Two loyalties collide this Saturday: Gators vs. Ole Miss in a battle that hits close to home.
This weekend’s showdown between the Florida Gators and the Ole Miss Rebels brings more than just two SEC teams onto the gridiron—it’s a personal clash of loyalties for me.
As a grad student pursuing a master’s in mass communication at the University of Florida, my allegiance leans heavily toward the orange and blue. But as an Ole Miss alum who spent countless Saturdays at Vaught-Hemingway Stadium, my heart can’t help but beat a little for the red and blue.
Florida comes into this matchup fighting for bowl eligibility. The Gators’ record in the Swamp has been solid this year, which plays a huge factor because we all know Gator Nation shows up and gets loud for every home game.
Ole Miss, on the other hand, is already bowl-bound, riding high on Lane Kiffin’s explosive offense led by quarterback Jaxson Dart and a stable of versatile running backs. The Rebels have playoff aspirations still flickering, albeit dimly, and every win counts.
For someone who’s experienced the atmosphere at both schools, this game carries extra weight. Ole Miss, with its tailgates in the Grove and a proud tradition of never losing a party, thrives on its sense of Southern charm and swagger. At Florida, it’s all about the ferocity of the Swamp—a venue that can unnerve even the most battle-tested opponent when the crowd hits peak decibel levels.
While my heart wants to root for both, my head tells me the game will hinge on a few key factors. Can Florida’s defense—led by standouts like linebacker Shemar James and safety Jordan Castell—keep pace with Ole Miss’ tempo? The Rebels have shown they can overwhelm opponents with quick strikes and deep balls. Florida’s secondary will need to be sharp, and their front seven must find ways to limit the Rebels’ ground game.
On the flip side, DJ Lagway will need to play mistake-free football and take advantage of Ole Miss’ sometimes-leaky defense. Florida’s offense has found success when their running backs get rolling, and they’ll need those explosive run plays to keep the Rebels off balance. This is a pivotal game for Billy Napier and his Gators to keep the momentum going to finish the season.
For me, this game isn’t just about bragging rights—it’s about reflecting on the journey. My undergraduate years at Ole Miss shaped my passion for journalism and storytelling. It’s where I learned to craft narratives, cover games and capture the essence of SEC football. Now, at UF, I’m refining those skills, diving deeper into the theory and practice of mass communication while immersing myself in a new football culture.
By the time the final whistle blows on Saturday, one team will have bragging rights, and I’ll likely have a bittersweet feeling regardless of the outcome. But that’s the beauty of this matchup—two schools, two fan bases and two parts of my journey coming together in one thrilling game.
May the best team win.
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The Auburn Tigers have gotten off to an undefeated start this season, but the running game has struggled. It needs to be better on Saturday.
For the past decade, the Auburn football offense has run through the running game.
The best player on the offensive side of the ball for the Tigers has always been their running back, whether it’s [autotag]Tank Bigbsy[/autotag], [autotag]Kerryon Johnson[/autotag], [autotag]Cameron-Artis Payne[/autotag], or Tre Mason, the offense has literally run on running the ball.
This year that has not been the case. The team’s leading rusher through three weeks is quarterback [autotag]Payton Thorne[/autotag].
The team’s leader in rushing touchdowns is backup quarterback [autotag]Robby Ashford[/autotag]
In a year in which starting running back [autotag]Jarquez Hunter[/autotag] was voted to the preseason All-SEC team, he has rushed for a grand total of 90 yards and 1 touchdown in non-conference play.
If Hugh Freeze’s team is going to be successful in SEC play, the running backs are going to have to start running the ball and running it well.
This week Auburn travels to play a familiar opponent, the Texas A&M Aggies, who are currently giving up just over 4 yards per carry on the ground.
Auburn’s running backs are averaging 4.3, and that number dips almost below 4 if you take away long touchdown runs by [autotag]Jeremiah Cobb[/autotag] and [autotag]Sean Jackson[/autotag] against UMass.
That is simply not good enough for a team that has issues throwing the ball as well. This week the Tigers are going to have to score points against an A&M offense that averages 44 points per game.
If Thorne and the receivers falter in the passing game, the running game has to pick them up.
While Payton Thorne ran free last week, it was mostly due to him being a superior athlete against FCS competition. The run game needs to be more fundamentally sound against A&M and avoid sequences like the one below.
THREAD: If Auburn is going to upset Texas A&M tomorrow, they need to run the ball well and avoid sequences like this…
First down: Simple outside zone goes nowhere. The line gets blown up and Damari Alston goes east-west instead of north-south… gain of 2 pic.twitter.com/7fKRPsCA1N
This sequence is downright brutal from first to fourth down.
