into virtually every interaction we have with the game of golf. Oh yes, we are talking about the game of golf here. And when golf’s leading professional organization speaks about money, it doesn’t talk, it screams.

“Money doesn’t talk, it swears” - Bob Dylan.

And that seems to be exactly what it did earlier this month when, in a move that seems both incomprehensible, not to mention slightly sickening to the boys gathered on the first tee at Montauk Downs earlier this week, the PGA Tour announced it would be “awarding” and distributing a $40 million bonus payout to the top 10 “needle movers” amongst the 250 players who currently tee it up on tour.

Well, not exactly. The money will be going, as money tends to go, to those who already garner a great deal of it.

This move begs a lot of questions, so many that it makes it difficult to pick a place to start. After throwing numbers into a golf hat, here’s what Local Links drew as first on the tee. Where the heck does one just happen to find an unused $40 million lying around to reward “good behavior”?

I seem to recall Sister Mary Francis Kathleen having kept a small supply of Junior Mints in her desk drawer, which she would on occasion bestow like a secular communion on some goody two shoes who had gone to the blackboard and properly demonstrated the use of the reciprocal in the division of fractions. Junior Mints, maybe. But $40 million?

Whatever the Tour’s intention may have been, the resulting consequences of this decision have resulted in the urban dictionary definition of “bad optics.” It has fundamentally transformed the role of its independent contractors from “athletes who perform” into “performers who are athletic.”

Gone are the days of the Vijays and the Chois, the Tiger and the Hawk, all dedicated range rats, and here instead are the days of endless hours of “tweeting” and “gramming,” “Facebook posting” and “purpose driven posturing.”

Tour players will be adding to their already burgeoning roster of coaches and trainers, masseuses, and manicurists, a decidedly un-athletic rota of “influencer advisors,” “keyboard consultants,” and “metrics masters.”

Golf, as it is presently being experienced in these United States, is a game clearly involved with, if not addicted to, length. Longer drives have led to longer courses, and everything, from computer driven flight monitors to spiral bound greens books have led to longer rounds.

The PGA Tour is not exempt from this addiction, only in its case the addiction would appear to be to the long game. The long money game. Fresh off a recent $700 million contract with its TV network partners, the Tour has money to spend, and it is thinking of going long, and going deep.

The “Money for Metrics” program is surely not aimed at those who follow or are eligible for the “Fat Belly Tour” as the former Seniors, now Champions Tour, is sometimes referred to. So it is not likely that you will be finding Tom Watson or Steve Stricker, hunched over an iPhone looking to brush up on their Twitter technique.

No, the metrics money target audience is what might be referred to as “generation next,” a marketing program directed at expending the game’s engagement (while simultaneously generating a long stream revenue) with a younger, and presumably more easily distracted demographic.

Apparently, scantily clad cheerleaders were considered at the strategy conference down in Ponte Verde, but the idea was said to have been tabled. Not scrapped, mind you, merely tabled. After watching the Tour go gambling with gambling and now going gaming with “gramming,” we’re not ruling anything out just yet.

And what, you may ask, will be the effect of this metrics performance reward system be on you, the local golfer?

(Forgive me, here, a moment, as I almost wrote local “linkster,” which came to mind along with an image of Bubba Smith, the late great defensive end for the Baltimore Colts. Smith, dressed in plus fours and accompanied by HOF coach Mike Ditka, was at the time (1979) schilling for Miller Lite, extolling its post round, low calorie virtues, and was quoted as saying “…and us linksters drink Lite beer from Miller.” I don’t believe I had ever heard the term before, nor do I think, have I heard it since. But such is the power of advertising.)

And advertising is where you will be seeing much of the effect of the PGA Tour’s decision to reward the entertainers in its ranks. Conspiracy theory is, well, best left to conspiracy theorists and their devotees, but it is difficult not to draw a direct line through the Tour’s PIP (Player Impact Program) and its recent decision to endorse and co-sponsor gambling.

Also worth noting is the unstated but evident loosening of the “logo rule” which for years restricted players from wearing multiple sponsor logos on their clothing. It would appear that nine is the new par for this course with players now sporting four endorsements on a cap, and five (left and right chest, both sleeves and back collar) on a shirt.

Although we have not yet seen the M&M’s jumpsuit, it is only a matter of time before Bryson DeChambeau on the first tee at Pebble Beach is mistaken for Kurt Busch at the Charlotte Motor Speedway.

In an evolving strategy to counter noise pollution, Local Links has taken to watching golf on television with the sound off. With the current look of the direction the “look” of the game is taking, we may just have to go to reading about golf in the newspaper, or god forbid, a book.

Ball’s in the air at eight, don’t be late.