Rebels and decibels: What it's like at a LIV golf event

BEDMINSTER, N.J. — Whatever you might think about the new league’s rebellious players, condensed 54-hole format or Saudi-backed billions in funding, LIV does deliver on its “Golf But Louder” mantra.

The music was inescapable during this month’s tour stop at Trump National. Speakers blared at the practice range, drowning out the rhythmic smack from club crushing ball, typically the sport’s beloved soundtrack.

Wander from tee to green, following a Phil Mickelson or Cam Smith along the fairway, and as one song faded out, another soon picked up volume. As players lined up their putts at No. 15, a DJ booth stood roughly 30 yards away, mixing tracks more suitable for the Meatpacking District at midnight than a Jersey country club in the mid-afternoon sun.

But nothing could prepare golf traditionalists for what happens at the launch of a LIV tournament. With the league’s shotgun-start format, a simultaneous launch used for company outings and charity events, all the players loaded into golf carts at the range as Van Halen’s “Panama” blasted through the sound system.

And once the scoreboard clock ticked down to the last few minutes, it was time for AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.” Then, of course, the skydivers.

You may have heard that LIV features a 12-team field to go with its individual competition, the 48 players divided into groups of four, with franchise names like the Mickelson-captained “HyFlyers” or Bubba Watson’s “RangeGoats.” But LIV also employs its own official parachute team, and a trio of skydivers floated down to the first hole’s fairway — narrowly avoiding the sand traps — as the crowd roared.

This was the sort of thing usually reserved for MetLife Stadium, right before kickoff, but the players seem used to the circus, as LIV is now into its 15th month of existence (with 25 events played during that span). At the Masters, the so-called patrons (fans) aren’t allowed to bring cell phones on the course, for fear of annoying the players. At an LIV event, it’s too loud to even have a conversation on one.

“To me, there’s not any distractions,” said Dustin Johnson, a two-time major-championship winner who reportedly received a $150 million signing bonus for his defection to LIV. “The only thing that can distract me is myself.”

Bryson DeChambeau apparently is fine with the music, too. A week before Bedminster, he joined Jim Furyk as the only two players to shoot a 58 in a top-level tour event -— DeChambeau did it in the final round to win at Greenbrier. And it’s not like competing in this golf-rave atmosphere has blunted the skills of the LIV pros. Brooks Koepka won the PGA Championship in May — the first LIV player to bag a major — and the 53-year-old Mickelson finished tied for second at this year’s Masters.

“We’re clearly not exhibition golfers,” DeChambeau said.

No, but unlike the PGA Tour, the LIV players are allowed to wear shorts, which definitely creates a more casual vibe. With the weekend’s unrelenting sun, and humid 100-degree feel, the muni course wardrobe was definitely appreciated. And a number of onlookers weren’t bashful about voicing their approval.

“Look at the calves on Phil Mickelson!” screamed one fan.

Mickelson responded with a smile and his signature thumbs-up gesture.

“We love you Mr. President!”

While LIV has leaned on Donald Trump to host three of their tournaments — in D.C, Miami and Bedminster — having the former president as a highly visible ally tends to complicate things, to say the least. At times, it was difficult to tell if the people were there for the golf or a Trump rally.

Many in the crowd wore his red caps, either the leftover “Keep America Great” from his failed 2020 run or the updated “Make America Great Again” emblazoned on the side with both the No. 45 and a 47. At the practice range, Trump went from stall to stall, chatting with most of the players, as fans clamored for autographs beyond the rope (all the while a half-dozen Secret Service agents closely guarded his movements).

Wherever Trump traveled on the course, he did so in a long motorcade of golf carts. On Thursday, both Trump and his son Eric started the Pro-Am with Patrick Reed for the first nine holes before switching to Smith — the eventual tournament winner — for the back nine. Afterward, Trump praised Smith to a trio of reporters in the clubhouse.

“He’s a great player — and I’ve played with all of them,” Trump said. “He doesn’t know he’s a star. He’s a regular guy, but he’s a big star. I know a lot of people that think they’re bigger stars than they are. But Cam is a real champion and I think he’s going to win a lot of majors.”

Trump didn’t let the fact he’s facing 91 criminal charges pull him away from Bedminster — lawyer Alina Habba was by his side during much of the event. But he did bolt the grounds on Saturday to travel to the Iowa State Fair for a campaign stop (though Trump was back later that same evening). By Sunday morning, Trump was at the range again, then positioned himself prominently on the stage at the No. 1 grandstand, right behind the leaders — Mickelson and Smith — as they teed off.

