We’ve been hearing a lot of “shrink the game” comments over the past few years. In a nutshell, people think that golf’s popularity boom has included a little too much riffraff.
Everyone’s definition of this is a little bit different. We hear “shrink the game” in response to drunken frat bros, content creators, brand activations, playing music on the course, the Masters Par 3 Contest with Jason Kelce, flash mob dances at LIV events, those hats with the giant letters and the general Phoenix Open-ification of the game.
Let’s draw a line in the sand: I despise the “shrink the game” movement more than anything else I just mentioned.
Specifically, I abhor how “shrink the game” has become the go-to saying for anything within golf that people don’t like.
What “shrink the game” should really mean
Here is my definition of “shrink the game.”
If you are using golf to get blackout drunk, vandalize property, crash carts, make other people’s experience worse because of your existence in the golf space, refuse to take care of the course you are playing on … we don’t want you in the game.
Yes, let’s shrink that part of the game. Let’s shame the people who have absolutely no respect for golf. These are the people who don’t belong.
But if we’re talking about other elements of golf that have come on the scene since the pandemic, it’s super unfair to pick and choose who we are shaming.
So if someone is really into YouTube golf or TGL, we should make them feel bad?
If someone wants to play golf in a T-shirt and shorts, we should make them feel bad?
If someone wants to join one of those high-end simulator social clubs, we should make them feel bad?
No, we shouldn’t. Golf should be welcoming to those people. Just because something isn’t for you doesn’t mean someone else can’t participate that way within golf.
I love many of the traditional parts of golf. I don’t love all of them. I also love some of the modern elements of golf. I don’t love all of them. You can pick and choose what you want to do.
The whole conversation reminds me of Nashville, my hometown. There is a lot of energy spent talking about how Nashville isn’t like it used to be. How it’s totally devolved into commercialized honky tonks and a wasteland of the worst people you’ll ever meet.
There is some merit to that. Cities grow and there are consequences to growth.
Like visiting a city, golf is whatever you want it to be.
You could play golf with music while wearing gym clothes. You could be an architecture nerd studying old Alister Mackenzie blueprints.
Hey, I prefer the latter—but neither is wrong.
Save “shrink the game” for the morons
Hopefully, I have been consistent on this point throughout every article I write.
I’ll talk about missing pre-pandemic golf when courses weren’t packed but will also admit that it’s much better than the alternative.
I’ll talk about golf traditions you’ll have to pry from my cold, dead hands but will also say that those traditions are a personal preference that not everyone will want to choose.
I’ll talk about how I disliked Kelce being at the Masters Par 3 Contest—OK, that one was an “old man yells at cloud” take (but seriously, who asked for Kelce being there?).
My ultimate point here is that golf should remain welcoming. Have it your way but don’t piss on someone else’s Cheerios. We can all say we don’t like something without saying it should be eradicated entirely.
We want participation to be strong. We want innovation to happen. We want new ideas.
Not every trend is going to be a winner. There will be some cringing. I hate quite a few of them, and I’ll write about how I don’t like them. I also like some of them, and I’ve written about those as well.
Let’s be more selective with our “shrink the game” comments. For the good of the game.
Top Photo Caption: Tarps off at the WM Phoenix Open. (GETTY IMAGES/Alex Goodlet)