Auburn tries to run an outside concept on first down, and it get’s completely blown up. The line of scrimmage immediately shifts to the Auburn backfield, and [autotag]Damari Alston[/autotag] is left with little to do but string out the run as long as he can before hoping a hole develops.
It does not, and Auburn is left with a second and long.
Now for second down.
Second down: Payton Thorne incorrectly hands the ball off in this read-option hybrid.
Everything about this play is executed perfectly besides the most important part.
#77 [autotag]Jeremiah Wright[/autotag] and #72 [autotag]Izavion Miller[/autotag] execute their pulls perfectly, and have the edge completely locked up for Payton Thorne to follow them to the endzone.
Wide receiver #0 [autotag]Koy Moore[/autotag] does his part as well, taking his defender completely out of the would-be-play.
This should have been 6 points for Auburn. Instead, [autotag]Payton Thorne[/autotag] handed the ball off and the Tigers gained one yard.
Fourth down is just as bad as first and second. Just like they did on the outside run, the Auburn lines gets bullied on this inside run, leaving [autotag]Jarquez Hunter[/autotag] with nowhere to go.
Fourth Down: After a nice improv pass by Thorne, Auburn has a fourth a short and elects to run the ball up the middle.
The run gets stuff and the Tigers turn it over on downs. Sequences like this weren’t detrimental vs FCS opponent Samford.
Auburn had many drives similar to this one during their 45-13 win last week. They were able to get away with it because of their talent,
That won’t be the case this week.
If Auburn is going to win as 8-point underdogs, the running game has to show up. The offensive line and running backs need to take some of the pressure off of Payton Thorne.
We’ll see if they can when the Tigers kick off SEC play Saturday at 11 CST.
Contact/Follow us @TheAuburnWire on X (Twitter), and like our page on Facebook to follow ongoing coverage of Auburn news, notes, and opinion. You can also follow Brian on Twitter @TheRealBHauch
The NBA gave Brooks a slap on the wrist when he should have been suspended.
The NBA fined Dillon Brooks $35,000 Friday for pushing a camera person to the ground while chasing a loose ball in Wednesday’s game against the Heat.
It was a slap on the wrist for a player who deserved much more as an habitual line-stepper.
The push wasn’t incredibly hard, nor did it appear to happen with the intent to injure. If it was any other player, there was enough reasonable doubt to think it wasn’t intentional at all. But everything we know about Brooks removes that doubt.
Even the NBA knows he did it on purpose. Otherwise there wouldn’t have been a punishment. In a statement, the league called the incident an “unsportsmanlike act of shoving a camera person.”
Dillon Brooks was fined $35k for “the unsportsmanlike act of shoving a camera person on the sideline after pursuing a loose ball,” the NBA announced. pic.twitter.com/dPFLnzFFcc
Just look at the follow-through on the push and the casual walkaway. Whether he wanted to hurt the guy or not, injury was possible. Brooks should’ve been suspended a game at least. Maybe more.
A $35,000 fine to someone with a base salary of $11.4 million is a drop in the bucket. Brooks makes about $139,000 a game, according to figures from Spotrac. This fine is equivalent to suspending him for a single quarter.
I’m not a fan of punishment for the sake of it, but a suspension would’ve made clear this won’t be tolerated. When Dennis Rodman kicked a camera person in 1997, he was suspended 11 games and fined $25,000. The NBA didn’t send that message this time, which is a shame because nobody deserves the indignity of being pushed on their back for no reason. Especially not the very camera people who help broadcast the game and its players to the masses.
The #Vikings’ signing of Byron Murphy Jr. on Tuesday could prove to be a boon for Minnesota’s struggling defense in 2023
Exactly where Byron Murphy Jr. will line up for the Minnesota Vikings in 2023 isn’t yet known, but what was agreed to on Tuesday evening was the free agent cornerback will be wearing purple next season and that’s great news for coordinator Brian Flores and a defense that was among the worst in the NFL last year.
Murphy, who turned 25 in January, was a second-round pick of the Arizona Cardinals in 2019. He agreed to a two-year contract worth roughly $22 million, according to NFL Network. Murphy has the ability to play the outside or the inside in the nickel. That versatility is key in today’s pass-happy NFL.
The news that Murphy had agreed to join the Vikings — it can’t be made official until the NFL league year begins at 3 p.m. Wednesday — capped a busy day in which quarterback Kirk Cousins had his contract restructured to create $16 million in salary cap space for 2023 and center Garrett Bradbury reportedly agreed to a three-year, $15.7 million deal.
General manager Kwesi Adofo-Mensah and Minnesota’s brain trust made other moves, including retaining kicker Greg Joseph and long snapper Andrew DePaola. But the Vikings saved their biggest move yet for last night by landing Murphy to replace either Patrick Peterson on the outside or Chandon Sullivan in the nickel.
