When Ian Poulter, with his eyes burning, put his index finger on the chest of then-USGA CEO Mike Davis in the driving field at the 2019 US Open in Pebble Beach, Jason Goure thought his brief USGA career might be over. Appointed just three months ago to be the league’s first player relations manager, Gore convinced Davis to dance among the wolves on the Monterey Peninsula. The couple came across one of those howling the loudest.
“I said to myself, ‘Okay, I don’t have to unpack my things anymore,'” Gore remembers recently, laughing. “”I’ll see you later.”
But what followed is exactly why Gore was appointed. Davis and Poulter ended up having a thoughtful, thoughtful, and thoughtful conversation. Later Gore summons the Englishman to the trailer which serves as his temporary office. Poulter wasn’t sure if Gore would shake his hand or throw a big punch. “I looked at him and said, ‘Bolts, are you feeling better?'” Gore says yes. And I said, “Play well this week.”
“Suddenly, the guard fell. You just have to realize that we are not out to spoil everyone’s day. We love the game.”
Sometimes the most obvious solutions stand right before your eyes. The USGA has been around for more than 120 years, ruling the game and organizing national tournaments. But it has done so in an uncomfortable position when it comes to the professionals working at the highest levels, because while its rules and equipment decisions affect all golfers, it has few relationships or ties with those who play for their financial livelihood. It organizes four professional events a year – the US Open and the US Women’s Open – and if anything goes sideways in those tournaments, say a course-setting game, the USA gets roasted for being an “amateur group” that affects who takes home one The most desirable prizes in the game.
Any gaffe, particularly in the age of Twitter, has left the USGA looking clueless or worse yet intentionally evil, despite its intent to identify a worthy national champion while shining a bright light on what makes the game equally beautiful and confusing.
If you don’t think harsh ratings really hurt those who go to work every day in Liberty Corner, NJ, you would be wrong.
John Bodenhamer, who started at the USGA in 2011 before taking over as the first managing director of tournaments in 2019 (and succeeded Davis in overseeing preparation for the US Open), had been contemplating that breakup for some time. When another high-profile dusting took place at the 2018 US Open in Shinnecock Hills, players tore up baked-in conditions on Saturday and Phil Mickelson was so angry at the hole position on Day 13 that he – to everyone’s shock – slid the ball onto his ball as it rolled.
Twitter Poulter: “Did Bozo set up the course?”
Late in the evening, Davis tweeted: “It’s getting really tough today in some areas. If we get a Mulligan, we’ll have slowed the Greens this afternoon.”
Poulter replied, “You don’t get a Mulligan [sic] In business at this level. How can this team continue to do this without consequences.”
As Gore Jaffa now says, “Social media always wins.”
This was the last push Bodenhamer needed to move to address the USGA’s lack of a real line of communication with the players. His determination was only reinforced by a conversation he had that winter with former US Open champion Jim Furyk, who told Bodenhammer, “The biggest problem in USA FC is that guys think you don’t care what we think.”
“This could not be further from the truth,” Bodenhammer says. “But we got it. We needed someone who could immediately walk into the green training area and have this dialogue.”
Enter gore. There may have been other candidates for the job, but Bodenhammer has admired Al as a person and player since winning the 1997 Pacific Coast Amateur Championships when Bodenhammer was CEO of Pacific Northwest GA. Gore possessed all the qualities the USGA was looking for in terms of the professional respect he had earned over the course of nearly 25 years (when he claimed to have scored seven wins on the Korn Ferry Tour and one on the PGA Tour). It didn’t hurt that Gore rose to prominence at the 2005 US Open in Pinehurst, where he became The The story by reaching the final set on Sunday, only to collapse by 84.
But anyone who has spent more than two minutes with Gore understands intangibles, too. He’s a man with a barrel-chested boisterous laugh, a quick smile, and a deathly dry wit who could…well, put Davis and Poulter in a little loop and walk away without his hands getting bloody.
He’s just a warm and honest person. I’ve never met anyone who hates him. He’s a good family man. He’s grounded in strong values. He just puts a human face on them. He only cares about you, whatever your level.”
When Gore, 48, first got the call in early 2019 from USAFF member Jeff Hall, with whom he had an affair when Gore played in the 1997 Walker Cup, the golfer thought he was being asked to recommend others to perform player relationships. . Then it turned out that it was the target. At the time, Gore was selling insurance – “sounds like what all great people do” – and dealing with terrible back pain, while still at the top of golf after competition until Sunday over sponsor’s exemption, last November’s RSM Classic .
