What’s Going On With Golf?

What’s going on in golf?

golf

by  Keith Allison 

Golf is a sport that has reached a mature stage in life and all of a sudden doesn’t seem to know quite what to do next. It might be a bit late to call it a mid-life crisis, but a sport which for a few short years was rendered borderline sexy by Tiger Woods is now slipping back into the sort of quiet, well-heeled cul-de-sac that characterised it before the Tiger Revolution.

There is no doubt that the contemporary fate of the game and that of Tiger are inextricably intertwined. He may be ranked as low as 104 in the official world rankings and his own playing future may be far from assured, but the weight of sponsorship dollars suggests that Woods is still the go-to man when it comes to golf. Despite barely having swung a club in competitive anger in the past twelve months, Woods is still the sixth most commercially bankable athlete in world sport with a commercial income exceeding $60 million, according to Forbes Magazine.The old cliché about no one athlete being bigger than the sport is certainly tested to the full when it comes to Tiger Woods.

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by  Keith Allison 

Declining participation

But as a rich man’s (and woman’s) sport, the impact of the economic downturn has put the brakes on what seemed at one stage to be an insatiable demand for golf around the world. In the UK, for example, golf courses are closing at the rate of one a week, as reduced playing numbers make themselves felt in terms of reduced club memberships and fewer casual golfers paying to play on an occasional basis. The bottom line is that golf clubs are closing and their courses are being irrecoverably turned over to housing or commercial development.

Admittedly the UK is relatively well supplied with courses. It is estimated that there is a course for every 28,000th head of population in the England and Wales, compared with one for every 112,000 in France and 114,000 for Germany (the ratio for Scotland – the home of golf – is 1: 9,800). But whilst the figures are suggestive, they do not reflect the way that golf’s problems extend beyond the simple question of economics.

golf

by  dennisborn 

Media disconnect

There is a growing disconnect between the ultra-competitive high end of the professional sport and the recreational lifeblood of the sport. As the furore over the BBC’s loss of broadcasting rights to the British Open highlighted last year, golf remains a much sought after TV product. There is a huge audience for televised golf at the highest level. The mix of personalities and perfect swings offered by the likes of Rory McIlroy and his rivals make an ideal sporting drama for armchair fans. Likewise, the bookmakers do a brisk trade on fans’ willingness to back their heroes with cold hard cash. Top flight golf betting remains a bookmaking media staple.

But in terms of ordinary people’s leisure time pursuits, golf is slipping down the list. There is a widely held argument that the real cause for the decline in participation in golf is the lack of large chunks of leisure time that people have access to. A round of golf, plus the associated travel and social commitments, can easily take up a full day. A half- day would be a notably fast turnaround. A dart out to a driving range is more in keeping with the pace of modern life.

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by  stmunchins 

A generational paradox

But this argument misses out on one of the key features of golf and its place in our society. Whilst Tiger Woods’ impact was notable for the way it encouraged youngsters to take up the game as never before, it is easy to forget that the game has always been the province of a more mature constituency. Golf clubs are famously the preserve of men of a certain age. Golf has only fleetingly ever been a young man’s game. The youthful panache provided by the likes of Woods and his heirs has always been the exception rather than the rule. The celebration of such young tyros has been as much about a middle aged fantasy of what might have been as it has been any sporting drama per se. And this is what points up a paradox in the demise of golf as a participation sport.

At a time when the retired portion of the population is as numerous as it has ever been, and more to the point, when that section is the one enjoying a better standard of living than ever before, it would be logical to expect that golf club memberships were on the rise. You would have thought that all those men of a certain age, with their healthy pensions and their abundant equity would like nothing better than to mingle with like-minded souls in the cosy and closely manicured arenas of the nation’s golf clubs and courses. There is no shortage of those who have taken early retirement, who still have their health, a taste for gentle exercise and a keen competitive appetite.

But this does not seem to be happening. This is the real mystery of golf’s contemporary demise.

An accidental turn off

Could it be that the limelight thrust upon the likes of Rory McIlroy, Ian Poulter and their Ryder Cup colleagues works as a turn off to precisely the constituency they are supposed to be appealing to? Is it possible that somehow the game of golf – seduced no doubt by the Tiger Effect – is slowly and painfully making itself unpalatable to the very constituency that sustainted it throughtout the 20th century?

