Two years after the first LIV Golf event, I visited the third tournament in the UK to see what it was like, how LIV is developing and whether this is the future of golf.

It was only two years ago that the LIV golf revolution was launched at the Centurion Club in St Albans. It was a remarkable debut, a week of high energy, but that was largely a function of the rebellious nature of the outbreak. It was only when the players teed off, for example, that the PGA Tour issued a statement detailing the sanctions that would be imposed on the renegades.

That inaugural tournament was of course also notable for LIV unveiling its first off-the-course experience, something they promised would transform the sport. Now in its third season, how would this year’s LIV UK compare to that first edition?

Insiders admitted there were concerns that moving the event from a venue near London to the JCB Golf & Country Club in Staffordshire could impact on fan numbers, but those concerns were quickly dispelled when the event sold out in a short space of time.

And once fans were inside – which proved difficult for many due to poor traffic management – ​​it was clear that LIV UK 2024 was bigger, better and bolder than the 2022 edition. LIV is now more staffed, the infrastructure is more extensive and the options for fans are seemingly endless.

There are also, rather simplistically but effectively, more loudspeakers playing dance music. In the summer sun the whole atmosphere was very different to what it had been in the past. Less the honourable company of Edinburgh Golfers. More Wayne Lineker Mediterranean bar scene.

The driving range was buzzing with energy, the putting green was like a VIP area, the Birdie Shack was a hive of activity, the Digger Inn was noisy and the Majesticks Arms was a boisterous favourite with the fan club.

Children could get to know the sport with fun games, improve their swings with instructors or just have fun in a JCB sandpit. Both children and adults could test their rugby ball passing skills, football free kicking skills and chip golf balls on a JCB excavator themed mini range.

The merchandise store was something of a curiosity in 2022. The team ethic was new and uncomfortable. Two years later, the caps, shirts and hoodies were flying out the door.

Fans enjoyed food and drinks. Lots and lots of both. There were loaded fries, loaded nachos, loaded wings and, presumably, loaded pockets.

In the middle of the fan village stood two dilapidated towers, their faded grandeur surrounded by electric colors and drunken gamblers. Given that everything had a name, it was somewhat surprising that no one had thought to name these two crumbling piles after the PGA and DP World Tours.

It was clear that many fans were having a great time and weren’t really watching the golf, and they arrived well before the tee time and many left long after to stay and watch the free performance.

“There’s a definite NFL vibe,” said one as he walked the fairways, noting that when the NFL comes to London it’s common to be so involved in the fringe activities that the idea of ​​two teams competing can be forgotten.

While this is true for certain elements of LIV UK’s paying punters, it is not the whole story. In fact, the proximity of the fan village and various hospitality units was largely relative to the concentrated interest in the action. By the time you got to the furthest corners of the grounds, the tournament was much like any other – a few diehards enjoying being close to the action, politely slamming excellent and very average shots into the greens.

It was easy to walk the holes and think, “This is what Golf Sixes could have been.” Remember that? Keith Pelley’s attempt to bring tournament golf to the 21^st century, it came to nothing because the stars were not motivated to play and the budget was mediocre. In other words, not enough money. It missed the bottomless pockets of PIF.

Of course, modern sport has a dilemma. There are diehards who love the games they support, but the administrators are afraid that they are not spending enough money, that there are not enough of them, and that they will die out.

English cricket’s answer is The Hundred. The men and women behind it openly admit that they are chasing a new audience to secure the future of the game. Their answer is to create a new version of the sport that is hated by many who love the original.

In many ways, LIV Golf is fighting a similar battle. One fan said, “It doesn’t really feel like a sport — who wins doesn’t seem to matter.” Others loved it, with one even quoting Elon Musk before crying, “LIV is a disruptor. It’s disrupting the sport.”

Sports journalist Richard Gillis of Unofficial Partner regularly notes that sports are being transformed into entertainment, and LIV fits perfectly into that trend.

In 2017, the irreverent Gillis wrote: “Normal, humble people have been marginalized as sponsors pursue a sinister new agenda called ‘fan engagement’, the main goal of which is to encourage young men to behave like complete idiots.

“Sport is the medium, ‘act like an idiot at your office Christmas party’ is the message.

“The modern fan is expected to bring more than just quiet enthusiasm and deep subject knowledge; he or she must be prepared to demonstrate his or her Passion for Sport™.”

These thoughts came to me when Marc Leishman hit an approach shot into a front bunker on the 15th hole at LIV UK and a fan, already a little wobbly from drinking, turned to his mates, who were also leaning a little too far the wrong way on the slopes, and said: “On that note, let’s stop watching this shit and have some more beer.”

LIV may appeal directly and without restraint to this target group, but such scenes are certainly not exclusively reserved for the rebel circuit in modern sport or within golf.

The BMW PGA Championship at Wentworth is undoubtedly a great experience for fans, with an excellent course, a great field and a fantastic fan village with free performances at the weekend.

But the focus on having fun has a downside. The downside of the Friday Night Racing Crowd. In 2018, Rory McIlroy played in the final group of the third round and spent the first three holes staring around in bewilderment.

Drunken spectators carelessly broke the ropes on the first fairway and wandered the hole line on the par-3 second. As McIlroy left the third green, more drunken people ventured onto the green and took selfies. The marshals who tried to stop them were brushed off and told where to go (and it wasn’t the fourth tee).

There was a similar scene at Royal Troon 90 minutes after Xander Schauffele held up the Claret Jug, when another wobbly fan decided to run up to the 18th floor.^e green and was pursued by security personnel in a scene reminiscent of streakers running onto a Test match cricket pitch. Open marshals say crowd behaviour has become increasingly difficult to control, partly because of the excess of alcohol but also because of an increased sense of entitlement.

It’s a fascinating world. A complicated world. It’s the future of golf and “Silence please!” is an increasingly old-fashioned request.

About the author

Matt Cooper
Contributing Writer

Matt Cooper has been a golf journalist for 15 years. He has worked for Golf365, SkySports, ESPN, NBC, Sporting Life, Open.com and The Guardian, among others. He specialises in feature writing, reporting and tournament analysis.

Over the years he has travelled extensively, from Kazakhstan to South Korea, via the Seychelles, Sri Lanka and Nepal.

To put it simply, he has also covered numerous Majors, Ryder Cups and Solheim Cups.

Follow Matt on Twitter.