Peterson, who also was replaced by Murphy in Arizona, agreed to terms with the Pittsburgh Steelers on Monday as the two-day negotiating window that leads into free agency opened. Sullivan, who struggled in his one season with the Vikings, also is a free agent and isn’t expected to return.
Adofo-Mensah spent the two-day, free agent negotiating period targeting young players for a team that is coming off a 13-win season and is retooling a defense that was ranked second-to-last in the NFL in total and pass defense and was tied for 28th in points given up per game.
On Monday, the Vikings reportedly came to terms on a one-year, $13 million contract with defensive end Marcus Davenport. The 26-year-old, who was the 14th pick in the 2018 draft by the New Orleans Saints, has battled injury issues during his career, but would have landed a significant payday a year ago after having nine sacks in 11 games. Last season, Davenport only had half-a-sack in 15 games and suddenly the Vikings saw an opportunity.
If Davenport rebounds next season, Minnesota will be in a situation to sign him long-term. If he doesn’t, it could be a one-and-done situation that enables the Vikings to look elsewhere with no financial commitment.
Murphy, like Davenport, appears to be betting on himself. He played in only nine games for the 4-13 Cardinals because of a back injury in 2023. He had started all 16 games as a rookie, started seven of the 15 games he played in during his second season, and then started all 16 games again in his third year.
The Vikings will be counting on Flores’ system to bring the most out of Murphy, who has played 50 percent of the snaps in his career on the outside and 43 percent in the slot. Murphy has only five interceptions in 56 career games and four of those came in 2021.
Nonetheless, the Cardinals used Murphy at times to shadow standout wide receiver, Davante Adams. Pro Football Focus’ information showed that Murphy gave up 9.7 yards per reception in primary coverage last season, ranking ninth among cornerbacks facing a minimum of 50 targets.
He also gave up only seven plays of at least 15 yards to tie for fourth among corners. Flores, the Vikings’ new defensive coordinator, is expected to use plenty of man coverage and Murphy will be a key part of that.
Tom Pelissero of NFL Network speculated that Murphy could get around $16 million per year on the open market — or far more than the Vikings will pay. The rankings of the Top 101 free agents by NFL.com had Davenport ranked 24th and Murphy 33rd. ESPN.com ranked Davenport the 24th best available free agent and Murphy 38th.
The Vikings’ makeover on defense isn’t close to being complete.
Defensive tackle Dalvin Tomlinson has reportedly agreed to a contract with Cleveland; linebacker Eric Kendricks and cornerback Cameron Dantzler were jettisoned; Peterson is headed to Pittsburgh; and safety Harrison Smith’s future in Minnesota remains undecided. Outside linebacker Za’Darius Smith also has requested his release, although the Vikings have been trying to trade him and Davenport is likely to serve as his replacement.
The Vikings starting corners will be Murphy and to be determined. Andrew Booth Jr., and Akayleb Evans, both 2022 draft picks, battled injury issues last season and figure to get a shot to win jobs in training camp. Many expect the Vikings will use their first-round pick (23rd overall) on a cornerback, but the Murphy addition could cause Minnesota to pivot off of that.
That remains uncertain. Far more certain is the fact the Vikings’ secondary will be better with Murphy in it.
Luke Easterling reflects on covering his hometown team in his final column for Bucs Wire
I was born at St. Joseph’s Women’s Hospital, a cannon shot of pirate beads away from The Big Sombrero.
I’ve bled Creamsicle ever since.
If you’re going to cover a sports team as a professional, you’re supposed to check your rooting interests at the door. But I prefer not to insult the intelligence of the reader by pretending I’m indifferent when those pewter hats are moving up and down the field.
Sorry, not sorry.
When I was growing up, the most uncool thing you could possibly be was a “Yucks” fan. While my friends traded in their Cowboys Starter jackets for Packers ones (then Broncos ones, then Patriots ones), I was still pulling for the team with the worst winning percentage in NFL history. They were scouring packs of Pro Set and Upper Deck for Emmitt Smith and Jerry Rice; I wanted Reggie Cobb and Lawrence Dawsey.
Fan Fest attendance > Game Day attendance
We couldn’t even watch the games on TV back then. The Bucs were never good enough for the games to be anything but blacked out locally, so for the longest time, the iconic voice of Gene Deckerhoff was our only window into the on-field action every week. We’d catch a few highlights on the local news in the evening, or maybe SportsCenter, though the highlights were rarely fun to watch anyway.
That changed in the late-1990s, obviously, as the Bucs finally became perennial playoff contenders, riding a legendary stretch that culminated with a dominant win in their first trip to the Super Bowl. It was redemption for all of us who spent our entire lives rooting them no matter what.
