The next Jack Nicklaus must spring from somewhere in the decades to come, but it seems unlikely he will come from the den of the Golden Bear himself.
Last December, Nicklaus, speaking at an event in Orlando, Fla., said, “I’ve got 22 grandkids and only one who really plays golf. The other ones can play, but they have no real interest in it. They all play everything else.”
Pause for the briefest moment and ponder the statistical kick in the pastel pants that revelation represents. If the greatest player who ever lived can only get 4.5 percent of the young’uns in his own family to take golf seriously, what chance is there to spread the game among all the kids with regular, daily-fee names?
One wonders, then: Who owns the soul of golf and thus its future?
Television viewership is solid, now that Tiger Woods is fully a factor again. Ratings from his victory at Doral this year were up 42 percent from the year before. There is a cult of personality that still can thrive in High Def.
Yet play has been on the decline — the National Golf Foundation has reported a steady downward slope in number of golfers and rounds played since the mid-2000s. That is a real disconnect. Viewers are voyeurs, curious until something shinier comes along to claim their attention. Players are the real lifeblood of the game.
Who owns golf’s soul? What every golf telecast tells us is that it must be the big-headed-driver industrial complex. Drivers drive the game. Rocket-powered golf balls fuel it.
The arms race to hit the ball farther is one more expensive proposition in a game that already is priced beyond the means of many.
Oh, great, here comes bigger, better club that just made obsolete the one you bought yesterday. It has the shelf life of your iPhone.
The current fight over the long putter is instructive. The lords of the game in the old country want the things gone. The PGA Tour has stated its opposition to the ban. Here is a classic stand-off between values and merchandise. I’ve chosen my winner on this side of the pond — I’m taking the equipment side and giving the points.
Then I’m running out and buying a new hybrid club that I don’t even need. In fact, I don’t even play anymore.
It is difficult to watch the parade of equipment commercials on a golf telecast and see the next generation warming to the idea of spending their next four years’ allowance on the latest super driver.
Those aren’t all the ads, of course. But I don’t think the Cialis commercials are going to do much to get the kids flocking back to the game, either.
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