The end of LIV - Why Golf needs to modernise, not Americanise
When LIV Golf teed-up its inaugural event at the Centurion Club in St. Albans, England, it was with a mixture of excitement and scepticism.
There were those who saw it as the modernisation the game desperately needed, and others who were convinced that it was nothing more than an audacious money grab.
What nobody doubted was its ambition. Backed by Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund (PIF) and fronted by some of the biggest names in the men's professional game; the league promised team-based competition, shorter events, and louder entertainment-first atmospheres designed to attract younger audiences.
It was bold and unashamedly brash but despite access to a seemingly endless stream of funding, the league failed to capture the mainstream imagination or build the credibility necessary to compete with the established golf tours. And so, less than five years after the first shot was sliced in anger, PIF pulled the plug.
So what went wrong?
The best place to start is with a simple home truth. LIV didn't work, because it was never going to work. Not because the numbers didn’t add up (they don't) but because the game of golf didn't need fixed in the way that LIV wanted to fix it.
Golf might be an aging, predominantly single sex sport in its traditional territories but it's developing differently in new markets. 27% of new players in Asia, for example, are under 25 and 40% of them are female. These guys are already reshaping the way people think about the game and how they play it (i.e. in off-course locations like simulators and driving ranges).
But LIV wasn't trying to tap into any of that. It wanted to expand its reach in existing markets with a very western (read: American) model, and one that failed to understand what made golf such a successful sport in the first place.
Audiences want authenticity and that has to be earned.
Events like The Masters or The Open can create sporting drama in iconic settings. But that's not the only reason that they sustain a global audience. They are the embodiment of sporting meritocracy; the pinnacle of that year's attainment and, as a result, they've developed an emotional connection with audiences that span generations.
LIV didn't have any of that.
Events felt manufactured, lacked significance and rarely produced moments that resonated beyond hardcore golf followers. The new formats also created confusion. LIV’s shotgun starts, team scoring, and abbreviated 54-hole events were intended to make golf more television-friendly, but instead, many viewers just struggled to understand where everything was at.
Television ratings also exposed another harsh reality.
Despite signing stars such as Phil Mickelson, Brooks Koepka, and Dustin Johnson, LIV events consistently drew relatively small audiences compared to PGA and DP Tour broadcasts. Proving that star power alone does not translate into sustained public interest.
But the team element - often sold as its greatest innovation - was also its biggest disappointment. LIV's teams were inconsequential, they had no geographic identity, no deep-rooted fan bases, and little reason for spectators to develop loyalty. While US sports fans may be more used to that, it's a complete anathema to fans across the rest of the world.
Which gets to the heart of what LIV's real problem was. While LIV’s attempt at modernising the game should still be a wake-up call because the game clearly needs to evolve. What doesn't need to evolve into is something more American.
Golf needs to change, but that doesn't mean that it needs to get more American.
For more than a century, golf’s major championships have defined greatness in the sport. Yet despite golf’s transformation into a truly global game, the sport’s most prestigious events remain concentrated in two countries: the United States and the United Kingdom.
That imbalance no longer reflects modern golf.
Players from countries such as Japan, South Korea, China, Thailand, and India have become major forces in both men’s and women’s golf. Yani Tseng, Inbee Park, and Lydia Ko have helped reshape women’s golf through sustained excellence on the biggest stages. While Hideki Matsuyama's winning of The Masters in 2021 was a landmark moment not just for Japan, but for the whole of the continent’s four-and-a-half billion people.
That’s more than 60% of the world’s population.
If golf really wants to reach new, more youthful audiences, then this is where it needs to focus, and there is a fairly obvious way to do it:
Asia needs a Major.
If golf wants to be more attractive to a younger audience, it needs to go where the growth is.
The continent has already demonstrated its ability to host elite sporting events. From Formula One races in Kuala Lumpur and Singapore to the Olympic Games in Tokyo and Beijing; the region has repeatedly shown it can organise world-class international competitions with enormous audiences and commercial success. Golf would not be taking a risk by bringing a major championship to Asia. It would be recognising reality.
The commercial potential is impossible to ignore. Asia represents one of the largest and fastest-growing sports markets in the world. Television audiences are massive, corporate sponsorship opportunities are enormous (and diverse) and golf participation continues to expand among younger and wealthier populations.
A major championship in Asia in either the men's or the women's game would open the door to new fans, new traditions, and a new cultural significance for the sport.
Critics often argue that tradition should prevent the majors from expanding geographically. That every major has a distinct identity that’s key to its success. The Masters is tied to exclusivity and Augusta’s beauty. The U.S. Open is associated with brutal difficulty. The Open Championship celebrates traditional links golf and weather.
But then there's the PGA! Who won that again this year? Re-inventing that on the other side of the world would send a message that would resonate well beyond golf.
Even in Women's golf where Asian women dominate and there is now five major championships none are in Asia.
There is an important fairness argument here as well.
Professional golfers from Asia often travel across the world to compete at the highest level, adapting constantly to different climates, grasses, and time zones. Yet the sport’s biggest championships rarely ask Western players to make the same journey eastward.
In an increasingly global game - that has built a history on meritocracy - how do you maintain that tradition when the playing fields are clearly not level?
An Asian major would balance that out while adding another level of attainment for the winner. The competition would develop its own personality, iconic moments and rivalries in a way that another Western major or LIV Golf never could.
It would be building on golf’s traditions, not trampling all over them. That’s the lesson from LIV Golf that the sport now needs to move forward with.
Gavin McClement