When I decided in high school that I wanted to be a sports journalist, I wanted to do one of two things: Cover the Bucs, or cover the NFL draft.
I never imagined I’d be able to do both, and that someone would actually pay me for it.
But that’s what I’ve been able to do here, and I’ve done my best not to take it for granted.
I do miss the bananas foster at halftime.
My senior year, I won a Player of the Week award in football. They threw a banquet for all the winners after the season, and Ronde Barber was the guest speaker.
I was hoping to get a picture or an autograph afterward. He took the picture, signed the shirt, and then spent nearly an hour talking to me about my dreams of being a sports writer. The conversation ended with him telling me to call the team facility the following week, and he would give me an exclusive interview for my ugly little blog that nobody read. Sure enough, he called my house phone on a Tuesday morning, and answered all of my way-too-many questions.
In 2019, I was on the field to see Barber inducted into the Bucs’ Ring of Honor. Last month, I got to write about him being inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Did you know a pack of GOATs is called a legend?
Pulling for this team has always been a family affair.
My dad still has his ticket stub from that first home playoff game in ’79, a 24-17 win vs. Philly. There was a spirited halftime performance from the King High School band, complete with a trumpet solo. Mom nailed it.
Some of my earliest memories were collecting cards and gumball machine helmets and Starting Lineup figures with my older brother; anything with Bucco Bruce on it, we wanted it. I was at his house when Michael Spurlock ran it back. Santa Maria, indeed.
My sister was a Bucs cheerleader for three seasons. The youngest of five, with four older brothers, she was the only one of us who ever made it to the NFL.
Even now, our family group chat on game day feels like we’re all still huddled around the same TV.
That walk to the car never got old.
Being able to cover this team will always mean the world to me. It has always been such a big part of my life, and I’ll never get over the fact that I got to do this for a living. Everyone deserves the chance to do what they love, with great people, and with an incredible support network. I’ve been lucky enough to check all of those boxes here.
Bucs fans mean the world to me. I am one of you, and always will be. I have never taken for granted the opportunity to represent the voice of the fans; in press conferences, in locker rooms, and on the digital page. This is my city, my community, my team.
No matter where I go, or how I do this work, that will never change.
I got to cover this team through the most successful three-year stretch in franchise history, with a trio of playoff appearances, back-to-back division titles, and a second Super Bowl run. The GOAT, Gronk, M1K3, LVD . . . some of the most iconic players in league and team history.
Luke Easterling reflects on his unique journey in sports journalism in his last column for Draft Wire
Smoothie bar.
Boat detailing.
Science show presenter.
Operations/guest services manager.
After-school program director.
Those are just a few of the jobs I did to pay the bills while trying to see if I could eventually make an actual career out of my labor of love-turned-side hustle of writing about football.
When I was 14 years old, I started volunteering at Tampa’s Museum of Science and Industry, where my older brother worked. I was only allowed to work one four-hour shift per day, so (after dressing up as marine animals to talk about ecosystems and pollution, or teaching rocket propulsion with a blowtorch, a giant water jug, and some isopropyl alcohol) I would clock out at 1pm, and have four hours to kill until he was done for the day.
The ghost of a good thing.
Some days, I’d grab a basketball out of our summer science camp closet and walk over to a rickety court at the school next door. Other days, I would climb to the top of MOSI’s IMAX Dome Theatre and work on some math problems.
Most days, I would hunker down in the small public library annex inside the museum, and write stories for the ugliest football blog nobody ever read.
Eventually, I started sticking my nose into places it didn’t belong in the football media world, and if nobody noticed or told me to leave, I stayed.
First, it was access to the media section of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ website. Then, the NFL’s media site. That gave me access to the league’s weekly conference calls with some of the league’s star players. I would sit in the museum’s volunteer break room, shushing anyone who dared come in to eat their PB&J because I was on a conference call with Peyton Manning or Jerry Rice or Derrick Brooks or Steve McNair or Donovan McNabb.
I had a longtime family friend who worked in the Sports department at The Tampa Tribune (where my grandfather worked the Linotype machine for 30 years). He had a room in his house where he kept the countless amount of sports media guides he’d amassed over his years in the business, and in return for cutting his grass, he would let me take home as many as I could carry.
My friend got me in the door at the Trib not long after, just stringing high school games at first. Heading into my senior year, they let me write a preview on a local school that was about to start their first-ever season in football. A few months later, in the first regular-season game in their history, I threw for three touchdowns and ran for another, and we beat them 30-6.
Sorry about that, Cambridge.
It didn’t take long for my friend and his colleagues to realize what I really wanted to do: Cover the NFL draft.
So, they let me come in on draft weekend and type in all the picks for every round that would run on the agate page. A high-schooler sitting in a real newsroom, working the draft in real time. I was in heaven.
