Golf, but quieter: Is this the end of LIV Golf?

WESTFIELD, Ind. -- The music is stubborn and relentless, moving clumsily from rap to country to pop. At the Club at Chatham Hills, where the beat reverberates throughout the housing complex that surrounds the golf course with sameness, LIV Golf wants to convince everybody in attendance that they are guests at a party and not witnesses at a wake. A smattering of fans sit on a small hill next to the par-3 12th tee box -- this week's "party hole," LIV's version of the 16th at the Phoenix WM Open -- sun-smacked and coated in layers of sweat. On the other side of the tee, a barricaded section labeled for holders of the "Grounds +" pass hosts no more than six people. The get-in price for the premium area was $81 at the beginning of the day, but by Thursday afternoon, it had been slashed to $53 just as Dustin Johnson stepped into the makeshift box and LIV's emcee tried his best to get the sparse crowd going. "Come on guys, let's get up, we got DJ!" Jon Rahm and Bryson DeChambeau are LIV's biggest draws. Johnson is its forgotten man. When he left the PGA Tour in 2022, he was just a year removed from being the No. 1 player in the world. Now, he's two years removed from his last victory and has recorded five missed cuts and no top-10s in majors over the past three years. Nevertheless, he has made nearly $70 million in winnings on top of the initial $125 million contract he signed. Like several others, he is a strutting symbol of what LIV has given and what it has taken. "Make some noise!" The emcee pleads with the crowd before the actual DJ plays Morgan Wallen's "Just in Case," Johnson's chosen walk-up song. Johnson makes contact with the ball and winces -- his patented fade doesn't fade. A few groups later, when it is Tyrrell Hatton's turn to swing, the DJ plays his song choice: Queen's "I Want to Break Free." FROM THE BEGINNING, music has been an inextricable part of the LIV Golf experience. High-profile artists such as Macklemore (Houston in 2024), the Backstreet Boys (Riyadh in 2025) and Tiesto (Chicago in 2023) are among the acts who have been brought in to expand LIV's appeal. Last year, Imagine Dragons and Swedish House Mafia played at LIV's season-ending Michigan event, and Jason Derulo performed in Indianapolis. This year, after LIV was forced to cancel scheduled concerts featuring Thomas Rhett and Disco Lines a week out, the place where the giant festival stage once stood at Chatham Hills was now just an empty field of grass next to the driving range. "People are stuck with their tickets now -- they paid for the concert," one volunteer said early in the week before dishing his own opinion of LIV's chances at survival. "They're done." In April, the Public Investment Fund of Saudi Arabia, which pumped billions into LIV, suddenly announced it would fund the league only through the rest of the season. That sent LIV CEO Scott O'Neil scrambling to find new investors and players wondering if they needed to try to find a place to play in 2027 while putting events in jeopardy, and it led to multiple lawsuits from vendors still seeking payments. "It was a shock," a LIV source said of the PIF's announcement. "Everyone was like, 'What the f---?'" LIV canceled its New Orleans event earlier this year and just last week finally announced that the season-ending championship in Michigan would also be eliminated. Indy remained, transformed haphazardly into a free-for-all for the seasonlong team title with $30 million on the line ($10 million less than in 2025) and the individual purse cut in half. "I've got a question: Is it just whoever wins the team championship gets the ring and we just get an Instagram post? That's it?" Belgian player Thomas Pieters asked at his Saturday news conference, unable to keep up with the competition's changing parameters. Amid financial constraints, the buildout at Chatham Hills suffered too. The 2025 Indianapolis event featured entertainment options such as a RangeGoats GC-branded petting zoo, a miniature golf course, a shaded kids' zone and several other activations. This year, the fan zone was limited to a small corner of the property where mulch covered a muddy pit and the kids' area was simply a climbing sphere and some toys. Instead of a mini golf setup with actual holes that fans could play, three small putting rugs were rolled out with a half-filled bucket of yellow range balls nearby. Elsewhere onsite, fans expressed their disappointment about the canceled concerts. Chatham Hills members were, according to one individual with knowledge of the situation, upset about the late cancellation of the entertainment. Vendors on Thursday complained about the development and said they were expecting to make far less on sales than they did last year. After a sleepy Thursday, though, a more fervent crowd showed up Friday, and it continued to grow by the weekend. When LIV has gone to places such as Australia, South Africa or Indianapolis that haven't regularly hosted top-flight professional golf, people have shown up. But solid ticket sales for a couple of events a year won't pay the bills. That's why, away from the course, LIV executives were trying to figure out what 2027 will look like. The league that once thumped its chest and enticed players away from the PGA Tour with hundreds of millions of dollars in guaranteed money