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Alright, let’s cut the crap. We need to talk about the Players Championship. Some folks, and yeah, I’m looking at you, Brandel, are out there saying this thing is the *best* major. The absolute pinnacle. Better than the Masters, better than the U.S. Open, better than the bloody British Open, and even the PGA Championship. It’s a bold take. A loud take. And frankly, it’s a take that needs a serious talking to.
Look, I get it. The Players has gotten huge. The money’s insane. The field? Stacked. You could argue it’s the deepest field in golf, bar none. Every top player, every single one, is there. They’re not skipping it to go hunt elk or whatever some guys do before the Masters. They’re there. Because the prize money is bananas. And because the PGA Tour wants it to be a big damn deal. And hell, they’re doing a pretty good job of making it one.
But the *best* major? Come on. Let’s be real. What makes a major a major? It’s history. It’s tradition. It’s that feeling you get when you watch a guy hoist that trophy, knowing he’s joining a list of legends who did the same thing decades ago. Think about the Masters. The green jacket. Augusta National. It’s practically sacred. The U.S. Open. That brutal test of golf, where only the toughest survive. The Open Championship. Links golf, the wind, the history stretching back forever. And the PGA Championship, yeah, it’s had its ups and downs, but it’s still a major. It’s got history. It’s got iconic winners. It’s got those moments.
The Players? It’s… new. Relatively. First played in 1974. It’s got a great course now, TPC Sawgrass. That 17th island green? It’s iconic, sure. It’s a hell of a hole. It’s the kind of hole that can make or break a tournament. It’s dramatic. It’s stressful. But is one hole enough to elevate it above the centuries of history that come with the other four?
And let’s talk about the narrative. When you’re a kid, dreaming of golf greatness, what are you saying? Are you saying, “Man, I hope I win the Players Championship one day”? Or are you saying, “I want to win the Masters”? Or the U.S. Open? Or the British Open? Or even the PGA? I’d bet my last dollar it’s the latter. Kids aren’t growing up idolizing the Players Championship. They’re idolizing the legends who won the majors. The guys whose names are etched into golf history for centuries.
The PGA Tour is doing everything it can to make the Players feel like a major. They’re throwing money at it. They’re marketing it like crazy. They’ve got these slick promotional videos that scream “MAJOR!” But is it working? For some players, maybe. Michael Kim, bless his heart, said he’d be prouder winning the Players over the PGA. And hey, if that’s how he feels, good for him. The money’s certainly there. Rory McIlroy took home a million bucks more for winning the Players last year than Scottie Scheffler did for winning the PGA. That’s a big chunk of change. You can’t ignore that.
But then you look at Scottie Scheffler. The guy’s a machine. He’s chasing history. Do you think he’d trade his PGA Championship for a Players Championship? Not a chance in hell. He’s after the legacy. He’s after the big moments. He’s after joining Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods, Walter Hagen. He’s not looking at the Players as the ultimate prize. He’s looking at the majors. The real majors.
It’s like this: the PGA Tour wants the Players to be a major so badly, they’re practically forcing it down our throats. They’ve got the big checks, the top players, the catchy slogans. But they can’t manufacture history. They can’t manufacture that deep, gut-level feeling of significance that comes with a century of tradition. That’s not something you can just buy or market into existence.
When people start talking about redefining what a major is, that’s a slippery slope. If the Players is now a major, then what’s next? The FedEx Cup? The WGCs? Where does it end? Golf already has its four majors. They’re established. They’re revered. They mean something. Trying to shoehorn another event into that elite club just devalues what those four have always represented.
And look, I’m not saying the Players isn’t a fantastic tournament. It is. The Stadium Course at TPC Sawgrass is a beast. It’s a challenge. It tests every part of your game. The pressure is immense, especially on those back nine holes. You see guys crumble. You see guys make magic. It’s compelling television. But it’s not a major. Not yet. Maybe never.
Think about it this way. If you had to pick one tournament to win over your entire career, which one would it be? The Masters? The U.S. Open? The Open Championship? The PGA Championship? Or the Players? For 99.9% of professional golfers, the answer is obvious. They want to win one of the big four. They want their name alongside the greats of the game. They want that piece of history.
There’s also the whole “company man” thing. Brandel Chamblee covers the Players Championship extensively for Golf Channel. The PGA Tour has a massive broadcast deal with Golf Channel. It’s natural, maybe, that he’d want to pump it up. It’s human nature. But that doesn’t make it a major. It just means he’s doing his job, and maybe getting a little caught up in the Tour’s narrative. It’s easy to get swept up when the marketing is that strong.
The argument that players are chasing history is a strong one. Look at Jack Nicklaus. He won 18 majors. But if you started cutting the PGA Championship from his record because the fields weren’t as deep back then, his total drops to 13. Same for Tiger Woods, going from 15 to 11. Tom Watson stays at eight because he never won the PGA. If you start messing with the historical definition of majors, you’re opening a Pandora’s Box that nobody wants to deal with.
And what about the courses? The majors have iconic, storied venues. Pebble Beach, Oakmont, St. Andrews, Baltusrol. These are places steeped in golf lore. TPC Sawgrass is a great course, but it doesn’t have that same weight of history. It’s a modern masterpiece, but it’s not Augusta. It’s not Pebble. It’s not the Old Course.
If the PGA Championship wants to really stand out, to solidify its place as an undeniable major, maybe it needs a shake-up. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Make Pebble Beach its annual home. Imagine a 54-hole qualifier at Pebble, followed by a 16-player, two-day match play event at Cypress Point. Now *that* would be something. That would create drama. That would create history. That would make the PGA Championship something truly unique and undeniably major.
But as it stands, the PGA Tour is trying to sell us something that just isn’t there. The Players Championship is a fantastic event. It’s got the money, it’s got the players, it’s got the drama. But it doesn’t have the history. It doesn’t have the tradition. It doesn’t have that deep, almost spiritual connection that the other four majors have cultivated over decades, sometimes centuries. It’s a great tournament. It’s a huge event. But let’s call it what it is: the PGA Tour’s flagship event. Not a major. Not yet, anyway.
So, next time you hear someone claiming the Players is the best major, just ask them: Have you ever, sir, met a kid on a late summer day on a practice putting green, aim-pointing over a five-footer and saying, “This is for the Players!”? Didn’t think so. The chase for history is real, and it’s still happening on the fairways of the Masters, the U.S. Open, the Open Championship, and the PGA Championship. That’s where the true legends are made.
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