Numerous constituencies are irked about ticket prices for the 2025 Ryder Cup, a stout $749 per day that’s equivalent to fees for nine weekend rounds at Bethpage Black, or the beer budget for a couple foursomes of its habitués. The most vocal are golf fans who are feeling gouged or simply priced out, and commentators (at least those not proudly in the tank for the PGA of America), who see pricing wholly at odds with both the municipal ethos of the venue and the ‘grow the game’ mandate of the organizers.
One constituency we haven’t heard from is the players who compete for the U.S., but one assumes that smoke has been billowing from Patrick Cantlay’s overheating calculator as he tallies gate receipts, broadcast rights, hospitality sales and merchandising, while wondering why his sort get only a $200,000 charitable donation in their names. He won’t be the only player looking askance at this controversy. That will pain the PGA of America, which prizes nothing more than being positively reviewed in the locker room.
How organizers arrived at $749 is neither clear nor relevant. They obviously believe the market will support it, and they’ll be proved correct. The Ryder Cup will sell out, but then so did last year’s U.S. Open at Los Angeles Country Club, when too many tickets went to club members who preferred to sit in suites and rattle their jewelry than to cheer on the rope line. The PGA of America runs on a four-year budget cycle funded by proceeds from domestic Ryder Cups, so the revenue generated at Bethpage is crucial to bridge the organization until Hazeltine in ’29.
Of course, there’s a way for the PGA of America to more comfortably underwrite operations, fund championships and devote greater resources to the education and employment goals of its members: it could sell the Ryder Cup.
Regardless of the fact that the last five Cups have been decidedly short on drama and close finishes, the event will never be more valuable than it is at this moment, when private equity is circling the sport’s biggest assets. There are compelling reasons why the PGA of America should cash in with a sale, beyond no longer having to indulge gripes about ticket prices.
Keegan Bradley of the United States tees off on the 1st hole during the Morning Fourballs of the 2014 Ryder Cup on the PGA Centenary course at the Gleneagles Hotel on September 26, 2014 in Auchterarder, Scotland. (Photo by Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images)
Given the division and evident erosion of the audience for men’s professional golf, the media rights landscape could be unfavorable when the Ryder Cup broadcast deal expires in 2031. The day could also be near when players make their move — demanding not just payment for participating, but an ownership stake. Why assume their power grab ends with the PGA Tour when other organizations also profit off their work? The argument about representing one’s country will be no governor since players have air cover on that with the Olympics and Presidents Cup. Which points to the most obvious buyer of a Ryder Cup: the players themselves, through the vehicle of PGA Tour Enterprises, the for-profit entity now flush with private investment cash.
The Ryder Cup would surely fetch several billion dollars at sale, which in the hands of an investment team would lavishly endow the PGA of America’s objectives and championships in perpetuity. For a trade association, that is forever money.
Still, there will be internal resistance to selling. Pride and legacy will factor, a desire to retain ownership of two of the sport’s five biggest assets, even if their original counterparts in Europe (the PGA of Great Britain and Ireland) long ago receded to ‘founding partner’ status while cashing a check. But the most daunting hurdle will be the PGA of America’s governance structure, in which its officers—often with parochial concerns—wield tremendous power over the decision-making of a billion-dollar global enterprise.
The benefits that PGA members enjoy at Ryder Cups (like access and hospitality) could be protected in any transaction, but the perks enjoyed by some serving and former officers (like being traveled hither and yon to the Ryder Cup) are another matter, and that group is a powerful bloc within the association. There are a few snouts that won’t easily be dislodged from the trough.
In defending ticket prices to reporter Sean Zak, the Ryder Cup championship director, Bryan Karns, said that his lens is helping the PGA of America’s 30,000 members grow the game on the front lines. That noble mission would be made easier with a substantial endowment generated by a sale rather than being cobbled together every four years, and it wouldn’t be hostage to a volatile market or a pandemic, as happened with the last Cup held in the U.S.
Given the troubled state of men’s golf, a raft of tough decisions awaits whoever takes over as CEO of the PGA of America (Seth Waugh stepped down in June and a successor has not yet been named). How best to future-proof the association’s ability to serve its members and mission will be a high priority. Perhaps the next leader can persuade colleagues that a clear path to safeguarding the next century is to exploit this moment and sell what was built over the last century.
