Tale of the Tape: Five Years After Its Schedule Change, a Breakdown of PGA Championship in May vs. August
It still feels funny almost five years later, like a kegger that ends before midnight or the nettlesome aunt who decides to fly home two days early. By practical standards, the scheduling shuffle that sheared a month off the PGA Tour season was a change of necessary convenience. Staging the FedEx Cup playoffs in September made no more sense than drag racing against an 18-wheeler. You might finish first, but you certainly weren’t going to win.
Having finally realized the futility of competing with the NFL for weekend viewership and commensurate public interest, the lords of pro golf embarked on a business-wise reconfiguration that launched in 2019. The postseason moved to August, necessitating a transfer of the PGA Championship from the dog days of summer to the third week in May. Accordingly, the Players Championship reverted to its original dates in March, comprising a sequence of events contingent on the PGA of America’s willingness to ditch the corniest slogan in sports (Glory’s Last Shot) and host its major at a time of year when a lot of folks are still trying to get their lawn mower started.
If the grass didn’t always grow greener on the other side of the calendar, it wouldn’t have become a cliche. The PGA of America embraced the change, but it also knew spring could prove problematic when the tournament was held in the northeast and midwest—home to a majority of the game’s most hallowed venues. When the PGA made its May debut four years ago at Bethpage, Mother Nature almost missed her wakeup call. Long Island temperatures were topping out in the 40s right up until game time. The high that Tuesday was 41 degrees, accompanied by a steady drizzle and the long faces of tour pros longing for Boca Raton.
Next week’s gathering at Oak Hill can’t promise them any better, but there is far more to the May-vs.-August discussion than a day of chilly rain. The PGA has always had to work harder than the other majors to validate its lofty status. It’s one of those snobby little nuances within the game that most people will never understand, which makes it a topic of conversation for those who do. Is May a mistake in the making, or was it a bold move by an organization forever trying to prove itself? We break it down here in a tale-of-the-tape comparison.
Course Considerations
The PGA caught a lot of flak in the 1980s and ’90s for holding its marquee event at places some considered unfit to host a major. Shoal Creek, Kemper Lakes, even Crooked Stick, where John Daly triumphed in 1991—it was a step down from the previous decade, when the list of sites included Oakland Hills (twice), Pebble Beach, Congressional and Oakmont. In accepting the move to May, the PGA surely envisioned the chance to play in the southeast, which was never a serious consideration in the dead of summer. Or Texas, which hasn’t hosted a major since the 1969 U.S. Open. Good intentions, for sure, but it’s the same mentality that led to the PGA’s dented image in the aforementioned era.
Is it a better idea to stick with traditional favorites, or commit to unproven courses in regions where majors are rarely played? You don’t buy a wedding dress at Wal-Mart. You don’t get married in the parking lot, and you don’t sell the world’s biggest golf tournaments to a club that hasn’t earned them.
Advantage: August
Watching at Home
Seeing how the PGA has generated a larger final-round audience than the U.S. Open in four of the last five years, the move to May looks pretty brilliant. August might be the slowest month on the sports calendar, if such a thing exists, and people probably watch less TV in the eighth month than any other. Of course, it also helps when Phil Mickelson is making legitimate golf history as the oldest guy ever to win a major, which boosted ratings in 2021, or when Tiger Woods is in serious contention down the stretch, as was the case at the last PGA played in August (2018). The fact that an American has won the tournament every year since 2016 doesn’t hurt matters, but the U.S. Open’s ponderous, plodding nature might have more to do with it getting passed by the PGA than anything else. Maybe dads would rather go out and make their own bogeys on Father’s Day than watch the world’s best players do it.
Advantage: May
Watching On-Site
Not to pick on August or anything, but it’s hot. Very hot. Hot enough to choose an air-conditioned basement and a hi-def TV over a seat behind the 7th green and a $7 cup of soda pop. The crowds have been great at several recent PGAs, which only exacerbated the funereal atmosphere during Collin Morikawa’s thrilling victory at the COVID-19-restricted affair in 2020. The bedlam that broke out as Mickelson applied the final touches the following May at Kiawah Island was a bit messy, but seriously? One might guess the PGA of America didn’t mind that chaos one bit. Crowd energy is a vital component to golf’s optimum viewing experience. Baba-booey, baby!
Advantage: May
Playing Conditions
Oak Hill was booked as this year’s site before the move from August was formalized. With a tip of the cap to Rochester’s penchant for tiptoeing into summer, however, next week’s affair could provide a vibe as to how PGAs in May will play in a cold-weather climate. Every year is different. Every major venue is impeccably groomed by the finest agronomical minds on earth, but Mother Nature is still the boss—and Oak Hill is a serious bully, rain or shine. The August version of the tournament was frequently compromised by the soft greens that come with thunderstorms, turning it into a major in disguise, which shouldn’t be an issue in upstate New York. As for future PGAs below the Mason-Dixon Line, May is a sure bet to offer a premium playing conditions, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Majors weren’t meant to be a picnic in the park. Tougher is better than easy every day of the week.
Advantage: May
Auxiliary Factors
The PGA has a brighter horizon in the spring, not only for the reasons outlined above, but the overall effect its relocation had on the schedule. The Players was meant to be held in March. Otherwise, former Tour commissioner Deane Beman, a visionary if pro golf ever had one, wouldn’t have slotted it there. The decision to move it to May wasn’t necessarily a mistake because the tournament had already established its identity as the biggest non-major in the game, but TPC Sawgrass was designed and seeded with certain competitive characteristics in mind, meaning the course itself is more challenging and rewarding in the early spring.
To say the same about the FedEx Cup playoffs would be an exaggeration. The series has failed to gain traction for several reasons—frequent changes in the format, a convoluted scoring system, too many participants at the outset and a ridiculous amount of emphasis on the season’s final week. Amid all those faults, it doesn’t connect with sports fans as a postseason of significance due to the 12 years it spent colliding with football, stunting its growth to the point where the damage may be irreparable.
Those 18-wheelers can really leave a mark.