Golf is in crisis. Memberships are down on average over 25 per cent in the last five years globally – this equates to over 10 million less players on the world’s courses. A course a day closes in the USA while other key markets in Europe are also suffering.
There are many reasons and theories about why golf is facing dark times. It is a game that has had to consistently rebuff criticism over elitism, antiquated institutions and exclusivity. The recent controversy over female membership at both Augusta and Tokyo 2020 – surely an extraordinary debate to be having in 2017 – proved appalling PR for the game.
Meanwhile Wimbledon, the bastion of tradition in tennis, had ended their gender pay gap.
The empty courses, dwindling membership and dearth of young golfers are aspects that cannot be denied, even by the game’s most ardent defenders. It is without question that a root of this problem lies with the sport’s reliance on wealthier, older players in order to survive. Those running the game wrongly believe there is an endless reservoir of players from this demographic who can sustain golf as a major global sport. In an age where technology and innovation are king, golf remains reliant – in both its leadership and membership – on those content with the comfort of the past, not the excitement of the future.
A brief glance at the clubhouses of the world says it all. The average age in many clubs can reach 60 years of age. Add to this the closed tradition that private members’ clubs foster – one of strict dress codes, archaic traditions and conservative social values. With this conservatism comes unwillingness to embrace modernity. There is a rooted status quo that, in the short term, benefits those in charge of golf with quiet clubhouses and familiar faces. It is a metaphorical moat around the castle that keeps things just the way they have always been.
