LIV Golf: Saudi sportswashing failed because LIV never earned golf’s trust – Paul Lewis

The Saudis, with all their wealth, misread the room. Golf has traditions, history, meaning, a moral code. LIV had … money. That is not to say new traditions cannot be forged but they must stem from a love of the sport, not loving the use of sport to help change perceptions, disguise human rights violations and enhance the sportswashing nation’s economy.

The Saudis’ boundless bankroll can’t create competition where there is none; it can’t establish tradition when all golf fans have to do is look at the PGA Tour: history and tradition aplenty. Legitimacy doesn’t come in a wallet; it must be carved out of sporting blood, sweat and tears. Dollars (and riyals) have currency but only when allied to respect, relevance, trust … and entertainment.

LIV’s failings were inherent in the very name. LIV is Roman numerals for 54, the number of holes the teams (many of which had juvenile, frat-boy names) played in quick-fire, no-cut tournaments, complete with loud music and other tactics to herald a new golf era. That was quickly shelved, moving to a 72-hole format, just like the PGA.

Its deficiencies were also seen when LIV golfers were permitted to play in the four golf majors (none administered or controlled by the PGA). The players had money, but craved legitimacy. Brooks Koepka (2023) and DeChambeau (2024) won majors – but no LIV golfer has since. Their form has generally withered over time. Smith, the brilliant young Australian who rose to No 2 in the world on the PGA Tour, joined Liv for about US$200m all up but his form in the majors since has been poor – when there is no real competition, there is no real relevance.

Sure, the Saudis are attempting to look after their future. One of the reasons for the continued focus on sport is that the nation needs to future-proof itself against the day when the oil runs out – by fostering tourism and reasons to visit. Fair enough.

You can also establish a case for players being romanced by the big bucks. Who wouldn’t shift employers when offered multiple times what they were earning? Well, plenty, if you factor in some conscience about which golf tour made you famous, wealthy and ripe to be plucked by the Saudis.

That led to perhaps the most intriguing element of LIV Golf – several players attempting to justify their defection for reasons other than money. “Growing the game” was one. “We are not politicians” another; two wouldn’t answer a question whether they would play golf for Vladimir Putin if he offered them enough money. Smith, refreshingly, said money was a factor.

Rahm famously criticised LIV’s format before suddenly defecting, after previously saying: “I want to play against the best in the world in a format that’s been going on for hundreds of years.”

Maybe the most bone-headed justification was that of Johnson, one of golf’s leading lights when he went to LIV. He said: “I don’t want to play golf the rest of my life, which I felt like I was probably going to have to do.” Poor chap. Imagine being chained to the drudgery of being an elite golf pro. Most fans would crawl over broken glass to have his skills and career. He had amassed career earnings of US$74m, then the third-highest in golf history. How much money does one man need?

Unwittingly, Johnson encapsulated LIV’s shortcomings. Like his quote above, it never quite made sense.

Paul Lewis writes about rugby, cricket, league, football, yachting, golf, the Olympics and Commonwealth Games.