McEwan: How would I describe TGL? Fun, but largely forgettable.
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Twelve months later than planned, TGL has finally made its much-anticipated debut.
A joint venture between the PGA Tour and TMRW Sports – Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy’s side hustle – the new, indoor, tech-infused golf league has been the source of much intrigue and excitement.
Billed in some quarters as the PGA Tour’s answer to LIV Golf, TGL is, amongst other things, a bold, ambitious, made-for-TV production.
It sees six teams, each representing a different US city and made up of four PGA Tour players, going head-to-head in a season-long competition at the purpose-built SoFi Centre in Palm Beach, Florida.
The inaugural show saw the Bay Golf Club – represented by Wyndham Clark, Shane Lowry and Ludvig Aberg – thrash New York Golf Club’s Xander Schauffele, Rickie Fowler and Matt Fitzpatrick 9-2 on primetime US TV.
But was it actually any good? I stayed up through the night to take it all in. Here are my immediate takeaways…
The technology is undeniably excellent. For all the talk of the giant screen – which has been measured in just about every unit you can think of but, in reality, is just a massive telly – the real star is the rotating, shape-shifting green. It’s a legitimately extraordinary piece of kit.
The shot clock adds a fun wrinkle, particularly with the quickening pulse thumping around the arena as time runs out (a feature that brings to mind Tiger Woods 98 on the Playstation 2 with its vibrating controllers). Much more importantly, the countdown keeps the whole production moving at a broadcast-friendly pace.
A word, too, for the commentary. It was far more reserved than I’d presumed it might be. That’s a good thing. Sycophantic shouting isn’t additive to a broadcast. It’s an annoyance (and one that’s in disappointingly rich supply throughout sport). The voices that talk over the pictures should provide context and info, not tell the viewer how great something is and demand they love it. The TGL team clearly got the memo and the show was all the better for it.
The ‘course’ was nowhere near as wacky as previously released imagery had indicated it might be, but it would have been infinitely better had it been an actual, digital recreation of a real course. Somewhere like a Pebble Beach, say, or an Oakmont. Instead, we got a weird hybrid of golf and Minecraft. Not awful. Just kind of unnecessary.
Finally, everybody looked as though they were having a genuinely good time. Don’t underestimate the importance of that. Fun is a wildly underrated commodity in professional sport and, particularly, in men’s professional golf. There hasn’t exactly been a ton of good vibes flying around for the past couple of years. Anybody experiencing golf for the first time tonight would surely have left with a favourable impression. Praise be.
The bad bits
The format is ludicrously contrived. Just when you’ve got the hang of six-player foursomes, you’ve got time-outs and something called ‘The Hammer’ to wrap your head around. Because, as everybody agrees, golf could surely do with being more complex…
Whilst the commentary was nowhere near as rah-rah as forecast, the broadcast itself is unapologetically geared towards an American audience. It’s big, it’s loud, it’s fast, it’s a little obnoxious. It’s like nothing we’re used to in the UK, and that – how can I put this – takes some getting used to.
Perhaps that’s also why the non-stop music was so annoying. It’s no doubt different for those in the arena, where there’s no commentary to supplement what you’re seeing with your eyes. But for the armchair viewer, who’s already listening to commentators and players all talking over one another, the very last thing you need is Coldplay whining away in the background. It was a bit chaotic, a bit frantic, a bit… agitating.
The crowd? A whopping disappointment. I’m not sure why but I expected there to be twice as many people there and, honestly, it could do with it. The SoFi Centre is a 250,000sq/ft arena. That’s a big, big space. It takes a lot of cheering to fill it. The atmosphere (on TV at least) was flat from the get-go and, by the end of the broadcast, it seemed as though most of the energy had evaporated. Also? Not many kids but lots and lots of middle-aged guys who look like they shop exclusively in Chinos R Us.
As for the players, I’ll give them their due. Like Rickie Fowler said at the top of the broadcast, the six who played were kind of like ‘guinea pigs’. Alas, they just didn’t have a whole lot to say. There was next-to-no banter, hardly any needle – yeah, not great.
And that’s to saying nothing of DJ Khaled. TGL had the chance to put clear daylight between itself and hangers-on of his ilk. Instead, it leaned in. Hard. Le sigh.
I’m horribly torn. There’s a lot to like about TGL but I’d be lying if I said the broadcast held my attention for the full two hours. When you’ve seen one shot hit into a big screen, you’ve seen them all.
It is absolutely no substitute for ‘proper golf’, which would be fine except so many people seem to be operating under the misapprehension that this is exactly what it can become.
The proclamation by host Scott Van Pelt to open the broadcast was illustrative of what some already perceive as TGL’s obsession with its own reflection.
“Tonight,” declared SVP, “[the SoFi Centre] is the epicentre of the game of golf as it is reimagined in a way that feels just right for 2025.”
Okay, for thing, St Andrews is the epicentre of the game of golf, and at all times. And “just right”? According to whom? Because last anybody checked, golf’s grassroots is absolutely thriving.
Not only are we apparently meant to believe that something is broken, we’re being told – on social media, in interviews, live on air, everywhere – that this is both the fix and the future.
That kind of ostentation does TGL no favours. No matter what anybody says, no matter how good the technology, no matter how high-profile the players, TGL exists in a space that is golf-adjacent. It is not ‘golf’, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. As Tiger himself might say, it is what it is.
This, however, is my single biggest takeaway: now that I’ve seen it, I’m not sure how much more I want to see. Consider my curiosity satisfied, this particular itch scratched. Will I tune in next week? Maybe, maybe not. I certainly won’t stay up until 2am to watch it all live. The novelty value, I fear, will wear thin, particularly as they’re only using one venue.
It felt a little like watching Gladiators. Fun, but largely forgettable. I genuinely don’t think I could talk you through a single shot.
The whole thing seemed like a big dress rehearsal for Tiger’s 50th birthday party later this year. Invite the guys round, fire up the sim, hit a few balls, maybe make a Spotify playlist to put on in the background.
There’s a place for that concept and maybe even a market. But please, let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not.
Michael McEwan is the Deputy Editor of bunkered and has been part of the team since 2004. In that time, he has interviewed almost every major figure within the sport, from Jack Nicklaus, to Rory McIlroy, to Donald Trump. The host of the multi award-winning bunkered Podcast and a member of Balfron Golfing Society, Michael is the author of three books and is the 2023 PPA Scotland ‘Writer of the Year’ and ‘Columnist of the Year’. Dislikes white belts, yellow balls and iron headcovers. Likes being drawn out of the media ballot to play Augusta National.
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