good read (cant post the whole article, too big i guess. link above for the rest ). Didnt know of his torn relationship with his dad
Greg has a long history of going at the PGA. During his limelight wanted appearance monies, felt the major stars should be taken care of. Over time..Tiger ignored him and so did Jack. He's CEO of LIV, king of the hill. He has a net worth of $400 mill, so what's this all really about? payback?
In West Palm Beach, Fla.
After lunch, Greg Norman stands at the window of his private yacht club, watching the boats glide across the waterway. Dinghies and fishing boats and superyachts, Norman has had them all, and they each mean something to him.
In the distance, there’s a Hinckley powerboat cutting wide circles, pulling a boy on a tube. Norman sees it and chuckles. A father and son, he suspects.
It was his dad, an engineer, who built Norman’s first boat. He would work beneath the house on weekends as Greg, 8 or 10, quietly watched him work the tools, bending and clamping the slats, gradually crafting a frame. When the little sailboat was finished, Merv and Greg brought it to Ross Creek and pushed it in for its first voyage. They named it “Peter Pan,” after the boy who never grew up.
“It’d be pretty cool to sail up and down right here,” Norman says now. “With this wind …”
He will be back on the water soon enough, no doubt. But he may be alone. His father, with whom he has a tortured relationship, is dying. Norman’s father
figure, Jack Nicklaus, is among the longtime allies who now refuse to speak with him. The sport he once ruled is at war, and Norman — one of the most recognizable and accomplished figures in its history — is leading the attack.
His reputation is in tatters. He’s increasingly isolated. His default setting has always been aggression, a man who goes for it even when he shouldn’t, and he’s showing no sign of letting up. For now, though, he drifts off, still gazing toward the faraway Hinckley.
“This is a perfect wind,” he says.
During the secret meetings with golf’s giants, Norman, 67, begins by quietly sitting to the side. Jeans, sneakers, open-collared shirt. The vibe is casual. They know who he is: two-time British Open champion, the world’s No. 1 player for 331 weeks,
fifth-richest golfer of all time.
Another man opens the presentations. He’s a consultant from Britain who has quietly worked for years to help the Saudi Arabian government establish a foothold in professional golf. He has led roughly 200 of these meetings, he says, speaking on the condition of anonymity to discuss the private pitch process.
Last year, a company called LIV Golf Investments — once a grass-roots effort led by the consultant’s marketing and tourism apparatus and backed by the Saudi Public Investment Fund — hired Norman as commissioner and chief executive.
The Saudi government initially pledged $400 million for 2022 alone ($255 million of which is for prize money) to attract golf’s superstars, and LIV has announced a
series of high-stakes tournaments around the world. Given Norman’s bona fides, including global renown as “The Shark” and a history of taking on the PGA Tour establishment, he was the “missing piece,” the consultant says.
“I’ve been down this road before,” Norman often chimes in during the meetings. “Free agency is coming to golf. Finally.”
Usually in a hotel suite or rented house, the consultant blazes through a slide show outlining the vision for the renegade tour. An international event schedule. TV-friendly elements inspired by Formula 1 and the Premier League. And, of course, eye-popping prize money.
The Masters, a tournament Norman knows painfully well, is currently the most lucrative event on the golf calendar. This year, its total purse was a record $15 million, and
winner Scottie Scheffler pocketed $2.7 million. The 39 players who missed the cut went home with nothing.
On the LIV tour — it rhymes with “give” and was named for the Roman numerals of its 54-hole tournaments (traditionally they’re 72) — even regular season events will have a $25 million purse with a $4 million winner’s share, plus guaranteed appearance fees, no cut and other moneymaking opportunities. A season-ending team championship has a $50 million purse.
“It is landscape-changing,” longtime golf agent Bobby Kreusler says. “A potentially life-changing possibility for players.”
There is, however, the matter of LIV’s financial backer, which recently extended its total pledge to $2 billion for the 2023-25 seasons to further entice top-shelf players. There is a widespread belief that the Saudi government is using golf the way China and Russia used the
Olympics, the way Qatar is using this fall’s World Cup: to “sports-wash” a long-hideous global image underscored in 2018 by the killing of
journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who wrote columns for The Washington Post.
Norman’s explanations for doing business with the Saudis have been clumsy at best. “We’ve all made mistakes,” he
told reporters recently. The response drew rebukes from Amnesty International and Khashoggi’s fiancee.
Many of golf’s stars have distanced themselves from Norman and LIV,
pledging allegiance to the PGA Tour. But many haven’t: Tour stars Sergio Garcia, Louis Oosthuizen and Lee Westwood are among those who will be in the field for its first event, scheduled to start Thursday in London. And at least one who had declared loyalty to the PGA ultimately signed up:
Dustin Johnson, a two-time major champion.
Johnson’s top sponsor, the Royal Bank of Canada, dropped him, and the
PGA Tour has threatened lifetime bans for any player who participates. But Johnson, who has reportedly received guarantees of more than $100 million to flip to LIV, remains in the field. On Saturday, Kevin Na, a five-time winner on the PGA Tour, posted on Instagram that he was resigning from the organization and “exercising my right as a free agent.”
In interviews, both Norman and LIV’s consultant insist golfers don’t seem to care who pays them. “They ask,” the consultant says. “Then they move on.”
So Norman remains all-in. After decades of big risks and torched bridges, he says this latest gambit may be the biggest yet. He claims a lifetime of accomplishments, and being deprived of the things he wants most conditioned him for this moment.
He calls the PGA “monopolists” and suggests critics such as Rory McIlroy have been “brainwashed” by golf’s ruling class. The sport’s executives and agents, Norman says, are conspiring against LIV to protect an antiquated system that prevents golfers from realizing their own power and worth amid a global movement of athlete empowerment.
“You just can’t bully these guys anymore,” he says. “The world is too sophisticated now.”
As for doing business with the Saudis, Norman shrugs. He has built courses in China and Vietnam, using what he calls “golf diplomacy” to open previously walled-off nations. Khashoggi’s murder was “reprehensible,” Norman says, but he seems genuinely confused by questions about the ethics of his new venture.
“I’m not in this thing for Khashoggi or anything like that,” he says. “I’m in here because of the game of golf. That’s what I care about. If I focus on the game of golf and don’t get dragged into this other stuff, that’s my priority.”
Asked about his conscience, Norman again looks bewildered.
“Every country,” he says, “has got a cross to bear.”