- Joined
- May 8, 2002
- Posts
- 1,152,267
- Reaction score
- 59
NEWTOWN SQUARE, Pa. — A casual observer of Wednesday’s press conference by Terry Clark, the PGA of America’s new CEO, might have noted his relaxed, scholarly mien and focus on questions of identity and concluded that he’d simply taken a wrong turn into Aronimink Golf Club on the way to his job as a professor at Bryn Mawr.
Identity is a complex and combustible topic, even in sport, and especially for a newly appointed leader. For most entities, identity is mostly inherited, with a schmear of recency bias shaping the current hot takes, and not a lot of leeway to influence future perceptions (at least not positively). Clark’s inherited concern is the PGA Championship, which identifies as a major but often doesn’t feel, look or act like one.
The first PGA Championship was contested 21 years after the inaugural U.S. Open and 18 years before the Masters, and despite beginning a half-century after the British Open, it enjoyed a half-century head start on drawing fields with more shot-makers than part-time shepherds. Yet it is resolutely the runt of the major litter, which is an identity in itself, though hardly prized.
More: Our PGA Championship hub: Videos, stories, scores and more
Clark outlined three factors that he believes shape the perception of the PGA Championship: its strength of field, variety of venues, and consistency of course set-up. All are defensible positions, but at least two of his listed assets could be presented as liabilities. Let’s leave aside strength of field, since it does boast an enviable quality of competitor annually, even as it endures the absence of Talor ****** for a second straight year.
“This is the 108th edition. We've been at 75 different venues,” Clark said. “That variety of venues and the test that creates, new styles and old styles, we think is really, really unique.”
By comparison, the U.S. Open has been staged at 52 courses, the Open on 14, and the Masters on one. But this is really a matter of quality, not quantity. For every PGA Championship at Baltusrol or Oak Hill (or the upcoming Olympic Club), there are a handful of venues that are decidedly pedestrian. Valhalla. Bellerive. Hazeltine National. Crooked Stick. Kemper Lakes. And, lest we forget, PGA National in ’87 (Larry Nelson was a fitting winner, given his prior combat experience in a sweltering swamp).
And that’s not even allowing for next year’s trip to Frisco, Texas, where even the fondness that exists for architect Gil Hanse won’t forestall the sniping and griping.
Course set-up is another shaky hook upon which Clark hung his hat. Kerry Haigh is the PGA of America’s chief championship officer. He’s respected, but not revolutionary. During last year’s event at Quail Hollow in Charlotte, Haigh said a goal for the week was having players “enjoy” the course, a paternalistic metric to apply when a major test ought to be so excruciating that even the winner doesn’t really enjoy it. But one way to have competitors enjoy things is to give them what is familiar, which leads to course set-ups that, while never controversial, tilt toward bland. This is only exacerbated when the PGA Championship pitches up at venues that are also PGA Tour stops, making it even more difficult to distinguish this tournament from the weekly fare. (Rory McIlroy noted that the fairway mowing lines at Quail Hollow were the same as at the annual Tour stop). That is a significant part of the identity problem.
Those are fixable issues, of course, and Clark told Golfweek he’s also examining how the Australian Open transformed itself from the lowliest tennis slam to being the most engaging, fun stop for both players and spectators — useful ground to stake out for a ‘grow the game’ entity. He won’t (and shouldn’t) debate the “when,” since the current May date versus the former August is immaterial. But the PGA Championship is hostage to the same pecking order of priorities that dominates the host organization. It’s not fans at the top of the pyramid, nor even players. It’s the officer class of the PGA of America.
They occupy the prime hospitality suite by the 18th green, while commercial partners make do elsewhere. They jockey for position at the trophy presentation Sunday evening, making it challenging to find space for both winner and Wanamaker. They enjoy inside the ropes access. They often have enough family members in tow to hold a reunion. And then there’s the reported compensation and reimbursed travel and dining expenses that, according to one informed source, run well into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. But this week brought one signal that Clark intends to mitigate the ingrained culture of officer entitlement.
Like the Masters, the PGA Championship holds a dinner for past winners. Unlike the Masters, the guest list long included board members and spouses, and sundry other invitees — about 50 folks in total who’d never won a PGA Championship. Clark presided over his first dinner on Tuesday night and put the focus firmly on the actual champions. PGA of America attendees were limited to Clark and the vice-president, Nathan Charnes. Pity the luckless barkeep at some upscale Philadelphia hotel who was overrun with blazered bigwigs with nowhere to go.
Clark cut a cautious figure in his first public outing as CEO, but he’s an astute leader and cognizant of the challenges ahead. Some of those are external — the ball rollback issue, for example — but the most vexing will be internal. The PGA of America’s president, Don Rea Jr., has been exiled for his buffoonery, but this remains a trade association in which perks are hard-earned and jealously protected. Addressing the core nature of the organization must be step one to addressing the identity of its major championship.
