It’s a hollow exercise to parse levels of cowardice in those eager to be stooges for autocratic sportswashers, but some of the players who went to LIV Golf when there was a cost for doing so — to reputations and careers — must now look at Jon Rahm as being the most gutless among their number, a golden parachutist who jumped for the greatest reward with the least risk, confident that a promised settlement of golf’s civil war would assure him a soft, lucrative landing.
Thursday’s announcement was drearily predictable, right down to LIV’s inept gaffe in trumpeting its recruitment of “John.” In citing his need to feather the family nest for future generations, the appeal of innovative formats and an overwhelming ambition to grow the game, Rahm checked every box in the bullshit bingo that attends all LIV signings.
Yet his is unlike any that preceded him.
Poaching Rahm is less about product than politics, aimed not so much at strengthening LIV as weakening the PGA Tour. Yasir Al-Rumayyan, chief bagman at the Saudi Arabian Public Investment Fund that bankrolls LIV, delivered a timely elbow to the ribs just as the Tour negotiates the extent to which PIF will factor with private equity in shaping its future. Rahm was vociferous in rejecting LIV, to the point of demeaning its format and value.
Buying that guy proves Al-Rumayyan can buy almost anyone. Tour members who consider him an unpalatable ally were reminded that he might be an even more unappetizing enemy.
LIV has consistently exposed the fatal weakness in professional golf: It is built on member organizations whose members are not contracted, and often not loyal. Cash offers go a long way when many of the targeted constituency have proven that their word isn’t worth a puddle of stale piss.
Rahm won’t suffer the excommunication and scorn that other LIV players experienced from former Tour colleagues. He’s too competitively relevant, he’s too well-liked, and the end is too near at hand. Witness Rory McIlroy saying that Ryder Cup eligibility rules would need to be rewritten to accommodate Rahm in ’25, a call he didn’t make on behalf of the likes of Sergio Garcia.
The departure of Rahm is more a loss for the PGA Tour than a gain for LIV. One of the world’s best will be absent from Tour events for the foreseeable. But it’s debatable how positively he impacts LIV beyond providing propaganda catnip for trolls and deal-making leverage for Al-Rumayyan. One can reasonably argue that Dustin Johnson, Brooks Koepka, Bryson DeChambeau and Phil Mickelson were more effective at engaging fans than Rahm, and they haven’t given LIV audience traction. The Spaniard’s jump could be more of a game-changer for the Tour’s internal debate than for the trajectory of LIV.
Jon Rahm of Spain and Rory McIlroy of Northern Ireland walk the second hole during a practice round prior to the 2022 U.S. Open at The Country Club on June 13, 2022, in Brookline, Massachusetts. (Photo by Warren Little/Getty Images)
It’s easy to cry hypocrisy given everything Rahm said previously, but that ignores the PGA Tour’s culpability. Rahm isn’t a LIV golfer just because the check got big enough. He’s there at least in part because the Tour signaled it was okay to be there, that one can do business with the Saudis. The June 6 Framework Agreement did two things that made for a lousy combination: it demolished all trust between PGA Tour leaders and members, and it legitimized the Saudi hijacking of golf, giving players a green light to kick the tires on LIV. The Tour may as well have rolled out a red carpet and pointed it toward the exit. Players will not be held to a standard of loyalty that the Tour itself failed to meet.
Rahm’s leaving shouldn’t be a surprise. Players guaranteed to be in majors, who are unconcerned with qualification criteria or world ranking points, are the most susceptible to LIV entreaties, especially when the Tour has already expressed a desire to end the division. Why not Wyndham Clark too? Or Brian Harman? If recent major champions don’t have ethical objections to LIV, what other risks do they face? The Framework Agreement is their permission slip.
Crunch time is coming for the player directors who drive decision-making on the Tour’s Policy Board. Will they now conclude that an imperfect peace with the Saudis is their best option, or does Rahm’s poaching harden sentiment against PIF among those who didn’t cash out? Whatever direction they chart, choppy waters lie ahead.
The PGA Tour is stumbling toward a business model that cannot be sustained simply because too many players are convinced their value is a multiple of what any market has ever dictated. There is a disheartening correlation between the irrational spending of the Saudis and the parallel expectations of PGA Tour members. Some players feel entitled to NBA or NFL money and — in a complete inversion of how the economics have always been in golf — they want to make that money on the course, not off, regardless of their engagement level with fans and sponsors.
Less than 24 hours after Rahm left the PGA Tour, so did Wells Fargo. The bank was unwilling to pay what is now demanded of sponsors to meet the expectations of players. The exit of a longtime sponsor — one that wished to remain in golf — should be more of an alarm call to Tour players than losing Rahm. It’s a deeply worrying sign that the PGA Tour is consuming itself because greed is masquerading as worth.