“To
play or not to play?” that was the question a week ago when Iain
McGregor died suddenly during the final round of the Madeira Islands
Open. To that point, inclement, unpredictable weather had vexed
officials and contestants throughout the week. The European Tour had
reduced the tournament to a thirty-six hole event due to the many
disruptions to play.
Collectively,
contestants, promoters and Tour Chief Executive George O'Grady opted
to finish the event after the necessary delay to move the corpse.
Opting to carry on had the flavor of a tasteless, corny joke, and
press reports as well as reaction on social media had rightly
excoriated it as baffling, bizarre and disrespectful. Few will argue
that an occasion of trauma, chaos, or shock of any kind compounds the
problem of making a hard, rational choice. Such is the fog of war.
Even if one gives the benefit of the doubt, it is almost impossible
to justify this move.
Before
indulging in breast-beating and castigation, perhaps there are
reasons why this was, at the moment, the correct decision. After all,
the matter was deliberated according to the Tour's statement which
cited, “Following
consultation with the players and caddies involved...” Fair enough,
but it is still hard to identify the logic that outweighed the highly
strung emotions of the moment. It was the 1500th
tournament in the Tour's history, but completing a milestone for the
sake of completion diminishes any validity of the milestone being
noteworthy in the first place. The tournament had been interrupted
repeatedly, and there was an opportunity for resolution. What was
that about completing something for its own sake? In the
aforementioned brief statement there was no explicit justification
for carrying on. Merely, it noted that there was a consensus. The
European Tour is a private entity which technically does not have to
provide the why of its actions. However, under these extraordinary
circumstances, a little explanation as to why it undertook this
measure would bolster any claim of just authority over the matter.
Given how little one has to even induce the motives for continuation,
considering the other side of the story and weighing it on the margin
is left up to faith. Skepticism is understandable.
Three
overwhelming moral questions still linger. Why was O'Grady the final
arbiter? What notional value did the decision place on the life of
Iain McGregor? Why did the self-professed notion of community break
down suddenly when it had to step up most? Once a course or club
agrees to stage an event under European Tour sanctions, it
effectively rents its premises to the European Tour. From conduct to
scoring to dress code, the rules of the European Tour prevail at the
site of any tournament it sanctions. So, by the organizational
hierarchical chart, it stands to reason that the top officer would
have say over anything out of the ordinary that the officials on the
ground might not be equipped to handle. Yet, it is startling to
consider that the sponsors and promoters of the event did not
overrule this decision despite having a significant stake. Perhaps
the brands of the companies putting up the prize fund would not be
hurt by public backlash in the aftermath of such callousness.
However, if the chief executive is entrusted to be accountable when
such situations occur, the absence of perspective guiding those
decisions is the crux of the matter. Seemingly, it was a non-use of
power.
Secondly,
if indeed this was a business move, what was at stake? In evaluating
this base decision in the best case scenario of base terms, the idea
of the life of Ian McGregor was not worth more than EUR 600,000 –
the total prize fund of the championship. In the worst case, for any
golfer who completed the event after the incident and cashed a check,
the individual earnings are the relative values each person
determined to be worth greater than the price of conscience. It is
impossible to determine whether some of the players had their own
moral choices to make such as providing for their children, but
continuing en masse to
compete does little to disabuse the perception of professional
golfers as myopic and egotistical. Somehow Alistair Forsyth, Iain's
boss for the event, averring, 'I
felt that was what Mac would have wanted,'
managed to lose top prize for being presumptuous and shocking. Many
metrics assess what a human life is worth statistically. It is hard
to apply one to this situation especially. Yet, the dismissive nature
of the decision and near universal assent to it cheapened Iain's life
and belittled his death.
Upon
his own admission, Chief Executive O'Grady considers the action taken
as wrong. If he knows why it was wrong, he has not admitted so, and
that is no better than having taken the wrong course of action in the
first place. This is insufficient on its own, and the paucity of the
gesture of admission appears more so when expressed as part of the
Tour's PR mantra of being a 'family'. In this crisis moment, the head
of the household has behaved no better than a child who has not
acquired the faculties for critical thought. Regarding the players,
consenting to continue as a group was consensus at its worst. Going
further with the concept of 'family', the decision tacitly admitted
that caddies are still an underclass not quite as equal in status to
players and officials in death as well as in their occupation.
Caddies themselves picked up the bags and went back out, and this
absence of solidarity was what made the least sense. It also did
nothing to repudiate the idea that we are 'rats'.
The
common thread through all involved, barring the noble withdrawal of
Messrs Lawrie, Kaleka, and Pieters as well as anyone else who
declined to continue, was an utter lack of shame. Fittingly, by the
principles of nemesis,
the consequence of our individual and collective behavior will be
shame. We have lost a colleague and a friend. We have lost the moment
to have been great, and with it, much legitimacy and total dignity.
