As a freelance video journalist, I have covered two PGA Championships, one U.S. Open, and two LIV Golf tournaments.  I have enjoyed every experience and love the game of golf.  I take no sides among governing bodies and simply side with the game and the people who play, from novices like me to the pros (though I was annoyed when the PGA moved the 2022 Championship away from Trump National Bedminster and completely out of New Jersey, because I lost a week-long gig covering the tourney.  That cost me thousands.  Of course, I made up for that - and then some - covering LIV Golf Bedminster and LIV Golf Boston).

Brooks Koepka - 2019 PGA Champion

So without even a hint of any inside info, here's my take:

For starters, many people covering golf claim that the PGA players lost out by remaining loyal to the PGA, but I believe the opposite is true - the loyalty shown to the PGA by most stars essentially killed LIV Golf.

LIV needed many stars to abandon the PGA to succeed, and other than a handful of stars - most notably, Brooks Koepka, Dustin Johnson, and Cam Smith - most of the LIV golfers were simply no longer top-notch PGA golfers or never were.  And that was a major problem for LIV.

Because they had too few stars, LIV had trouble finding sponsors, so they were hemorrhaging money.  Yes, they were funded by the Saudi's seemingly limitless PIF fund, but after losing more than a billion dollars in just over a year, the Saudis clearly saw no reason to continue losing money with no hope of profit, so they negotiated this deal from a position of weakness and did so without their "founder," Greg Norman, a retired golf Hall of Famer who hates the PGA.  So leaving Norman out of the negotiations was necessary, and he'll likely be out of golf completely when the deal is finalized.  

Brooks Koepka at Trump National Bedminster

LIV also landed an absolutely worthless TV deal with the CW network.  The deal
was so bad, that LIV Golf began simulcasting CW coverage on YouTube last month because affiliates weren't picking up the low-rated coverage.

LIV was also hurt because they couldn't get on golf courses that the PGA uses.  Again, having covered LIV Golf Bedminster and Boston, I can tell you that Trump National is a top-notch course.  In fact, I played there two weeks ago in the outstanding PGA Memes Challenge.  But the course that LIV used in Boston - The International - was not on a par with Trump National.  The fairway on the first hole in Boston was so wide that Norman and the parachute team he hires actually landed on the first fairway.  Hell, even novices like myself would have no trouble driving a ball in the fairway from the pros tee box.  And the volunteers at The International, well, I actually recorded one cart driver crashing into another and nearly taking the feet off of one of the LIV competitors, whose fast reflexes saved him from serious injury.  (Watch this video I recorded of the parachute team followed by the golf cart crash)

Dustin Johnson at Trump National

So I don't see this as a PGA loss and a loss for the players who stayed true to the
PGA.  I see this as an absolute win for the PGA and a defeat for LIV.  In fact, again, having covered three majors, I've seen how many of the media are only there to cover Tiger Woods, so I think bringing more cash into the PGA will help sustain prize money when viewership and media coverage inevitably dips after Woods retires.

But as they say, "The devil is in the details," and we've not yet seen the details, so I could be way off.  Still, in the end, I think the PGA comes out of this with a major win, no different than the NBA merger with the ABA, or the NHL merger with the WHA.  The NBA and NHL won and became stronger; and I think the PGA just made themselves a lot stronger.

* All photos taken by the author.

The closing of Churchill Downs for the Summer Season, and the Abuse of Athletes in General

2022 Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs

Yesterday, my wife told me that Churchill Downs has closed for the summer pending investigation into the recent deaths of a number of horses during or after races.  She said that they were looking at everything, including the track itself.  I have no inside info, but having worked in sports for 30 years and studied the culture of sports, I speculated that horses were being driven too hard and possibly drugged.  She questioned the logic of my answer, suggesting that people wouldn’t invest hundreds of thousands – even millions – into horses and risk killing them and losing that investment.

But you see, the big payoff is why people in sports have risked health, limb, and life to win for decades. 

In 1973, Miami Dolphins head coach Don Shula, on the heels of the "Perfect Season" in which Shula’s Dolphins went undefeated en route to the Super Bowl VII Championship, published his memoir, entitled "The Winning Edge."  Shula spoke about his desire to have his teams find an edge in every game against every opponent, within the rules of the game, of course.  But sometimes, I have observed, “within the rules of the game” meant looking the other way.  For example, Dolphins trainer Bob Lundy (who was fired in 1992), often injected players with pain-killing drug cocktails to get them back on the field while injured.  Careers were shortened as players competed with injuries.  Anything to get the player on the field to win that game on that day, future be damned.