My friend at the Tribune landed me a full-time desk job in the newsroom right after I graduated high school, so I put off college for a semester. This was back when newsrooms were full of incredible reporters on any and every beat imaginable, instead of the skeleton crews they’re forced to work with these days. I soaked up every morsel of knowledge, every tidbit of expertise, every tip and trick I could from anyone who would give the random 18-year-old answering phones up front a spare few minutes. The sports editor even let me tag along for Bucs preseason games, running post-game quotes up from the locker room to the beat writers and columnists in the press box so they could make deadline.
The ghost of a good thing (pt. 2).
Another reason for the delay of higher education? I only had eyes for one football program: USF, my dad’s alma mater. They didn’t have eyes for me, but they let me hang around spring practice like a lost puppy, which was . . . nice, I guess? I remember standing on the sideline and watching Auburn transfer Courtney Denson scramble toward me, unaware that Terrence Royal was coming unblocked from the back side at full speed. The sound that came when he arrived was like a no-doubter fresh off the bat in Omaha.
That was the first moment where I thought, “Maybe I should just write about this instead.”
So write about it I did, on a newer, slightly less-ugly blog that a few people read.
I wrote about it for the Tribune, when I was offered a part-time job on the Sports night desk as an agate clerk, writing fantasy football columns (back when they could spare an entire page of the section for such a thing) and a draft blog for the paper’s website (in between taking scores from high school coaches over the phone, and trying to format horse racing results, and deciding where to cut off the golf scores to make the column fit).
I wrote about it after a failed attempt to play college football at 24 years old for a startup program in another state, finishing my one banged-up season by writing a profile on some of my teammates for the local small-town paper.
Touch (fake) grass.
One night, I was staring at the stats page for my blog, two days after writing an in-depth film breakdown on Le’Veon Bell and Manti Te’o.
Six page views.
Six.
In two days.
I vividly remember asking myself, “Are you really gonna keep doing this to yourself? Banging your head against the wall, trying to make a career out of this, when clearly, nobody is reading any of this?”
At the time, I was miserable at one of those aforementioned jobs (feel free to guess which one), and starting to wonder if it was time to hang my digital pen up right next to my cleats.
I didn’t.
I decided that night that I love doing this so much, that I would always do it, even if nobody read it.
Scouting trip.
Enter social media.
For all its ills, Twitter had a thriving NFL draft community. It gave me a place to show my work, get feedback, learn, get better.
One day, while reading an article penned by a new friend on Bleacher Report, I saw a link where you could apply to write for them.
What’s the worst they could do? Say no?
They didn’t.
I wrote for B/R, and every other outlet imaginable over the next few years, until I found this beautiful corner lot with tons of acreage in a great neighborhood.
Joining the NFL Wire network was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It literally changed my life, no exaggeration. This incredible team of people is unlike anything I’ve ever been a part of, which is why it’s so bittersweet to be moving elsewhere. The address is changing, but the friendships will remain.
For nearly seven years, I’ve been able to live the dream here, and the dream is finally what’s paying the bills. I think that’s all any of us could ever really ask for, right?
I’m just a home-schooled, trailer-park kid who didn’t finish college. Lucky, blessed, whatever you want to call it . . . I’m just grateful for the endless list of helping hands along the way; amazing people who have reached down from further up the ladder, when I had nothing to give in return but gratitude.
Death Valley will be the same old Death Valley come Saturday morning.
When the kickoff time for Tennessee was announced, I was surprised to see the decision to start it at 11 a.m. CT.
These are two big-time programs. The Vols are undefeated and LSU is riding a four-game winning streak. There are plenty of storylines to watch, too. It’s a chance for Tennessee to go on the road in the SEC West and win, something it hasn’t done that much.
With games against Alabama and Georgia on the schedule, Tennessee needs to beat teams like LSU if it wants to have a season to remember.
In LSU’s case, this is a chance for [autotag]Brian Kelly[/autotag] to cement what he’s building in Baton Rouge. A loss to Florida State wasn’t the best way to start his tenure, but win on Saturday, and that loss is squarely in the rearview mirror.
Suddenly, a New Year’s Six Bowl wouldn’t seem that far-fetched for LSU. Aside from all the narratives, we should see two quality teams play a close game.
So, this isn’t the typical SEC game you see in this time slot. LSU is known for its atmosphere at night. You know how it goes.
“The sun will soon find its home in the western sky, and it will be Saturday night in Death Valley.”
Nobody ever talks about Saturday afternoon or Saturday morning. It doesn’t have the same ring to it. The allure isn’t there.
On Saturday, I don’t think it will matter. I expect Tiger Stadium to be rocking.