now had a plethora of problems and no more PIF cash to rely on. After announcing that the league had signed a term sheet with an investor at its New York event, O'Neil tried to portray confidence this week in Indianapolis. Though a final agreement has not been reached and details about the nature of the investment remain unclear, it was notable then that, with the league's future hanging in the balance, O'Neil noticeably took on a posture of reflection and cooperation at the dais. "[LIV] certainly was disruptive and at times divisive," O'Neil said. "Our goal isn't to replace or restrict any tour. Golf doesn't need one tour to win and everyone else to lose. "There are hurdles we have to jump over. It's a very complex transaction we'll have to deliver, but man, I wouldn't bet against us." Away from the podium, the signs were not encouraging. On the driving range, players openly discussed delayed payments. Behind the scenes, LIV employees wondered about what would happen to their roles once the season ended. All of this took place while a plane flew overhead with a Legion XII banner hanging from it featuring the phrase "Together We Conquer." Rhett's music, in his absence, blared across the grounds. THE PING OF Michael La Sasso's driver echoes across the near-empty driving range Tuesday as he launches balls into the fading afternoon. The 22-year-old -- hat off, hair flowing, face reddening -- is uncorking, each swing more violent than the last. Each time, he allows himself to show a bit more frustration. Nearly every other one of LIV's players has left the premises following a 50-minute meeting with O'Neil and proposed lead investor Ted Goldthorpe of BC Partners. It is there, in those rooms, that LIV's fate is being decided. But out here, La Sasso is contorting his body in pursuit of a drive that fits his eye. It has been just seven months since La Sasso, winner of the 2025 NCAA individual championship, opted to forgo his earned invitation to the 2026 Masters in favor of a spot on Phil Mickelson's HyFlyers. The promise of worldwide events and perhaps mentorship from an all-time great persuaded La Sasso to make the leap. But Mickelson, who played a pivotal role in helping LIV go mainstream, is nowhere to be seen, and La Sasso has struggled. His best finish at a LIV event before this week was a T-12 in South Africa. In the other 10 events he played he hasn't finished better than T-31. His Official World Golf Ranking status heading into the week was No. 1,900. "It's been an interesting year," La Sasso said in Indianapolis after shooting a 60 in the second round. "I kind of was talking with a couple people on my team ... I feel like it's probably one of the harder tours to adjust to just with all the grass types and jet lag and everything." La Sasso is one of a handful of young players, including DP World Tour winner David Puig and the 2024 U.S. Amateur winner Josele Ballester, who put their immediate future in LIV's hands and are now trying to figure out whether and when to hit the reset button. Ballester, for example, is one of several players who have already signed up for DP World Tour qualifying school. Whatever La Sasso was looking for Tuesday, by Sunday he had more than found it as he finished 18 under and secured his first pro victory. In a different context, the feat could have been framed as the first momentous step on his LIV journey. It is more likely now to simply facilitate setting up his next destination. Throughout the week in Indianapolis, players were evasive about their futures. Some, such as Hatton, winked while others balked at any kind of commitment following the meeting with Goldthorpe. Only a few said they would stick with LIV no matter what. "I'm committed to being here," Brendan Steele said. "This is where I want to be. This has been home for me for the last four years." For Steele, 43, the stage of his career might be the most important factor. For others such as Dean Burmester, the experience he had at LIV's South Africa event earlier this year was impactful enough to make him want to see this through. "It's not just about golf; I think golf is just a part of life," Burmester said. "All of this is way bigger than life, and it's probably above my pay grade. The proposed LIV 2.0, whatever you want to call it, I think it's very, very promising and it looks great. I think the model is certainly sustainable." Yet as LIV reached its finale, what became clearer than ever was how much of the league's survival was contingent on the benevolence of the golf establishment it once tried to upend. LET'S TALK ABOUT Bryson DeChambeau. He is LIV's poster boy. The player most people come to see. And even though he is still high-fiving kids in between holes and doing his best to dole out autographs, he seems on edge. On Tuesday, he walked toward the driving range only to glance toward a group of media members -- myself included -- and blurt out an unprompted barb: "The mafia! The mafia is here. You guys love talking s---." Later, he would walk past media requests following the meeting with Goldthorpe by exiting the clubhouse with his phone to his ear. On Wednesday, he would have a different media member kicked off the driving range while he struggled to find his swing, only to call that reporter later and explain himself. By Thursday, he had been interviewed by the broadcast and, like