We would be cunts

“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 1500^th 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.