After two years of letdowns, there’s excitement around LSU football. Since the Florida State loss, this game has been circled as a chance to earn some national respect.
There are only so many games like this every year, and it’s been a while since LSU’s had one. Fans aren’t going to miss this opportunity.
Brian Kelly came to the SEC to play in front of crowds like this. Players come to LSU to play in front of crowds like this. Tiger Stadium has a certain power to it and it remains turned on, day or night.
This isn’t just a statement game for Kelly, but for everyone involved in and around LSU, the players and the fans. We remember the big games. These are the climaxes that make college football the best reality show on television.
Make no mistake, Death Valley will be the same old Death Valley come Saturday morning.
Wednesday’s news showed that the Tour’s biggest names have cemented their position atop the food chain.
ATLANTA — A little more than six months elapsed between Phil Mickelson boasting that players had “leverage” over the PGA Tour and the revelation on Wednesday at East Lake Golf Club that proved the greatest leverage belonged to those who remained, whose loyalty increased in value as the pace of defections to the Saudi-funded LIV Golf series quickened.
As Tour commissioner Jay Monahan fought to ring-fence and then rally his troops in an effort to destroy the evil empire’s (or kingdom’s) Death Star, the price of player loyalty grew exponentially. The final bill he received isn’t cheap, but still represents hella value given the alternative he faced.
For not much more commitment, top players receive a lot more reward: significantly increased purses, often fewer guys to beat for the money, enormous bonus programs not dependent on performance, and an opportunity to benefit from the substantial adjacent wealth surrounding golf, like owning equity in the innovative digital stadium concept announced today by Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy.
It’s been the mantra of every commissioner—admittedly there have only been four—that the PGA Tour is a member-led organization. That’s been nominally true, but only as much as players care to get involved. Most didn’t because they saw no compelling reason to distract themselves from the grind of competition, where their money was made. But when the game’s stars became a sought-after asset class, decisions had to be made. Some opted to cut and run for Saudi money, others to stay and fight—as much against the structure and complacency of their own Tour as against LIV.
Wednesday showed that the Tour’s biggest names have cemented their position atop the food chain.
“We all sort of are our own little independent businesses and we sort of try to compete against each other, and I think this is the first time in a long time where we sort of all sat down and were like, let’s try to be business partners,” McIlroy said. “How can we all pull in the same direction here to benefit everyone and to help the entire Tour and to help each other basically.”
As with any workplace, the Tour has always had a schism between the Have Nots and the Have Yachts, with each camp routinely grumbling that money headed in the other direction ought by rights be coming to them instead. The new future that Monahan outlined won’t do much to heal the divide. That was clear in a meeting of the PGA Tour’s board on Tuesday, when player-member James Hahn was the lone dissenting voice to the new structure that was duly ratified.
In a member-led organization, Hahn’s voice counts as much as that of Woods, no matter how many more fans rush for their remote controls when Tiger plays. But Wednesday’s unveiling was a long-overdue acknowledgement by the PGA Tour that its business cannot be based on mollifying a swath of members who are well-compensated for comparative mediocrity. Every major sports league is built around the stars who drive engagement and revenue. Fans and sponsors expect it. The PGA Tour is finally moving to guarantee the product it provides both.
There will be griping about the new dispensation, of course, some of it defensible. It creates a caste system of tournaments as those not elevated to star status struggle to draw compelling fields. Using the controversial Player Impact Program to define “top” players eligible for lucrative events throws a lifeline to struggling fan favorites (like Rickie Fowler) that other criteria—the world golf ranking—would not.
To defuse dissent, there’s a sop to those who labor below deck on the good ship Tiger: a guaranteed minimum of $500,000 a year to meet the costs associated with competing. Manna for some, meaningless to most. You’d have to scroll through 164 names on this season’s money list to find a player who failed to reach that earnings threshold.
But the gravy doesn’t drip down to the developmental Korn Ferry Tour, the chief pathway to the main circuit. Nor was there news about fast tracking top amateurs onto the Tour. That leaves an opening for LIV to grab the rising talent pipeline, but that would require a strategy of developing talent rather than paying a premium for established stars. There’s no real evidence of that long-term game plan from LIV.
For all the specifics offered, questions remain. Monahan said none of the Tour stops elevated for stars will be held outside the U.S., which suggests he has abandoned plans for three lucrative overseas events. That risks leaving the world stage to LIV and turning the PGA Tour into essentially an American company that exports content rather than the game. These are issues the Tour will need to address.
The notion that guys who left for LIV will experience buyer’s remorse and look longingly at the bountiful paradise Monahan promised his stars today is probably overstated. Most simply wouldn’t benefit under the Tour’s new system for reasons of eroded competitiveness, physical frailty or apathy. Not that they’ll have the option. Monahan was asked if he would lift the suspension on a LIV player who wanted to dismount from the Saudis and saddle up again with his old colleagues.
