September 1st, 2020.
For some of you, that date might hold a special significance. A birthday. An anniversary, perhaps. And for the rest of you? Maybe not. But for me? It was the last time I sat down and wrote about golf.
It was an ‘Oracles’ Fourball’ article for my previous site, ‘The Cheeky Nine’, wherein I was previewing the upcoming Tour Championship, the finale to that particular season’s FedEx Cup. Now, to save you the trouble of Googling it, the answer to the question, “Who did win the FedEx Cup in 2020?”, that you’re currently asking yourself is Dustin Johnson – the man who will forever and always hold the distinction of being the only person to ever win the Masters in November.
The bizarre parallel dimension that was the COVID years.
As opposed to being a nostalgic trip down memory lane, however, the point I’m trying to make is that all of that was five years ago. Five. And because I have been otherwise preoccupied with writing books, I’ll openly admit that, in that time, I have become a decidedly passive observer when it comes to the world of golf – an orbiting satellite doing the occasional fly-by rather than having actual boots on the ground. Of course, there’s always been a handful of things that have lured me, however temporarily, back into golf. The LIV fallout. Major winners. Ryder Cups. Rory cementing his status as the best golfer of the post-Tiger era. All of them just enough to demand a fleeting look here or a lingering gaze there.
Yet, with golf having just entered its quasi-hibernation following the recent conclusion to the ‘Race to Dubai’, as I sit here now, trying to formulate an opinion on the golfing landscape as I currently find it, I can’t help but find it a touch conflicting. Because, on the one hand, the excellent news is that, in the past five years, golf has been riding the crest of a significant wave in terms of a reignited sense of popularity and interest.
Participation numbers have been going up worldwide since COVID reminded people that it’s actually ok to have hobbies. The number of people attending golf tournaments has, on the whole, been increasing steadily – both on the PGA and European Tours. Television ratings have been climbing back up to the kind of figures sponsors like to see. And given the obvious proliferation of golf-centred accounts on Instagram and TikTok, not to mention the fact that the golfing ecosystem on YouTube now sees several channels pulling in millions of views and subscribers, the game has never been more visible on social media.
Yet, it’s the latter of those very same ‘positives’ that leads me directly to that aforementioned conflict. Because, right now, it feels as though golf is at something of a crossroads; one that, for the longest time, we’ve actually been slowly marching towards – never rushing there, but inevitably destined to reach nonetheless. But ever since those ugly scenes we watched play out at Bethpage, those that partially marred what was otherwise one of the most thrilling Ryder Cups we’ve witnessed in recent years, that same ‘slow march’ has turned into an all-out sprint, one expediting our arrival at this exact moment in time where the pursuit of views and virality has seen golfing culture stray worryingly far from, what I believe to be, is it’s true ethos.
Because, look, golf has always suffered from something of an image problem – we know that. The idea of stuffy, ultra-exclusive country clubs? Ones that are filled with these cartoonishly obnoxious individuals? I mean, how many movies from the 80’s and 90’s can you remember where someone who played golf was parodied as some lame, old snob clad head-to-toe in argyle, and with socks up to their knees? Well, whilst the apparel in that particular vision has probably changed from patterned sweater vests and plus-fours to beige shorts and a three-quarter zip sweater (which I wholeheartedly stand by as a perfectly acceptable autumn golf look, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise), going on the majority of golf #content I see flashing across my phone now, were you not a golfer? You couldn’t be blamed for thinking that your stereotypical golfer is a bolshie, overgrown fraternity bro with a mild gambling addiction, anger issues, and the same belief that “roasting” people is the absolute pinnacle of humour as did Comedy Central in the mid-2010s.
Now, am I tarring everybody with an incredibly broad brush? Yes. Because, of course, there are talented creators in the golf space – the likes of Erik Anders Lang, for example, coming first to mind. And, look, far be it from me to yuck somebody else’s yums either. If you enjoy the kind of golf content that I referenced above? Then that’s perfectly fine, more power to you.
But for those of you growing tired of the same old schtick? Or, what’s worse, finding it increasingly difficult to recognise the game that you love in amongst the clickbait titles, gaudy thumbnails, and reality TV-tier drama? I’m here to offer you an alternative. Because, at varying stages in my life thus far, golf has been incredibly important to me. Foundational, even. Summers spent playing pitch and putt three times a day when I was fourteen. That unmatched sense of peace that is playing golf before the greenskeepers have even arrived at the course, where my only playing partners are the swallows circling my feet as I walk down the fairway. Golf has always been more than just a game. Always. Even when I look back now and see the impact that deciding to do ‘Cheeky Nine’ back in 2019 had on my life, it’s easily the best decision that I ever made.
So, for all those reasons – and many more that the fear of a bloated word count prevent me from mentioning here – I’m back.
I’m back because I love golf.
I’m back because I love writing about golf.
And I’m back because I want to share what it is that makes this game so special to me.
The history. The challenge.
THE HONOUR.
