Remember when 1960s’ pop icon Andy Warhol issued his famous aphorism stating that in the future, everyone will be entitled to “15 minutes of fame”?
In 2022, we’d settle for 15 minutes of bliss.
Russia’s crimes against Ukraine have shaken our sensibilities. The ravages of climate change have our planet teetering on the brink. The growing gap between rich and poor is widening faster than the smile on the face of an early investor in Bitcoin.
All the isms that the counter-culture baby boomer generation found so abhorrent, (racism, sexism, ageism, fascism, communism, and rapacious capitalism) have now returned, viler than ever.
In mid-March 2020, it got worse. Covid-19 killed millions, tore-up economies, and gutted future prospects.
Golf was as unprepared for this as other industry sectors.
Yet, by “happy happenstance,” Covid saved our game.
The elements critics once identified as flaws are now pluses. A built-in social distancing element is piled on the physical and mental health benefits. Golf is an au naturel antidote to Covid.
This brings a degree of clarity to a game long stymied by an inept business model. The result: participation numbers have doubled and doubled again. A new wave of players – younger, more diverse – are flooding the tee sheets. The toughest shot in golf is trying to book a tee time. Even the business side looks as if it will never run out of fairway.
But wait… a long-time industry stalwart recently emailed me with his thoughts and said it’s time to ring the alarm bells.
He even provided his own aphorism (those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it) to explain himself.
Yes, golf has been there, done that – just the latest chapter in its boom-bust business cycle.
“The game did nothing to earn this extra revenue,” he added. “The things that turned people off about the business side of the game, remain intact today.”
The back nine of the 20th century saw golf’s business model grow exponentially. Boomers would do our Depression Era and war-ravaged parents one better. We were attracted to the game by its Everyman superstar Arnold Palmer, its challenges, its green quietude. Golf was a grassroots game and still affordable.
As boomers aged and grew richer, we flooded the game with disposable income. We hogged tee times, bought equipment, dressed like the pros. This orgy of excess topped out in our Middle Ages (the ‘80s and ‘90s) when a new portfolio of public-sector super-courses changed the game’s look and feel. These hybrid courses were monstrous mutations, with 30,000+ sq. ft. clubhouses that offered all the pomp and privileges of private club membership with the freedom and convenience of the pay-as-you-play model. A lucrative new revenue stream (high-end corporate tournaments) was rolled out with assembly-line efficiency, and a new sub-sector of the game flourished.
To most, it was unaffordable, and its owners put nothing back into the game: no junior programs, no tee times for women, no accommodation for the disabled. The gap between the rich and hoi polloi that fed on the game’s scraps (driving ranges, mini-putts, executive and muni courses) divided itself along affordability lines – much like society.
The next generation (millennials) showed little interest in this bastardized version of the game. The sport started to bleed participants. For those attending the giant PGA Merchandise Show in Orlando every January, this was THE story, and these plummeting numbers were deciphered at length when the annual Pellucid Report was issued. It proved to be an MRI of the industry. By the economic meltdown of 2008-09, disposable income (the lifeblood of the game) had dried up, and the loss of players quickened. By 2016, Pellucid predicted that in 10 years’ time, many of the boomers would no longer play – with no one to replace them.
Then came Covid, blessed Covid.
In January of this year, the Pellucid Perspective had a chapter entitled, “COVID succeeds where Tiger failed”.
It seems the virus did for the game what its first diverse superstar couldn’t do: grow it.
This conundrum isn’t lost on my industry insider.
Golf Canada continues to flail away trying to fulfill its mandate to “grow the game.” Its partnership with National Association of Golf Associations (NAGA) to measure the game’s business sector resulted in the first economic impact study. NAGA used this to try and arm-twist our parliamentarians into changing the tax laws so golf could get filed as a legitimate business expense. The fierce response from politicos and the public was near universal. Too many still perceived the game as a playpen for the 1 percenters.
Golf Canada has tried to build a model that refreshes the game with new participants. Future Links, Golf in Schools, Long-term Player Development, Youth on Course, High Performance, National Junior Development Centre, and the Canadian Junior Competitive Pathway are just part of a long list.
The results have been disappointing. Pulling the trigger on change has proven even more painful. It took until last fall for Golf Canada to team up with RBC (and American touring pro Harold Varner III) and unveil its Youth on Course and First Tee program. The idea is to “youthenize” the game and get BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour) to play the game. The sport needs some street cred in our major cities.
Golf Canada also sanctioned its first-ever All Abilities Championship.
Both initiatives beg the question: what took so long?
Jack Nicklaus once said golf “has to return to its roots”. That’s what is happening at its ancestral home. The Royal & Ancient Club of St. Andrews recently introduced #FOREeveryone, encouraging women and girls to play. It’s committed tore-doing its moribund business model and is currently building a community course in Glasgow which opens next year. It’s affordable, family friendly, owned by taxpayers, and wants to change the “unhelpful perception” of a game that to too many is still seen as bubble-wrapped in exclusion.
Covid-19 brought the world to its knees. It’s still unclear if it brought the overseers of golf in Canada to their senses.
I emailed my industry insider back with one follow-up question: Is golf’s latest growth spurt sustainable?
Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was tired of typing. Maybe he just rolled his eyes in frustration. The bottom line: he said nothing.
Which to me, said everything.
