By any historical standard, definitive comparisons are difficult.
Some have described the move to remove the commissioner of the LPGA from power as a coup d'etat, but since the insurrectionists have failed to stand up and be counted, much less arm themselves with pitchforks or pitching wedges in the public square, that's a bit of a stretch.
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| The economy is challenging, but that doesn't seem to explain all of the problems the LPGA is having. (Getty Images) |
As is sometimes the case with delusional dictators or crazed sea captains, the underlings at the LPGA had finally had enough and last week forwarded a letter to the tour's executive committee asking that commissioner Carolyn Bivens be cast adrift in a leaky lifeboat. Preferably yesterday.
Most of us have watched the unprecedented scenario play out from dry land with a detached sense of interest and amusement. As both Bivens and players have scattered into the shadows this week rather than address the biggest hot-button issue in golf at the moment, a zillion loose ends remain.
But the biggest question is simple.
What took so long?
Roughly a dozen players, including the biggest stars in the women's game, last week met in an Ohio restaurant and crafted a letter to the tour board of directors asking that Bivens, who has 1½ years left on her contract, hit the road early. Before they walked into the eatery, they'd finally had their fill of what the commish was dishing out.
Torpedoed in Toledo -- what a way to go. Yet like everything associated with Bivens' tumultuous four-year tenure, what might have been a quick, bloodless change in command promises to instead be a drawn-out, occasionally comedic affair. This is going to be like watching the French Army, funny hats included.
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At the moment, Bivens is not predisposed to be deposed, though most believe it's an inevitability.
"I think it's now a matter of when [Bivens is ousted]," said Dottie Pepper, a longtime LPGA star and now an analyst for multiple broadcast networks. "This is pretty much the ultimate vote of no-confidence. Frankly, something needs to be done."
According to a GolfWorld report that didn't cite names, Bivens plans to dig in her feet and fight, which of course, an exercise that's as moot as it is ridiculous. She might as well be Sarah Palin, since it's all over but her salary settlement and fishing trips. Bivens first alienated the media and a handful of key sponsors -- seven tournaments have disappeared in the past two years with several more teetering on the cusp of extinction -- and now she has lost her most popular players.
They had mostly been her allies until the Kapalua event, set for the fall in Hawaii, bailed last week with four years remaining on the resort's LPGA contract. That was the proverbial last straw, although the bales long before had begun to pile high.
Bivens this week is in hiding, avoiding questions and answers, ensuring the controversy lasts at least a few more days, if not weeks. The players involved in the attempted coup have been almost unanimously mute instead of fessing up and detailing the rationale behind the rebellion. Like the Bay of Pigs, sort of.
Not that we can't guess the reasons. Short of using napalm in her dealings with tournaments, sponsors and media, Bivens couldn't possibly have created more scorched earth since taking over in 2005 for Ty Votaw.
The players finally came to the realization that Bivens has continued to play negotiation hardball with tournaments and potential sponsors, essentially asking for increased sanctioning fees, even though she had lost leverage. But it wasn't just about the flagging economy. Her personality and leadership style eventually came to be viewed as part of the problem.
"This tour has survived a lot more recessions than just this one," Pepper said. "But I don't think the players wanted to face reality."
Reality now faces them. According to reports, those present at the meeting included Lorena Ochoa, Paula Creamer, Morgan Pressel, Suzann Pettersen, Natalie Gulbis, Cristie Kerr, Yani Tseng and rookie Michelle Wie.
Bivens was considered a far-afield hire in the first place, since she had no formal sports background. Nonetheless, she became the first female commissioner in the history of the LPGA, the oldest professional women's league on the planet. In a twisted way, Bivens' gender might have worked against the tour. Players perhaps felt an obligation to give her second and third chances when a male might have been shown the door far earlier, given the litany of public-relations disasters in her tenure.
"I don't think it's a female issue," Pepper said after pondering the possibility of reverse sexism of sorts. "It's a competency issue. It's about non-performance, about not getting the job done."
Conveniently enough, Bivens has been a no-show this week at the biggest tournament of the year, which is technically run by the USGA.
"First rule of leadership -- you have to be accountable," Pepper said.
Instead, the only accounting is how many times she's crawled behind her desk to hide. Recall the vilified English-only stricture that was bandied about a few months ago, which ultimately blew up in the LPGA's face? Bivens was unavailable for comment, leaving her moderately competent deputies in the lurch to face irate players and questioners.
"I drew the long straw," said Libba Galloway, the LPGA official who had to fend off the attacks while Bivens dived for cover.
It wasn't funny then and is even less humorous now. As the bad ink climbs to the point where barrels are required to contain it, Bivens' staffers have characterized her as "unavailable for comment" this week, just as she was a month ago when pointed questions needed to be asked at the foundering LPGA Championship, a major championship, staged by the tour, that has no sponsor in place.
Hopefully, she is home calling her real estate agent, because in addition to her accountability, credibility packed up and left town a while back, too.
Last month, she stated in a tape-recorded interview with Bloomberg News that she "loved the idea" of players sending out Twitter messages in the middle of rounds. Media-savvy Morgan Pressel, who was said to be openly advocating Bivens' removal at the Toledo player meeting, scoffed at the Twittering suggestion. Never mind the tape, Bivens eventually said she had been quoted out of context.
Clearly, she has to go. Whether the LPGA possesses the war-chest reserves to buy her out is uncertain, but her continued presence is a roadblock to progress. What responsible sponsor, assuming the tour has located any that might be considering taking over a tournament or renewing a contract, would jump aboard a foundering boat at this point?
Business 101: The first question when discussing contracts is, "So, who's in charge here?"
Nobody, apparently, including those trying to topple the hierarchy. As bad as Bivens' moves have backfired, the players deserve huge catcalls for failing to speak up about their role in the insurrection -- although it should be noted that the LPGA is exerting pressure to silence the criticism.
A highly placed industry source said Wednesday that rising star Tseng was given written notice from the tour before her Tuesday press session, asking that she not answer questions about Bivens' status. Kerr, who was among the players at the Toledo meeting, said she would talk about her winemaking activities, but not the commissioner's fate.
Where's Fletcher Christian when you need him, somebody willing to brandish a sword and exert their will? Like their boss, few players have managed to muster a first stand, much less a last one.
"I am a business major; however, I am not a business professional," tour veteran Wendy Ward, who was not among those at the Toledo meeting, told the San Antonio News-Express. "I play golf for a living. But one of the key responsibilities as a professional golfer is to maintain relationships with my sponsors. If we don't keep the sponsors happy, then we lose their interest."
For months, players have been getting an earful from pro-am partners, who often happen to be officials in the companies sponsoring the weekly events. Call me a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, but things have gotten pretty bad when you can get a dozen women with menus in their hands to agree on anything. Things are even worse when you can get a golfer to do anything other than complain. Grousing, espousing and golf go hand in hand. Decisive action? Not so much.
This is historic stuff. Over the past few decades, the only notable commissioner forced to vacate the throne was Fay Vincent, who in 1992 stepped down after receiving a no-confidence vote from the owners in Major League Baseball.
Pepper pointed out an apt parallel that summarized the LPGA situation nicely. Women's golf occupies a niche within a niche sport and surely is feeling the effect of the ailing economy more than the PGA Tour. But still.
"Look at the Champions Tour," she said. "You don't hear about their sponsorship issues or much about any disappearing tournaments. They have hung on; they have done very well."
So, for the women, it no longer was a matter of what had gone wrong.
It was more of a who.