There is no equivalent golfing metaphor for shooting yourself in the foot. But it does seem that in the excitement  to celebrate golf as somehow macho, go-getting and up beat the game has developed a kind of middle aged and thoroughly paradoxical identity crisis. It has become a game for the old, played and competed for by the young; a game for a moneyed elite, targeted at the man in the street.

There is perhaps no sadder indictment of the current mini crisis in which the game finds itself than in the public scorn and contempt in which the ailing Tiger Woods now finds himself. The collapse in his game has been cruelly lampooned and derided by people who have never come near his level of ability – even at his stricken worst.

There are minority trends that go against the gloomy grain described here. Women’s golf is increasingly well represented and there are a highly promising number of younger female golfers emerging – especially in China and the Far East. In fact, in China the game is growing at a remarkable rate. The picture there is incredibly complex and deserves its own fully fledged treatment, but clearly to simply declare that golf is on the wane is to offer a distinctly one-eyed view of the situation. Around the world the game continues to thrive.

golf

by  Fevi in Pictures 

A last chance

With the US Masters just around the corner and Tiger Woods still hoping to compete, there is still scope for golf’s western talisman to galvanise interest in the sport once more. There is a certain grandeur to tales of great champions who refuse to bow their heads to the inevitable. If Woods were to return to the top echelon of the sport once more it would be one of the more remarkable sporting stories of recent times. In doing so it would also give the game of golf another dramatic impetus.

Until that happens, exactly who might be inspired to take to their local course will remain a matter for conjecture. That is always assuming that those local courses have not been turned into housing estates by the time those casual players go hunting for their clubs in the back of the garage.

 

 

Tiger Woods and His Caddy: What did you call me?

I’m not black. It’s something I’ve come to terms with over the years. Many hours huddled over an old tape machine working out what James Brown was saying haven’t altered the hue of my dermis one iota. I have, however, been the victim of racial abuse. My time living amongst the Catalans of Eastern Spain was spent mainly pouring drinks and waiting tables and, to a small degree, ducking flying dog pooh and watching my underwear burn on the washing line. The locals were happy for me to serve them food and drinks as long as I didn’t look at any women or make eye contact with any of the big fat patriarchs. I was spat at and, on several occasions, had pool water flicked at me by a local boy while his father looked from beyond his obesity and smiled with whimsical pride. It inspired me to work my way through a host of covert ‘relations’ with the local females like the local tap water worked its way through me- quickly, quietly and with no intention of producing anything solid. I also became far less likely to develop testicular cancer throughout that time as I would check myself thoroughly several times a day just prior to arranging the food of those engorged and ignorant patriarchs.

In that particular area there is a large and proud nazi movement- I would say ‘underground’ nazi movement but it was about as well hidden as the London Eye. [You’ll notice I have refused to give it a capital ‘N’- I don’t do it with the ‘G’ of god so these shaved fools can whistle!] Local boys, preparing for their national service, would sit at the bar practicing their hitler salutes and showing off any nazi memorabilia they managed to buy like I used to show off my football stickers. We had a black cook at the time, she was North African and looked like she possessed a cartoon cat and a fear of mice. She was told to stay out of sight because the locals would eat elsewhere if they knew their food had been prepared by a ‘black devil’ for fear they would explode into flames or their penises would wilt and fall off from the poison she secreted through her every pore. I used to hug her whenever any of them ventured round the back to retrieve the drugs or porn mags they kept by the bins away from their catholic fathers.

Eventually, they put black and white together and got ‘food poisoning’, or at least enough of an accusation of it that she was dismissed and they returned to sit and gloat and wheeze in their sweaty, dated ways and I had to develop a itchy sphincter and a penchant for elasticated waistbands.

Prior to Spain, I had hated racism for purely moral reasons. It was all about fairness and equality and rights. My time there showed me the real face of racism though and that was just plain and simple ignorance.

Now, we’re all ignorant of many things- appropriate punctuation in my case? But this is different, this is intentional and that’s what makes it so nasty. To choose not to understand something, or someone, for no reason other than the sure knowledge that it will upset your comfy little existence, is the act of a coward. It’s the kind of ignorance that you have you really want, and the only thing that makes someone work that hard is fear.

Fast forward to the present day and we finally have the two reasons I’m telling you all this: an argument and a caddie.

