Removing My Corporate-Colored Glasses
Removing My Corporate-Colored Glasses
It took me a little while, but I can confirm you can see the heart of golf through massive advertisements.
I’ve been spoiled. My entire life.
Not entirely, of course. One of my parents’ favorite words was (and still is), “no.”
But professional golf-wise, the first seven tournaments I attended were at a little course in Augusta, Georgia.
There is a reason why the Masters is so revered by golfers and non-golfers alike throughout the world. The simple, yet incredible concessions, the mechanics of the massive merchandise store, and the no phone policy all add to the splendor of the endlessly vibrant landscape (the quality of the golf doesn’t hurt either).
Additionally, the entire time you’re on the course, the only official logo you see is that of the Masters. The delicious Georgia Peach Ice Cream Sandwiches? They’re perfectly crafted by the Christie Cookie Co. in Nashville, TN. Unless you read that on the plastic wrapping’s fine print, though, you’d think they were lovingly manufactured by Club Chairman Fred Ridley himself.
I do realize that these comments are a little ironic considering Masters week is one of the biggest of the year for numerous corporations and their “wining and dining” budgets. I won’t even get into how much money the Club pulls in from the week.
Yet, for me, being at Augusta National each first full week in April with my dad is a critical component of my personal experience with golf. The sheer joy in the air is indescribable.
By comparison, other professional golf tournaments are a little underwhelming:
I’ve been to a PGA Championship and three Wells Fargo Championships, all hosted at Quail Hollow Club in Charlotte. For my spoiled-self, the experience is always jarring, with my cell phone ever-present and my wallet hurting from the inflated food prices.
I attended the Tuesday practice round of last week’s Wells Fargo Championship, and this year, for some reason, I kept noticing the corporate fingerprints that touched every part of the golf course. There were large Wells Fargo tee markers on each hole, massive (and loud) golf equipment trucks beside the driving range, and frequent Wells Fargo signs plastered throughout the course. Quail Hollow was filled with high-dollar landmines.
My first Twitter post of the day was not even about the golf, it was about Charlotte’s mayor holding a ceremony proclaiming “Small Business Week” outside of the Small Business Village. Her remarks attracted more cameras and people than Rory McIlroy hitting balls on the driving range the village was connected to.
It just didn’t make sense to me. McIlroy is the #3 ranked golfer in the world, Mayor Lyles was just repeating corporate talking points.
Listening to numerous people make phone calls did not help my frustration. I really did not want to hear a businessman talk about how bad interest rates were while I watched Matthew Fitzpatrick smoothly hit iron shots on the driving range.
These same things happen at PGA TOUR tournaments across the country, especially as more corporate money pours in as the TOUR competes with the LIV Golf League. It’s a disappointing, yet necessary reality as the battle between the tours rages on.
I was in a mood, but slowly realized that I was completely missing the forest for the trees
At 12:03 PM, I trudged between the driving range and first tee for the fourth time in my corporate-induced malaise. On this walk, I overheard a conversation between a father and his young son that snapped me to attention.
The Dad was in his element, explaining how the tournament’s grounds crew got the grass so lush. He talked about the mowers, fertilizers, and manpower required for the delicate dance between the weather and the thousands of fans that were overtaking the golf course for the week.
His son was enraptured, asking continuous questions and seemingly experiencing the beauty of a well-manicured golf course for the very first time. Their conversation was only tangentially related to golf, but it was clear that the son was slowly catching on to the whole golf thing.
A few minutes later, on another jaunt to the driving range for some key lime pie gelato from the Small Business Village, I passed the practice putting green and saw Doug Ghim patiently signing autographs for a crowd of smiling kids. The looks on the kids’ faces were those of pure delight. A real, live, professional golfer talking to them, seemingly making their day and (hopefully) cementing a love for golf? You can’t beat that. I saw the same thing over and over again as I walked the course itself; in-between holes, players were happily signing autographs for dozens of young kids, each with a massive smile on their face. No one cared if it was Jordan Spieth or Rory Sabbatini putting pen to merchandise.
With each observation, it slowly dawned on me that I was being a moron for my pessimistic attitude at the tournament.
For one, I got to spend my day watching professional golf instead of studying for finals.
Secondly, from a kid’s perspective, the ads don’t matter and the sponsorships mean nothing, they’re just having a good time experiencing a sport they can participate in for the rest of their lives.
Seeing all of the kids and their fathers was special for me as well, considering how much my own father and I have bonded over a shared love of this sport.
Simply put, with this new perspective, I felt like a jerk for my bad attitude in the first few hours I was at Quail Hollow.
While we build up these tournaments and players with millions of dollars and lots of corporate advertisements, the heart of golf cuts through all of that to what really matters.
The memories made with parents or close friends, the ability to be outside in perfect weather (despite the copious amounts of pollen), and an immense love for a beautiful game.
Those are just a few of the things that make golf so special to so many people, and that’s what I’ll be trying to remember this summer as I strive to look past all of the glaring distractions that the game is encountering.
Questions, comments, ideas, and feedback can be directed to jpatterson@unc.edu. You can find me on Twitter @JakeWPatt or my Instagram @Loopers_Line. If you really want to get to know me, check out my LinkedIn.
Special thanks to Bethany Phillis for serving as my creative project mentor. Additional thanks to Caroline Maness for designing Looper’s Line’s logo.