What the PGA Tour Could Have Learned by Watching The Contender
By Steven Goldberg, CEO
CEO
After hearing the stunning news of the LIV Golf and PGA Tour merger, the plot of the 2000 political thriller The Contender immediately came to mind. Like many others, my first thought was about the hypocrisy of the PGA Tour and the reputational crisis the tour and its Commissioner, Jay Monahan, are about to face.
Starring Jeff Bridges, Joan Allen, and Gary Oldman, The Contender is one of the best political films of the last few decades. I also believe there are great teachings in the movie about strategic communications and the importance of thinking several steps ahead. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from having worked with some of the world’s best litigators on many notable white collar and other high-stakes litigation matters is to never say anything publicly that could damage credibility – whether it’s because there could be evidence that contradicts the statement, or because you may have to change your position in the future as facts come to light or circumstances evolve. That’s when previous statements can cause a crisis more acute than the situation itself.
First, a brief synopsis of the film for those who haven’t seen it:
The main storyline demonstrates the importance of the principle described above. The plot centers on the desire of President Jackson Evans (played by Jeff Bridges) to appoint a junior female Senator (played by Joan Allen) as his new Vice President after the untimely death of the elected Vice President. Standing in his way is Congressman Shelly Runyon (played by Gary Oldman), chair of the House Confirmation Committee, who not only believes the female Senator is unqualified, but also wants to deny President Evans a legacy of appointing the first female to the Vice Presidency.
After Runyon apparently succeeds in making Hanson’s appointment politically untenable, there is a dynamic scene in which President Evans purports to concede defeat to Runyon and asks him who he would like to see nominated for Vice President instead. When Runyon takes the bait and expresses his preference for a long-tenured Governor, the President accedes, but only on the condition that Runyon publicly expresses his full support for him. The President explains to Runyon that he wants “an insurance policy” and needs him “to make a public statement that makes his sinking your sinking.” Runyon reluctantly agrees and makes a statement to the media fully endorsing the Governor as the only person alive “who could bring more integrity to the office of the Vice Presidency.”
What Runyon doesn’t know when he makes that public statement (but what President Evan does) is that the Governor committed an egregious ethical and likely criminal violation that disqualifies him as a nominee – and at the same time discredits Runyon due to his unequivocal endorsement. Shortly after this fact is revealed to Runyon, he tells the President that he set him up. Indeed, he did, but it was only possible because Runyon made the strategic communications error of taking a definitive position without knowing all the facts.
For more than a year, Monahan has loudly criticized LIV Golf (as well as the PGA Tour players that defected) because of LIV’s ownership by the Saudi Arabian sovereign wealth fund controlled by Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. Monahan has leveraged public opposition to Saudi Arabia due to, among other things, its human rights record, the murder of Jamal Khashoggi, and its role in 9/11.
Monahan distanced himself from the Saudis and tied himself to a position even more forcefully than Shelly Runyon tied himself to the soon-to-be-disgraced Governor, and he did so consistently for a year and a half. He enlisted prominent PGA Tour stars to take up the anti-LIV/Saudi cause on the PGA Tour’s behalf, and many did so while turning down eight and nine figure offers from the LIV Golf Tour. Now, the sudden, hypocritical, and inexplicable reversal of course has created an acute crisis of credibility and reputation for Monahan and others in a leadership position at the PGA Tour.
ESPN’s Marc Schlabach summarized the situation well when he wrote: “After months of defending the PGA Tour and criticizing the source of LIV Golf’s funding at every turn, Monahan made an abrupt eight-inch hell turn, leaving golf fans and his own tour members to question everything they’d heard from him for more than a year.”
Rampant speculation about how this transpired so quickly and without any communication with the PGA Tour players will continue, and some of those details and behind-the-scenes forces are beginning to come to light. That is a separate communications issue. The real crisis, at least for the moment, is the hypocrisy and the shattered credibility of Monahan and the PGA Tour, which is now effectively owned by Saudi Arabia. Many — even including some players – have stated that directly.
I wonder if Monahan has ever seen The Contender and the critical mistake Shelly Runyon made by communicating a definitive position without knowing the facts or anticipating the possibility that circumstances might change. If he had, or if he had a more long-term communications strategy that anticipated potential outcomes of the PGA Tour’s conflict with LIV Golf, he might have taken a less definitive public stance for the past 18 months and left himself with a path toward a peaceful resolution and partnership with LIV that didn’t destroy his credibility and reputation. I found it particularly interesting that one of the comments Monahan made in his first press conference following announcement of the merger was, “Anytime I said anything, I said it with the information that I had at that moment.” Perhaps that is true, but it’s also true that what he said did not seem to contemplate the facts he didn’t have at the moment or how circumstances could change in the future, including the legal exposure the PGA Tour had with respect to antitrust issues and otherwise, which may have been the driving factor in the sudden merger announcement, and Saudi Arabia’s deep pocketed commitment to pursuing ownership of the game of golf.
As Shelly Runyon learned the hard way, and as I’ve learned well from working alongside many brilliant lawyers, you can’t communicate beyond the facts that are known at the time, and you shouldn’t communicate a definitive position unless you are certain that the circumstances supporting the position won’t change.