POTOMAC FALLS, Va. — This is how LIV Golf would like the story of its tournaments to be written: “On a mostly lovely Sunday afternoon, Australian Lucas Herbert shot a nervy 69 to stave off Spain’s Sergio Garcia and American star Bryson DeChambeau and win LIV Golf Virginia at Trump National Golf Club. Moreover, Anthony Kim — LIV’s inspiration of a comeback story — made 10 birdies en route to a 62 and then parred the first playoff hole to lift 4Aces GC to the team title.”
A LIV Golf tournament has never been covered that way. And likely never will be.
This is a spectacle with a competitive element woven in. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean the players’ juices don’t get pumping. It doesn’t mean the fans who gather don’t enjoy themselves. It just means the questions about LIV aren’t, “Who won this week?” or, “Did you see the team playoff?” They are existential, now more than ever.
It is, by now, old news that the Saudi Public Investment Fund — which has bankrolled LIV for its entire four-year existence — is turning off the spigot. Thus, something is being asked of LIV that hasn’t been previously: The product must stand on its own merits, because that’s the only way new investors will be drawn in. PIF could make a binary decision to fund the league or not. Anyone bringing in new money will want answers about why the league presents itself as it does, and what investors might get in return for their funds.
Why a shotgun start? Why play music when players are teeing off? Why make purses as high as $30 million? Why limit field size?
There may well be legitimate answers. The inquiries are weightier, though, because there is currently no guarantee there will be a 2027 season.
“I think we’re in a pretty good spot,” said veteran Dustin Johnson, the captain of 4Aces. “I mean, just look at our events. Look at the players we got.”
Start there, and ask a question: Which LIV players would the PGA Tour — or any other elite tour — consider assets it would want back should LIV dissolve?
DeChambeau and Jon Rahm are obvious needle-movers. Tyrrell Hatton is a personality who can play. Kim has a story of redemption. Joaquin Niemann is young enough to be ascendant. Garcia? Johnson? They’re on the wrong side of 40. It’s a fun challenge.
But this isn’t LIV’s obituary. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m confident in the people running the show that we will continue on,” Johnson said. “I think all the guys, we really love being out here, and it’s very enjoyable. We love competing against each other, and we’re only getting better.”
On Sunday, LIV CEO Scott O’Neil was left to greet the players who led the tournament at the first tee wearing a red baseball cap with white lettering that read, “Make LIV Great Again.” Trump’s grandiose clubhouse loomed over the proceedings behind him. The music was relentless, less golf club on a Sunday than Miami club on the other side of midnight.
It’s hard to overstate how un-golf-like the environment at a LIV event is, even before the shotgun start. This isn’t just intentional. It slaps you in the face. Moments before noon Sunday, as the 57 players scattered to the 18 tees spread across this gorgeous, massive property along the Potomac River, a public address announcer blared, “Virginia! Make some noise! Let’s do this!”
At the Masters, the starter says plainly, “Fore, please. Bryson DeChambeau now driving.” Maybe that’s stuffy. At LIV Virginia, DeChambeau’s appearance on the first tee was preceded by four military parachuters landing in the first fairway — two carrying flags of the Legion XIII and Fireballs GC LIV teams. When DeChambeau stood over his ball to hit his first shot of the final round, AC/DC’s “Back in Black” thundered over the crowd. “Golf, but louder” is a slogan and a choice, and even if the tour is on life support, it’s leaning into it.
That includes the team element. This much is true: A team playoff in LIV is kinda fun. Because Garcia — Fireballs GC’s captain — bogeyed the 18th, the 4Aces’ Thomas Detry and Kim competed against David Puig and Josele Ballester of Fireballs GC for the title. The winner: lowest combined score.
When the regular tournament is playing out, it’s nearly impossible to follow the team element simultaneously. When everyone else is off the course, it’s cool. DeChambeau stood to the side, watching it play out, and quietly said, “We’ve got to keep this team thing going.”
Even if the fans who gathered couldn’t list the rosters of the RangeGoats or the Southern Guards or anyone in between, the players seem to like it.
“Of course,” Garcia said. “What kind of question is that?”
Well, it’s the kind of question that has dogged LIV from the start. Yet with all the issues about exposure and competitive format — and, now, finances — it’s important not to lose sight of the fact that LIV’s money was filthy to begin with. The PIF is so prevalent in sports — it owns English soccer club Newcastle United and has invested in both the men’s and women’s tennis tours — that Saudi backing seems normalized. It shouldn’t.
The Saudi ruling regime of Mohammed bin Salman is murderous and has a long list of human rights violations on its record. That should color any evaluation of LIV’s legitimacy — and protesters appeared outside Trump National this week to serve as a reminder of just that.
Protesters have reminded golf fans about the human rights record of LIV’s Saudi funders. (Ben Hsu / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)
So in a best-case scenario, maybe this is a chance for LIV to cleanse itself — not that any of the players that came for hundreds of millions of dollars feel particularly dirty anyway. O’Neil said early in the week that his phone was ringing with people interested in pouring funds into the enterprise. In a few weeks, he said, he might be able to make a PowerPoint presentation on LIV’s new business plan. He’s either a shrewd salesman or a huckster. Stay tuned.
For now, the spectacle continues. The tour resurfaces in South Korea later this month, then in Spain in June and the United Kingdom in July before closing with three stateside events in August. Maybe by then, LIV’s future — if there is one — will be clearer. (The future of the Louisiana event that was postponed last month is unknown.)
Sunday, Herbert celebrated his maiden LIV win by soaking up the Champagne his Australian teammates sprayed on him.
“Winning golf tournaments (is) hard,” Herbert said. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be so gratifying.”
Eventually, he, Garcia and DeChambeau — as the top three finishers — stood on a podium as the same public address announcer belted out their names. Sparklers shot into the air behind them. The few hundred fans who had waited out heavy rains took photos. The people who came and stayed had fun.
The problem: That’s not a business plan to maintain and propel a sports enterprise with a serious competitive element going forward. We’re about to find out if the brashness with which LIV has carried itself as an alternative to golf’s staid history has a market.