“No,” he said flatly. “As I’ve been clear throughout, every player has a choice, and I respect their choice, but they’ve made it. We’ve made ours.”
In the case of Cameron Smith, much depends on whether the choice has already been made. Rumors suggest the world No. 2 will soon decamp to LIV. Today’s announcement makes his reported price—$100 million—seem a poor return given what a player of his caliber could earn on the PGA Tour in the coming years, and without the reputational harm that comes with taking guaranteed cash to sportswash Saudi atrocities. But on a single word do such decisions turn. In this case, that word is “earn.”
Instead of sadness at how far the most beloved golfer since Arnold Palmer has fallen, however, there should be a sense of relief. Bad as it’s been to see his image and reputation go up in flames from a distance, it would be far worse to see the blaze up close.
And that’s exactly what would have happened had Mickelson showed up at Southern Hills.
Neither will show Mickelson in a positive light, and he will not be able to dodge the pointed questions whenever he does resurface. The more space he can put between himself and the revelations that undermine the Man of the People image he’s crafted so carefully all these years, the better.
That’s a distance that cannot be measured in days or even weeks, mind you, but rather in months and major championships. He’s already missed the Masters and now the PGA. If Mickelson is smart, he won’t play the U.S. and British Opens, either.
That’s how corrosive the vile and selfish things Mickelson said, and were said about him in Shipnuck’s book, are.
“Mickelson’s future was unlimited,” Shipnuck wrote, “as long as he could avoid saying something stupid.”
Mickelson is hardly the first athlete who has turned out to be not what he seemed, his true self a disappointment to those who conflated athletic ability with moral character. What makes Mickelson’s fall so stunning was that he was so committed to the con.
For 30-some years now, he has presented himself as Every Man. With his goofy grin, a penchant for audacity that bordered on reckless and an endless patience for seemingly everyone who wanted an autograph, a ball or just a high five, he made fans feel special. Seen.
He was an entertainer as much as an athlete, and he gave everyone a front-row seat to his circus.
But like every show under the big top, it was as much illusion as it was reality.
According to Shipnuck’s book, Mickelson can be gracious and kind. He is generous with his tips for clubhouse attendants and waiters. He paid to retrofit the house of a casual acquaintance after he was paralyzed in a motorcycle crash. Upon hearing that fellow pro Ryan Palmer’s wife had been diagnosed with breast cancer, Mickelson immediately put Palmer in touch with the doctors who had treated his wife, Amy.
But Mickelson also can be immature and cruel, delighting in other’s failings and dredging up embarrassments years later. He is also ruthlessly calculating.
In Shipnuck’s book, Brandel Chamblee shares a story from early in Mickelson’s career of Mickelson blowing off a child who wanted an autograph, telling the boy he’d come back after his round.
“This little boy was crestfallen,” Chamblee recalled. “He wasn’t gonna wait around for six hours to ask again and they both knew it.”
“I’m not saying this to denigrate Phil, just to illustrate that it was strategic when he decided to start signing all those autographs,” Chamblee continued. “Because early in his career he didn’t sign a lot. I’m 99 percent sure it was strategic because Tiger (Woods) hated signing and pretty much refused to do it. Phil saw there was a void and decided he would be the superstar who signs for everyone.
“And that elevated the narrative surrounding Phil.”
That kind of cool self-interest helps explain what is Mickelson’s greatest sin: his involvement with LIV Golf Investments.
Worse, though, is Mickelson’s cavalier attitude about throwing in with the Saudi royal family. He is well aware that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman had Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi killed and dismembered because Khashoggi was a vocal and unrelenting critic. He knows the Saudi government is repressive, particularly to women and members of the LGBTQ community.
But he considers it a small price to pay to bring the PGA Tour to heel. And further line his pockets, of course.
“They’re scary (expletives) motherf—–s to get involved with,” Mickelson told Shipnuck in a November phone call that didn’t become public until February. “Knowing all of this, why would I even consider it? Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reshape how the PGA Tour operates.
“They’ve been able to get by with manipulative, coercive, strong-arm tactics because we, the players, had no recourse,” Mickelson added. “As nice a guy as (PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monahan) comes across as, unless you have leverage, he won’t do what’s right. And the Saudi money has finally given us that leverage.”
Ah yes. What’s a little murder and torture among friends when there’s golf to be played and money to be made!
There will come a day when Mickelson makes a sheepish return, apologizing and asking fans for forgiveness, and no doubt some will. He’s brought too much joy and entertainment for too many years for them to hold a grudge.