Eamon Lynch is a columnist for Golfweek and a frequent contributor to Golf Channel.
This article originally appeared on Golfweek: PGA Championship’s identity problem isn’t about where, when but who
Continue reading...
Identity is a complex and combustible topic, even in sport, and especially for a newly appointed leader. For most entities, identity is mostly inherited, with a schmear of recency bias shaping the current hot takes, and not a lot of leeway to influence future perceptions (at least not positively). Clark’s inherited concern is the PGA Championship, which identifies as a major but often doesn’t feel, look or act like one.
You must be registered for see images attach
The first PGA Championship was contested 21 years after the inaugural U.S. Open and 18 years before the Masters, and despite beginning a half-century after the British Open, it enjoyed a half-century head start on drawing fields with more shot-makers than part-time shepherds. Yet it is resolutely the runt of the major litter, which is an identity in itself, though hardly prized.
More: Our PGA Championship hub: Videos, stories, scores and more
Clark outlined three factors that he believes shape the perception of the PGA Championship: its strength of field, variety of venues, and consistency of course set-up. All are defensible positions, but at least two of his listed assets could be presented as liabilities. Let’s leave aside strength of field, since it does boast an enviable quality of competitor annually, even as it endures the absence of Talor ****** for a second straight year.
“This is the 108th edition. We've been at 75 different venues,” Clark said. “That variety of venues and the test that creates, new styles and old styles, we think is really, really unique.”
You must be registered for see images
By comparison, the U.S. Open has been staged at 52 courses, the Open on 14, and the Masters on one. But this is really a matter of quality, not quantity. For every PGA Championship at Baltusrol or Oak Hill (or the upcoming Olympic Club), there are a handful of venues that are decidedly pedestrian. Valhalla. Bellerive. Hazeltine National. Crooked Stick. Kemper Lakes. And, lest we forget, PGA National in ’87 (Larry Nelson was a fitting winner, given his prior combat experience in a sweltering swamp).
And that’s not even allowing for next year’s trip to Frisco, Texas, where even the fondness that exists for architect Gil Hanse won’t forestall the sniping and griping.
Course set-up is another shaky hook upon which Clark hung his hat. Kerry Haigh is the PGA of America’s chief championship officer. He’s respected, but not revolutionary. During last year’s event at Quail Hollow in Charlotte, Haigh said a goal for the week was having players “enjoy” the course, a paternalistic metric to apply when a major test ought to be so excruciating that even the winner doesn’t really enjoy it. But one way to have competitors enjoy things is to give them what is familiar, which leads to course set-ups that, while never controversial, tilt toward bland. This is only exacerbated when the PGA Championship pitches up at venues that are also PGA Tour stops, making it even more difficult to distinguish this tournament from the weekly fare. (Rory McIlroy noted that the fairway mowing lines at Quail Hollow were the same as at the annual Tour stop). That is a significant part of the identity problem.
You must be registered for see images
Those are fixable issues, of course, and Clark told Golfweek he’s also examining how the Australian Open transformed itself from the lowliest tennis slam to being the most engaging, fun stop for both players and spectators — useful ground to stake out for a ‘grow the game’ entity. He won’t (and shouldn’t) debate the “when,” since the current May date versus the former August is immaterial. But the PGA Championship is hostage to the same pecking order of priorities that dominates the host organization. It’s not fans at the top of the pyramid, nor even players. It’s the officer class of the PGA of America.
They occupy the prime hospitality suite by the 18th green, while commercial partners make do elsewhere. They jockey for position at the trophy presentation Sunday evening, making it challenging to find space for both winner and Wanamaker. They enjoy inside the ropes access. They often have enough family members in tow to hold a reunion. And then there’s the reported compensation and reimbursed travel and dining expenses that, according to one informed source, run well into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. But this week brought one signal that Clark intends to mitigate the ingrained culture of officer entitlement.
You must be registered for see images
Like the Masters, the PGA Championship holds a dinner for past winners. Unlike the Masters, the guest list long included board members and spouses, and sundry other invitees — about 50 folks in total who’d never won a PGA Championship. Clark presided over his first dinner on Tuesday night and put the focus firmly on the actual champions. PGA of America attendees were limited to Clark and the vice-president, Nathan Charnes. Pity the luckless barkeep at some upscale Philadelphia hotel who was overrun with blazered bigwigs with nowhere to go.
Clark cut a cautious figure in his first public outing as CEO, but he’s an astute leader and cognizant of the challenges ahead. Some of those are external — the ball rollback issue, for example — but the most vexing will be internal. The PGA of America’s president, Don Rea Jr., has been exiled for his buffoonery, but this remains a trade association in which perks are hard-earned and jealously protected. Addressing the core nature of the organization must be step one to addressing the identity of its major championship.
Eamon Lynch is a columnist for Golfweek and a frequent contributor to Golf Channel.
This article originally appeared on Golfweek: PGA Championship’s identity problem isn’t about where, when but who
Continue reading...