One woman repeatedly blew kisses to the former president, yelling “Number 47” as he waved back to her. Then the “Don-ald Trump!” chants began. Trump may currently be a private citizen buried under a mountain of legal charges, but there wasn’t a whisper of that while LIV had set up shop in his own backyard.

“I’ve known President Trump for quite a while,” Johnson said. “I won Doral [Trump’s Miami course] when it was there. He’s in Palm Beach, so we play a good bit of golf together. We’ve had a nice friendship over the years.”

Cleeks, Crushers and RangeGoats

Perhaps LIV’s most radical innovation is the creation of a 12-team league, a concept that the PGA Tour has refused to entertain. Each four-man team has a captain, and the group’s top three scores over the weekend’s three rounds are used to determine the winner. Some teams have a common thread — Ripper G.C., which is captained by Smith, is composed of Aussies; Stinger G.C., captained by Louis Oosthuizen, is all South Africans — and the players say they enjoy the camaraderie of the format.

Also good: the extra money. There is a $5 million purse for the team competition at every event, with $3 million going to the winners. To date, through 11 events, the Torque team, captained by Chilean Joaquin Niemann, has pocketed an additional $12.5 million, followed by 4Aces led by Johnson — netting $11 million.

That’s already on top of the eight to nine-figure signing bonuses handed out to join LIV, along with the individual money earned at each event. There’s also a playoff at season’s end, with another $50 million purse at stake, including $16 million for the first-place team.

No wonder Smith and his fellow Aussies partied on Bedminster’s 18th green after he carried them to the team victory, spraying each other with huge bottles of champagne, like they had just won the World Series. The celebration took a frat boy turn when the Aussies began slurping booze from their golf shoes, after trudging through the sweaty, sauna-like climate at Bedminster.

“Apart from the disgust of wearing a shoe for a week and having a beer out of it, it was pretty good,” said 39-year-old Marc Leishman, a former Rookie of the Year on the PGA Tour with six career wins before defecting to LIV.

A truce to the civil war?

LIV was a risky proposition from the jump, despite the massive cash reserves of the Saudi Public Investment Fund (PIF) that financed the enterprise — piloted by CEO Greg Norman, a Hall of Famer turned LIV pirate, and spurred by Mickelson’s animosity toward the PGA Tour. Creating a rebel league, using what many people considered blood money from a Saudi regime notorious for human rights violations, instantly alienated a majority of golf fans, especially in the U.S.

Mickelson flaunted his villain role by helping to recruit stars from the PGA Tour while publicly pointing out how its monopoly on the sport hurt the players, both monetarily and schedule-wise. During the first year of LIV’s existence, both sides appeared dug in, but the PGA Tour did take steps to prevent further defections by significantly boosting the prize money through “elevated events,” funneling more cash to its players.

The battle took a shocking turn, however, with the June 6 announcement that LIV and the PGA Tour were working on a “framework agreement” that would combine their assets — but how the joint venture would look in the future remains unclear. Initially, the PGA Tour players were furious at commissioner Jay Monahan for being blindsided by the secret negotiations — their loyalty rewarded with betrayal, particularly after speaking out so strongly against the Saudis. Monahan went from condemning LIV on moral grounds (even invoking 9/11 families for the purpose) to pressing for a merger with the enemy in relatively short order. 

Monahan spoke optimistically about getting a deal done in a meeting with PGA Tour players earlier this month, but there are lingering trust issues. And what of the independent leagues? Plenty of animosity still exists between the two.

“If LIV Golf was the last place to play golf on Earth, I would retire,” Rory McIlroy told reporters last month at the Scottish Open.

McIlroy is among the many stars that would need to be compensated financially for staying put if LIV players are allowed back to play on the PGA Tour. But at the Bedminster event, none of them sounded like they wanted to return, preferring the format with the upstart league. They also see this as a vindication of what the defectors have been saying all along, with Mickelson speaking the loudest for that group.

“Prior to [LIV], Jay and I had four three- or four-hour meetings,” Mickelson said at Bedminster. “And all the notes I look back on, I’d say 85 or 90% of them are happening, and I think that's really cool. I’m happy for the PGA Tour and I wish them all the best.’’

If the PGA Tour acted on Mickelson’s input at that time — involving the higher-paying events and team play — it’s very possible that LIV wouldn’t exist right now. Instead, Mickelson seems to be enjoying his “told-you-so” moment.

“I certainly am chuckling, yes,” he said.

As for who gets the last laugh, LIV is claiming victory at the moment. Whether or not the future of professional golf will look like it did during that August week at Trump National, the sport is never going to be quite the same.

By David Lennon

dave.lennon@newsday.comDPLennon

David Lennon is an award-winning columnist, a voter for baseball's Hall of Fame and has covered six no-hitters, including two perfect games.