Others, however, will never be able to see Mickelson the same way. Their fun and folksy hero is anything but, and he does not have enough years left in his career to write a redemption story.
It’s sad that Mickelson is missing the ultimate victory lap for his career this week. What’s even sadder is why, and who Mickelson has shown himself to be.
The Saudi project is piloted by a man with more hot air than the Hindenburg, and seems destined for the same fate.
It’s performance review season in corporate America, when employees are either congratulated on jobs well done or held to account for shortcomings. If Greg Norman were disposed toward self-reflection (stay with me), he might feel relief that his Saudi-backed outfit isn’t held to such conventional standards on performance, or for that matter on commercial viability, ROI or morality.
Norman was announced as the CEO of LIV Golf in October and has beclowned himself with his every public utterance since, cementing a reputation that will encompass not only his inability to finish big tournaments but his ineptitude in starting them too. What was promised as a seismic shake-up of global golf is looking more like a bonanza for washed-up also-rans. Consider what Norman has presided over since the Saudi ambitions in golf came into focus and all you’ll find is backtracking.
Those 12-18 events they touted? Not happening.
The league format? Same.
An elite team concept? Nope.
The best golfers in world? Let’s hear it for Robert Garrigus.
What’s left is eight lucrative tournaments that will showcase aging veterans who can no longer compete where it matters, career journeymen whose own caddies might struggle to identify them in a line-up, and amateurs, whose inclusion was presented as a “grow the game” gesture rather than the act of desperation it is. (Next stop: PGA Tour Champions!) In short, Norman is serving a fetid platter of horseshit and claiming it’s boeuf bourguignon.
The only entertainment guaranteed in this venture is an overdue comeuppance for the Great White Pilot Fish, whose tenure began with an interview in which he marveled at the sight of women dining in Saudi restaurants sans burkas. Later, he addressed the murder of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi. “What happened to Khashoggi was reprehensible. There’s not a person on this planet who would not agree with me,” he said, perhaps forgetting that the Crown Prince who ordered Khashoggi’s dismemberment by bonesaw—the same man who pays Norman—might not agree with him. That he followed this declaration with “But…” is damning enough without it being necessary to recount the chicken-hearted prevarications he duly offered.
Norman has also shown the familiar maladroit touch with Augusta National that defined his playing career there. “We respect the Masters and we thought we’d let it go off before our announcements,” he said last week.
“…we thought we’d let it go off…”
Oh, to have been Fred Ridley’s watchful manservant when he read that over his morning coffee.
Norman’s latest performance pratfall is peddling a claim that he could make a swansong appearance at the 150th Open Championship in St. Andrews in July, not as a ceremonial figure but as a competitor. There’s a better chance we’ll see Old Tom Morris tee it up for old time’s sake.
The R&A exempts past champions into the Open until age 60. Norman is 67, hasn’t competed in a major in 13 years, or in any serious tournament in a decade. He reportedly admitted that he won’t enter qualifying but will instead ask for a special invitation, which is at least in keeping with his current belief that “elite” fields are filled with antiquated has-beens. The R&A’s response carried the faint whiff of a spokesperson irked at having had to interrupt their weekend to slap down the narcissistic delusion of a serial social media flasher: “The entry terms and conditions for The Open stipulate that a champion must be aged 60 or under or have won the championship in the previous 10 years to be exempt from qualifying. That remains the case for the 150th Open and we have no plans for any additional exemptions.”
Norman’s disregard for established rules and norms might endear him to his employers, but even the Saudis must now be weary of their water carrier’s unquenchable thirst for publicity, his intemperate and ill-considered public comments, his lack of peripheral vision, his unpopularity in the locker room and his stupefying ability to snatch defeat when victory seemed not only possible but likely. Norman’s temperament was often a liability on the closing stretch of majors, but his bosses will know that it’s an encumbrance even before they can get a ball in the air.
Petulance underpins Norman’s St. Andrews fantasy. Golf’s governing bodies are closing ranks against his Saudi “sportswashing” effort—and behind the PGA and DP World tours— in a manner that is subtle but unmistakable. The R&A previously awarded a spot in the Open to the Asian Tour’s leading money winner but ceased doing so when the Saudis recently bought into that circuit. Augusta National invites all former major champions to the Masters as a courtesy, but somehow lost Norman’s address in 2022. Players being courted by the Saudis will have noticed this chill wind, and only those who know they can’t factor in tournaments that matter will shrug it off.
Despite all the bluster and promises of riches, the Saudis must finally understand their project is piloted by a man more inflated with hot air than the Hindenburg, and seems destined for the same fate, even as he artlessly tries to coax gullible passengers aboard. Someone with a larger-than-life bust of himself in his garden is obviously immune to embarrassment. The people who entrusted him with their billion-dollar business, not so much.