Lundy and Shula certainly weren’t alone.  Sports history is filled with players, coaches, trainers and owners who have put health and welfare on the line in order to win now.  Los Angeles Raiders 1980s stars and notorious “bad boys” Lyle Alzado and John Matuszak admitted to taking copious amounts of steroids during their careers.  Alzado began using as early as 1969 and abused them throughout his 15 year career.  When he died from a brain tumor at the age of 43, he had claimed that steroids played a role in his declining health and ultimate demise.  Matuszak died at the age of 38 with steroid-induced cardiomyopathy as a contributing factor.

Also in the 1980s, the Washington Redskins won multiple championships after assembling the largest offensive line ever seen on a football field to that point.  Known as “The Hogs,” the Redskins offensive line mauled opposing defenses and set the standard that’s still in use today, leading to massive weight gain as the average size of offensive linemen ballooned from about 260 in 1980 to over 300 pounds in just over a decade.

The late Reggie Roby

By the late 1980s, as a Miami Dolphins fan, I had begun traveling to see the team play road games in the northeast and making annual trips to Miami for spring minicamp and an autumn home game.  By 1989, I had befriended a few team staff members and filled in as a videographer at the 1990 mini-camp, recording morning and afternoon practices with the team’s video director as his assistant had to miss mini-camp for a family wedding.  I was invited to lunch between practices during the 4-day mini-camp and was stunned at the amount of food that was consumed by offensive and defensive lineman – 4,000 to 5,000 calorie meals just for lunch.

By 1992, I had gotten to know some of the players.  Twenty-five years later, the following players from that 1992 team were deceased (their weight listed is their playing weight):

• Harry Galbreath, age 45, 285 lbs.
• David Griggs, age 28, 245 lbs.
• Chuck Klingbeil, age 52, 288 lbs.
• Shawn Lee, age 44, 300 lbs.
• Alfred Oglesby, age 42, 290 lbs.
• Reggie Roby, age 43, 243 lbs.
• TJ Turner, age 46, 276 lbs.
• Jarvis Williams, age 45, 200 lbs.

Griggs died in a car accident.  But the remainder of the players died from heart attacks.  Other than Jarvis Williams, who was a 200 lb. defensive back, the rest of the players were well above the average weight for men of their height.  Sure, in their 20s, these guys were tremendous athletes in top physical condition, but anyone choosing to carry that weight years after their playing careers end are clearly putting themselves at tremendous risk for cardiac problems.  (That’s why I cringe when I see Gen Z celebrate the obese musical artist Lizzo for “body positivity.”  Hogwash.  She’s a ticking timebomb, but I digress).

I recall cringing every time former NFL star Tony Siragusa appeared on television in his role as a commentator and made jokes about his appetite and weight.  Siragusa played at 340 pounds and refused to lose weight when he retired.  On television, he was the happy-go-lucky, jovial fat guy.  Then he was dead at age 55.

The late Shawn Lee

If a coach told a 240-pound college freshman who plays on the line that if he
bulked up, he could make it to the NFL, but that he might not live to 50, I doubt anyone would take their coach up on that offer.  But I don’t think young men understand the risks of carrying that weight into their 40s.  And I’d be willing to bet that neither the National Football League nor the players union has a mandatory weight loss and management program for retirees.  Maybe they should.

Circling back to America’s greatest race track, Churchill Downs, the rewards for pushing horses is no different than the rewards for pushing pro athletes.  Horses that win earn hundreds of thousands in prize money for their owners and they charge tremendous stud fees when they retire.  Trainers that win become more in-demand and their fees increase.  Trainers and owners that win gain glory.  The more races a jockey wins, the more in demand he becomes as well.  Everyone wants to gain that “winning edge,” so many try to win at all costs, future be damned.  Even in the lower levels of minor league hockey, I had a friend years ago tell me that his team kept of bowls of Sudafed in locker rooms so players can get a “bump” before the game and between periods.  And we all know players still use steroids and supplements, thinking they can get away with it.

So, should we be surprised that a number of horses died at the most popular track in America, during the biggest racing week in the world, in the state where the most thoroughbred are raised?  No.  It should be investigated.  But what really makes me shake my head is why there is such a huge focus on horses while former human athletes continue to die in their 40s and 50s, far too prematurely.