The caddie should need no introduction if you’ve been reading the papers lately… but I’ll tell you anyway. Tiger Woods’ former caddie, Steve Williams called him a ‘black ——-‘. I’ve written it like that because that’s how the press printed it but there isn’t a nickel-plated cheque book and pen up for grabs so don’t bother working out the second word. It’s the first word that’s the problem and it’s a problem that I was arguing about just a week before this incident made the headlines. I’ve argued the same point on various internet forums since too because of allegations against footballers and their use of the same word.

I’m not here to explain what’s wrong with racism in general because everyone knows that- even the racists. Even Terre Blanche would look away or find an imaginary bogey when confronted by the sheer illogicality of his views like a creationist in the Natural History museum. I’m here to explain a very specific point. Here’s what has been asked of me recently in various forms:
“Why is it racist to call someone a black ‘anything’ when they are, in fact, actually black and don’t consider being referred to as black an insult?”

The first person I argued with about this had started by asking why he couldn’t call ‘them’ niggers because, ‘if they can call it each other then why can’t we?’ And I had to pipe the definition of ‘context’ into his brain like an asthmatic inflating a bouncy castle. More recent, and more considered, views have been along the lines of, “But it’s not racist to call a black person ‘black’!”

Greg Norman, who’s nickname is, I’m sure, just a reference to his predatory golfing style, has said that Williams isn’t a racist. He said that Williams thought he was in a ‘restricted environment’ when he made the kind of ‘stupid comment’ we all make from time to time, and that ‘far heavier’ things were said that night. Well that’s cleared that up, thanks Greg… except, ignoring the fact that, in just the same way a falling tree will ALWAYS make a noise regardless of who’s listening, a word retains it’s meaning regardless of where it is said or to whom and should never be judged based on the relative ‘weight’ of other comments, as if it’s ok to punch someone as long as they’re already being stabbed in the kidneys by someone else. And not even mentioning the fact that ‘we’ don’t all make comments like that from time to time, there is just one thing I’d like to pick you up on.

He is a racist.

This isn’t my opinion, it’s a fact gleaned from precisely the thing he did.
It’s like when family and friends of murderers are interviewed and they say, “He’s just a regular bloke, he’s not a murderer.” Well, I’m sorry but that murder he just committed kind of means he is. I don’t care if he spent his childhood helping old ladies cross roads and healing sick puppies. It’s not a political viewpoint, it’s not a personality trait. It’s a definition of someone who murders.

Now I’m not, for a second, comparing Williams racism to murder, I’m just pointing out that if one does a thing, intentionally and without external pressures to do so, then one becomes a doer of that thing.

So, back to the big question- why does dropping ‘black’ into an insult to someone who is black make you a racist in the first place?

It boils down to this: When we are insulting someone, we are choosing words that WE consider derogatory. It’s what insults are made of, words that demonstrate what WE consider to be bad about the other person. If you were having a blazing row with someone called Dave you wouldn’t say, “You stupid person called Dave!” Because it would be a ridiculous insult. Being called Dave isn’t a bad thing to anyone, even you who hate his guts, so you would never consider including it. More pertinently, I’ve been called everything you can imagine by some very nasty people but I’ve never been called a ‘white’ anything. Why? Because I’ve never been insulted by anyone who considers being white to be a bad thing and, therefore, worthy of inclusion in their little list of what makes me lesser than them. Even those pointless little Spanish Nazis couldn’t hate my colour because it was the same as theirs so ‘black’ becomes ‘English’ or just ‘foreign’. Anything really that they weren’t and which, therefore, according to the rules that help them sleep at night, must be shit.

Tiger woods has any number of qualities Williams could have picked out. Qualities that are personal to only him but it was the colour of his skin- something he shares with millions of people and that it is physically impossible to use to upset someone, that Williams decided to open with.

Calling someone a ‘black’ something when you’re insulting them is saying that being black is a bad thing to be. It’s the same as calling someone a ‘stupid’ something or a ‘heartless’ something or an ‘ignorant’ something and yet it’s a lot worse. Worse because people, as individuals, can be stupid, heartless and ignorant and they are bad things to be. These insults are based on the actions of the individual and reflect your personal view of them.
Nobody told Williams to use the word and he could have chosen any other but he felt that it was what he considers bad about Tiger Woods. He made a racist remark intentionally, and without external pressures to do so… which makes him a maker of racist remarks… otherwise known as…