The ‘Off-Season’ Omen: Has LIV Finally Found the Rough?
In the world of professional golf, the "Off-Season" used to be a period of quiet reflection, equipment testing, and perhaps a casual tropical holiday. But in the era of the Great Golf Schism, it has become a frantic game of high-stakes musical chairs.
As we look toward the 2026 season, the narrative has shifted. For the last two years, LIV Golf was the predatory shark in the water. Today? It looks a bit more like a shark that accidentally swam into a very expensive, very confusing rebranding meeting and forgot how to bite.
Unless they pull a monumental signing out of the bag before the first tee time, LIV has effectively taken a massive backward step.
The Identity Crisis: From Iron Heads to… Tigers?
LIV’s latest attempt to "grow the game" involves a flurry of name changes that feel less like sports franchises and more like a rejected list of 90s Saturday morning cartoons.
The Iron Heads GC, a team that spent most of its existence proving that iron is indeed heavy and sinks to the bottom, is now the Korean Tigers. Their new logo features a White Tiger, a symbol of "strength and tenacity," which is a bold choice for a team that just lost their “biggest name”, Kevin Na, because of their new approach. Or, maybe just because he took too long mulling over the rebrand like he does his shots.
Then we have the Southern Guards GC (formerly the Stingers). Inspired by the philosophy of Ubuntu (“I am because we are”), the team has replaced its wasp logo with a rhino. It’s culturally resonant, perhaps, but "Southern Guards" sounds more like a security firm you’d hire to protect a pub or an endangered rhino, rather than a world-class sports team.
Oh yeah and less globetrotty, there was also a rebrand for Majesticks GC so they inevitably went for bulldogs, Union Jacks and London buses. Short of sticking a Reform party logo on their chest it couldn’t be any more on-the-nose current day Blighty.
The Ones That Got Away
The true measure of an off-season these days is the talent you lure across the fence. LIV’s hit rate this winter has been, to put it politely, "sub-optimal." While they managed to keep hold of Jon Rahm and Bryson DeChambeau after the most recent swearing of fealty to current employers, the list of failed overtures is growing longer than a Phil Mickelson tweet.
Reports suggest LIV went hard after the likes of Si Woo Kim, Akshay Bhatia, and Max Greyserman. These are the "mid-tier" engines of the PGA Tour—the players who provide the competitive depth LIV desperately lacks. One by one, they looked at the piles of cash, looked at the prospect of playing 72 holes (the "traditional" LIV once mocked), and said, "No thanks, I’d rather keep my world ranking points."
The Rolapp Revolution
While LIV’s leadership seems preoccupied with animal logos and 72-hole "innovations", the PGA Tour has found its "wartime CEO" in Brian Rolapp.
Coming from the NFL, Rolapp doesn't care about "tradition" for tradition's sake, he cares about market share and leverage. In just a few months, he has done what his predecessor could not: he went on the offensive.
By launching the Returning Member Programme, Rolapp effectively opened the escape hatch. He didn't just wait for the phone to ring; he created a pathway for players to come home. By treating the Tour like the multi-billion pound media property it is, he has made a far more effective mark on the landscape than the new LIV CEO, whose strategy currently seems to involve more focus on merch than momentum.
Would Rahm, DeChambeau and Cam Smith to a lesser extent have improved the events they were in? Sure. But watching them try and put on their convincing tone while LIV’s social media copy and pasted their “These guys are having fun!” captions, again was strangely fun to watch. Again.
The Backward Step
According to the streets Marco Penge is the latest one to reject the riyals so a big name addition seems highly unlikely. Unless LIV pulls a rabbit out of a hat before the season starts, they are entering 2026 in a deficit. Viewership is flat, the "54" branding is now mathematically incorrect due to the 72-hole switch, and the momentum has swung back to the so-called "Old Guard" in Ponte Vedra.
LIV was supposed to be the future. But between the bizarre rebrands and a PGA Tour CEO who actually understands leverage, the breakaway league is starting to look like a very expensive experiment that is running out of new tricks.
The verdict? Log the feeling, forget the score—because right now, LIV is playing from the thickest rough they've seen yet. 🟡🏌️♂️