O'Neil, sent out his own plea to the rest of the golf world, one that included something DeChambeau hadn't really acknowledged before: the possibility of this all not working out. "It's tough," DeChambeau said. "It's not easy. We definitely have a lot against us. I hope people can see that we actually bring value to the game of golf. My wish is that people give us one more shot and be open-minded. "If it works, it works; awesome. If it doesn't, we'll figure things out." DeChambeau's contract ended Sunday once the final putt of LIV Golf dropped. If he decides to leave the tour in 2027, it could be the final nail in LIV's coffin. The two-time U.S. Open champion has been involved in LIV's quest for resources and led a players meeting at their event in New York, but he has also, in the past, discussed the possibility of not playing any tour at all. He would, he says, simply play the majors and make videos for his YouTube channel, which has 2.84 million subscribers. It's hard to tell how serious he is about the idea. Maybe he doesn't know. In some ways, no one has benefited more from LIV than DeChambeau. Since he won the 2024 U.S. Open, he's exempt in all four majors until at least 2028. But a return to the PGA in the near future seems unlikely given that DeChambeau was part of a lawsuit filed against the Tour in 2022 after he joined LIV. He has also acknowledged that certain PGA Tour players don't want him back. It's no surprise then that DeChambeau has been at the forefront of trying to push LIV 2.0 through. For better or worse, this has become his comfort zone, the place where he can position himself as an international figure trying to grow the game. He'll be happy to keep doing so. That is, if LIV can meet his price. As of last year, DeChambeau was looking for a new contract worth up to $500 million, according to a report by The Telegraph. Even under the PIF management, that number would have seemed high, but now it appears far beyond reach. O'Neil reportedly pitched potential investors earlier this year seeking an initial $250 to $300 million in funding just to keep the entire league going. Since the PIF exited the scene (a source explained that even though LIV needs the fund to approve a deal if it were to happen, the expectation is that it will not remain on board in any capacity) O'Neil & Co. have had to dream up a structure for LIV that could eventually make money. The 2.0 version of the circuit that he pitched to investors features 10 total events, five international and five stateside stops being dubbed "signature events." Sound familiar? O'Neil has touted player equity in the product and ultimate flexibility to play other tours, but access to the rest of the golf ecosystem, at the moment, seems unlikely. The PGA Tour has shown that it will not accept LIV players back with open arms. The DP World Tour, which has a strategic alliance with the PGA Tour, notified members and nonmembers who play on LIV that they might be fined if they try to play both tours next year even though it is allowing players who paid their outstanding fines the ability to play this fall. With just 10 events on LIV's theoretical schedule, most players will need to fill out their year with other events to earn enough OWGR points for majors. One source described the tour's current stance toward LIV's attempt to have its players play on other tours under the 2.0 proposal as "stonewalling." "It seems counter to where the golf is going," O'Neil said of the DPWT's stance. "But I can't answer for them." The urgency in O'Neil's comments on cooperation were telling. In February, O'Neil projected to the Financial Times that it will take between five and 10 more years for the league to become profitable. That kind of runway, at the moment, appears far-fetched and so O'Neil has attempted to sing a different tune. As LIV faces a "compressed" timeline, O'Neil has tried to position LIV 2.0 not as a disruptor but as an added source of value to the golf world. So far, it is unclear if anyone besides Goldthorpe is buying. O'NEIL IS SPEEDWALKING. The countdown to LIV's shotgun start is on and he makes it to the first tee just in time to watch Hatton, Johnson and Joaquín Niemann set off on their second round. Most fans flock to DeChambeau's group, but not many notice that the man clad in khakis and a black polo is at the center of the entire enterprise. One bystander perks up. "Scott," he calls out. "Good luck next year!" O'Neil acknowledges the fan, but it's unclear if he heard the message. The music is already at full volume. The music has always been a distraction. Money propped this league up far longer than many expected, and it is money, or lack thereof, that might spell its demise. Even as La Sasso secured the individual win Sunday and Rahm's Legion XIII celebrated the team victory that added $8.4 million to its earnings, there was a sense of not just finality but emptiness too. Earlier Thursday, a fan walked next to the first green, where a multimillion-dollar home stood unfinished and a makeshift fence tried its best to cover up the sore sight. The round had been done for some time, but the music was still going. Alongside the uphill fairway next to a pair of speakers, the fan turned to his friends. "Does it feel like music has been turned down this year?" The song playing was Riley Green's "Hell of a Way to Go."