Here’s a question to get the grey matter clanking and grinding into life this weekend. Have you ever heard of Takanakuy?
No, it’s not the name of one of the Egyptian mummies, but is, in fact, an ancient Peruvian tradition which helps wipe a variety of slates clean using the calm, measured diplomacy of physical violence.
At the start of each year, the good folk in the provinces of Cusco engage in a series of ceremonial punch-ups as a means of settling all sorts of grudges and grievances that have built up over the past 12 months.
It sounds a bit like a meeting between the members and the handicapping committee at the local golf club.
Apparently, all this cathartic thwacking, thumping, biffing and battering helps to foster a sense of camaraderie and strengthens
the bonds in the community.
Once everybody has clocked a few sore ones and buried one or two hatchets, all and sundry come together to drink and celebrate.
One wonders if this Takanakuy lark will be used in the world of golf as those defectors to the LIV Golf circuit continue to return to the PGA Tour and DP World Tour with tails — and suitcases of cash — between their legs.
Imagine that? Rory McIlroy landing a bunch of fives on LIV rebel Ian Poulter’s nose before the pair of them trudge off arm-in-arm for a reconciliatory pint?
You’re probably all aware by now of the latest developments surrounding LIV and its not-so-certain future.
After the Saudi Arabian Public Investment Fund pulled the plug on its preposterous investment back in April – over $5 billion had been burned through since the breakaway circuit’s inception in 2022 – LIV’s top brass filed for bankruptcy protection as they attempt to restructure and plough on with new investment.
Most folk are probably thinking the remains of LIV should just be mummified and shoved in an empty sarcophagus at the Kelvingrove. As long as the curators get consent from relatives of the deceased, of course.
But those behind the rebel series remain determined to get LIV 2.0 up and running next season even though most of its star names are, well, off and running now that the gravy train has hit the buffers.
Jon Rahm agreed to a separation from LIV earlier this month and sacrificed some $75 million to cut loose.
Given his initial contract was rumored to be a mind-boggling $300 million, though, I’m sure he’ll muddle on through the winter. Maybe just one bar on the electric fire, Jon?
The exodus has continued with the likes of Tyrrell Hatton, Sergio Garcia, Louis Oosthuizen, Tom McKibbin and the aforementioned Poulter all abandoning the sinking ship. At this rate, LIV will be appearing in the Pictorial Guide to Maritime Wrecks.
The issue of players returning from whence they came is nuanced and controversial. The DP World Tour will benefit from star attractions, who still have tour status, reappearing but rolling out the welcome mat with invitations to any Tom, Dick and Harry from LIV has gone down like a sack of spanners in some quarters.
“Four years ago, they didn’t give a s*** about the DP World Tour,” said tour stalwart Joost Luiten in Today’s Golfer.
“They made a decision to go after the money. And now all of a sudden, the money is gone and they want to come back and act like nothing happened.”
Many loyal, rank-and-file members, fearing the impact on their own playing opportunities, would agree with Luiten’s remarks.
As for those clinging to the LIV dream? Well, according to reports, some 15 players have tentatively committed to LIV 2.0 as of Sunday’s deadline while only four - Richard Bland, Cameron Tringale, Brendan Steele and Ben Campbell – have publicly declared their LIV loyalty.
No disrespect, but that quartet are hardly going to get pulses racing. Apparently, Bryson DeChambeau, LIV’s most valuable asset, is still keen to get LIV 2.0 off the ground.
The polarizing DeChambeau has always registered with a different golf audience. He was, in many ways, a perfect fit for the initial LIV movement.
But one man can’t prop up an entire league that’s already lost most of its biggest names and some of its original staunch supporters. What really is the point of it going on?
LIV barged its way onto the scene in 2022, and its siren song enriched its players with unfathomable and unhinged sums.
Golf’s traditional organizations were compromised, and the men’s professional game became fractured and consumed by division, rancour, sportswashing, litigation, self-interest, whataboutery, petulance, greed and entitlement. I must have missed something out in there?
To its credit, LIV gained plenty of traction in underserved golfing heartlands like South Africa and Australia, while its emergence did force a hitherto complacent, cocky and comfortable PGA Tour into a structural shake-up it desperately needed.
But the reputational damage to the game, and some of those in it, during this turbulent era has been considerable and we shouldn’t forget that.
Players who joined the LIV rebellion and spouted the wearisome “grow the game” mantra when they did are now slinking back to a golfing world they were happy to wreck.
LIV’s original, disruptive slogan was “Golf, But Louder.” All that noise, eh? And for what?
Nick Rodger is the golf correspondent for the Scotland Herald, part of USA Today Co.
This article originally appeared on Golfweek: When it's all said and done, was LIV Golf louder or just noise? | Opinion
