You’d wonder what made the gentlemen golfers in the locker rooms of the most exclusive clubs in America chuckle more over the past week. Was it Phil Mickelson’s disgusting comments about Saudi Arabia’s human rights record, the outraged reaction of the media to the same or his lame and very corporatist apology?
Probably all three. The one thing that can be said for certain is that, for all the justified handwringing, everybody seems to be ignoring one inconvenient truth. Long-term, the whole debacle will scarcely move the needle when it comes to his popularity among his devoted fans.
Why would anybody think the predominantly male, upper class, white golf demographic was really appalled that Mickelson was willing to get into bed with the Saudis to make some easy money? Most of those weekend warriors would happily allow their own companies to do business with the execrable Riyadh regime if it increased their profits too. Indeed, many of the largest American corporations, from whose upper echelons golf draws hugely, struck that very same Faustian pact with the Chinese government and made handy money off Uyghur slave labour this past few years.
In the overexcited fall-out from Mickelson's admission and his subsequent pathetic attempt to undermine Alan Shipnuck, the doyen of American golf writers, it seems forgotten that the majority of golfing types in these parts are currently sitting around 19th holes discussing how returning Donald Trump to the White House in January 2025 will be a great day for America and their bottom lines? Many, whisper it, have been making political donations to ensure that could well happen too, knowing exactly the long-term implications for democracy here.
Even if KPMG ripped up his contract, it’s not a stretch to imagine the tony country club set are mostly tut-tutting about Phil for public relations reasons. In their WASPY hearts, plenty of them do not believe he said or did anything wrong. Except perhaps being too honest.
They like their steaks bloody, their opinions politically incorrect, and describe the people Mickelson was negotiating with as Ay-rabs
A few Tour players, including Rory Mcllroy (whose 2017 round with Trump will forever haunt his own legacy), made laudable condemnatory remarks but, let's be frank, the denizens of the regular clubhouses don't care over much about human rights in America, never mind in the Middle East. The sport skews rabidly Republican and that party is currently waging war on voting rights in several states. Golf doesn't seem unduly bothered on that score.
This is a culture where plutocrats still loiter in the men-only bars cleverly attached to the male locker rooms to circumvent equality legislation. They like their steaks bloody, their opinions politically incorrect, and describe the people Mickelson was negotiating with as Ay-rabs.
When they read Shipnuck's book preview, they found more to admire than admonish. Not least Phil's utter disdain for taxes. Lads who regard Gordon Gekko as the ultimate role model see nothing wrong with a past-it golfer leveraging one more lucrative pay-day because, in their minds, there's no such thing as dirty money.
That is why revelations about Mickelson's relationship with Billy Walters, the most notorious gambler in sport, didn't diminish his status any. When he got a rap on the knuckles from the Securities and Exchange Commission and was forced to pay back just under a million dollars he'd made on Dean Foods, the weekend golfers smiled knowingly. There but for the grace of God. Who among them hasn't made a dodgy killing on the stock market from a juicy tidbit gleaned from a buddy on the putting green? The way, the truth and the golf.
It's important to note, too, that while Tiger is the greatest player of their generation, Phil is the most popular. For the same reasons Stephen Hendry, with seven world titles, never inspired the same affection afforded Jimmy White and his six final defeats. Woods was appreciated for his dominance, Phil adored for his cavalier attitude. The price he paid for recklessness was less Majors, more adulation.
Aside from the obvious racial element (not to be discounted), those quaffing cocktails in the sponsors’ tents at tournaments, always saw more of themselves in Lefty than Woods. The childish nickname. The pudgy belly and man boobs he carried for too many of his prime years – excess baggage that caused Kultida Woods to dub him “Hefty”. The penchant for ridiculous wagers on and off the course. The compulsion to attempt the ridiculous hole-saving shot like a junior executive trying to make a name for himself at a corporate outing.
Most normal people cringed at his brutal takedown of Tom Watson and his flaccid captaincy in the losing team's press conference at the 2014 Ryder Cup in Gleneagles. The average American club golfer merely saw a frustrated company man taking out an underperforming, elderly ceo at the agm. The kind of brazen play they've made themselves in boardrooms to improve their stock position, and the US winning two of the last three editions of the tournament subsequently justified his every criticism.
Eighteen years ago, an outfit with a reputation that included allegations of pollution, climate change denial, and human rights violations, did a deal with an athlete to promote the teaching of mathematics to children. Academies were born bearing both their names and, in television ads, the sportsman extolled the virtues of the corporation in a way that seriously softened its beleaguered public image. Some would call the long-term relationship enjoyed by Exxon Mobil and Mickelson a form of sportswashing. Golf could have cared less.