Gore thought about what this life-changing move would mean for his two children and his wife Megan, a high school sweetheart, who gave him four words that meant it all: “That’s it.”
“It’s funny how these things go,” Gore says. “I guess, deep down, I’m glad I didn’t win the RSM. When I came [to the USGA], I told them that since I touched the putters, I wanted to make a difference in the game. At my funeral – I know this sounds bad – I want people to stand up and say this guy left the game better than he did when he got here. I had 15 seconds to do this with my putters. Who knew I had this opportunity as an administrator with the USGA? “
“Official” is an uninspiring title for a man who serves roles such as educated sage, team leader, cheerleader, moderator, and healer. Heading into his fourth US Open next week at The Country Club, Gore walked the perilous line between presenting the values and views of the USGA, while convincing his former competitive brethren that he’s there for them and not completely swallowing Kool-help.
Gore explains, “There are a lot of people who didn’t know anyone in the USGA. I knew Jeff [Hall] And if I have questions, I’ll call him. He was human to me. But for a lot of people, they’re afraid of the USGA. There was no human element in it. And sometimes it’s okay to say you were wrong. There are mistakes the USGA has made, but it’s not spite or because we don’t like you. We are looking for the best for the game, with the best intentions. There is a way to what we do.
“A lot of people don’t see that. It’s, ‘Oh, here they are again.’ You have this preconceived notion about what you think we’re doing. There was no communication and there were very few relationships. I’m not here to change the way they think or feel, But I want them to know the truth. We care what you think and feel.”
He compares the job to being a league referee: “They don’t have to love us, but they have to respect us.”
Gore sometimes gets criticized for his job, but he’s won more than his share of pessimists. “Yeah, believe me, I screw his balls about this all the time,” PGA Tour pioneer William McGuert says of his friend’s post.
No matter the jokes, says McGirt, “I think the most important thing is that we know they’re listening now. I’ve talked to [Gore] Four or five times about certain things, and I understand “Hey, I know where you’re coming from. I agree with you. You should give me some time. I’m working on things.”
In real terms, Gore’s effect was felt almost immediately. At Pebble Beach in 2019, he became part of the four-man team that worked to set up the course—the main person being Bodenhamer, along with Hall and Darin Bevard, the USGA’s farm tournament director. They had their first disagreement over putting the pin into the 14th hole of the par-5 which the slick green has always thrown players into spells. Bodenhammer was considering a pin insert that if the shot missed by the slightest of margins, or was rotated too much, the ball might roll 40 yards back and out of the green.
“I wanted to listen and learn, but I had to say something,” Gore says. “I’ve played Pebble Beach 200 times.” His fears eventually prevailed.
“Creating a golf course that’s really brutal is easy,” says Gore. “We could have a 260 yard 3 and put the pin on the left, three degrees behind a vault. But you left me no thought process. I’ll short it out right. Instead, try me to do something superfluous. At what point will Superman’s robe come out and I think it’s I can get that far. If you do, great shot. If you don’t, you’re busy.”
Bodenhamer said of Gore’s contributions on the setting side: “It was huge. He has a sixth sense. He’s good at it and he has an eye for a player.”
Brandt Snedecker, a nine-round winner, believes Gore was a great broker between the U.S. FA and the players.
“I felt like our opinion didn’t matter. It was like, ‘This is how we’re going to do it, and you guys show up and be glad you play,’” Snedeker says. “We’re like, ‘You guys make $100 million this week. Happening? That’s not true.’ So I think Jason has been a great moderator in that aspect to help them understand what’s going on.”
The USGA appears to be taking this path seriously. Gore heads a team of six others – “my Sherpas through this” – including Liz Fradkin, who equals him on the women’s side, and Robbie Zalznick, a 23-year USA FA manager who oversees four people working in player relations in a combined 15 USGA Championship.
The goal, Bodenhamer says, is to create a “player’s journey” through various levels of competition, from Junior Ams to US Opens, while establishing early links between competitors and the USGA. He cited Zalzneck’s long-standing relationship with the DeChambeau family in his ability to quickly orchestrate a good television moment via video in the wake of Bryson’s COVID-disabled US Open win at Winged Foot in 2020.
“It all started when Bryson played in the US for American juniors and amateurs,” Bodenhammer said. This is the strategy. We build those relationships, and they can come to us, and they can help us. We are only at the beginning of it. “
For an organization that seems so old, a lot seems new. Gore believes the key is to push the USGA forward without leaving indelible marks.
“We have to hand the game to the next generation and remove fingerprints from it,” he says. “It is not about us; it is not about changing the game. We just want to make it better.”
– With reporting by Dave Shidlowsky