A practical and honest man, Brandt Snedeker was telling a story the other day about the Monday after he won the 2012 FedEx Cup.
Normally, he said, tournament winnings show up in his bank account by 9 on the morning after a tournament’s fourth round. Understandably anxious to check his account after claiming the $10 million bonus, he logged on at 9:05. No money. This vexed him greatly. So much that he put in a call to PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem.
“Tim was gracious enough to take my phone call. He told me: Don’t worry. It will be there. Just relax,” Snedeker recalled. And sure enough, the Tour was good for the money. Two hours later, his account was as overstuffed as a $20 New York deli sandwich.
“You never think it’s going to happen and when it does you don’t quite quantify it. . .It was one of those weird deals – I need to get my head around this and get some planning going forward to make sure I’m not a sob story 30 years down the road of how he lost all this,” Snedeker said.
What made Snedeker’s recollection all the more precious was the fact that here was a PGA Tour player actually admitting that, yeah, the money does matter. That, of course, anyone would be gobsmacked by the prospect of waking up one morning $10 million richer.
For some of the week leading up to this 30-player clambake, we were treated to a litany of comments about how the title is so much more important than the cash. It’s the kind of sentiment we expect from the modern athlete. Something of a cliche, really.
“More so than money, I’d much rather have my name on the trophy. That’s just me personally because how much is enough? We all have money but I don’t have my name on the FedEx Cup trophy, and that’s what I really want.” – Jason Day.
“The last thing probably on my mind is that there’s $10 million at stake because, really, I’m playing golf tournaments to win hardware. There are two really good trophies I could win this week, and hopefully I can go out and have a chance late Sunday to do it.” – Patrick Reed.
Just once, I’d love to hear a player say, “Heck, yeah, it’s about the money. You realize what I can do with $10 million? That’s a lifetime supply of gold-plated tees and sable head covers.
“You take the trophy. I can get one made up twice that size. Bigger than that even. So big I can take a bath in it. Every kid who ever played T-ball has a trophy. What every kid doesn’t have is $10 million.”
I’m sorry if this makes me sound crass and capitalistic. I’d rather like to think it makes me sound normal.
Good heavens, if a guy here hits the daily double of winning both the Tour Championship and the FedEx Cup, that’s $11.53 million. Do you realize how many blogs I have to write to make that? (I believe the number, coincidentally, is roughly 11.53 million).
Golfers make way too much money if the $10 million FedEx Cup bonus really means less than a trophy. And I will fully believe their contention the day one of them hoists the lovely cup on the 18th green and declares, “I’m good. I got what I came for. You keep your filthy loot.”