The debate between what is useful and what is useless is as old as history itself. The sadly departed Nuccio Ordine, in a highly recommended book, spoke to us about the utility of the useless, a curious oxymoron, referring to the usefulness of knowledge whose fundamental value is unrelated to utilitarian purposes. That is, the value of knowledge that is an end in itself and is detached from practical or commercial ties, which are essential for cultivating the spirit and enabling humanity to develop. Everything that makes us better is useful, not just what yields profits.
The right to culture or sport cannot depend on market hegemony or economic circumstances. As Ordine notes, the playwright Eugene Ionesco said that if one does not understand the utility of the useless and the uselessness of the useful, one does not understand art. The utility of useless knowledge contrasts with the current mercantilist reality, and many people find it increasingly difficult to understand what music, literature, or art can be used for, which are by no means superfluous luxuries (although they are also commercialised and have powerful industries behind them in some cases). Hölderlin stated that what endures is founded by poets, while Ionesco reinforced his argument by indicating that the need to create, to imagine, is as fundamental as breathing.
You might think that I am driven by empty idealism and go too far in elevating sport and placing it on the same pedestal as music, literature, or art, which is more an antagonist than a sibling, that their interests are opposed and that its popularisation, in many cases, has been to the detriment of those other “useless knowledges,” but I truly believe in its complementary capacity and in the purity that underlies all sporting and athletic activity.
In doing so, the reader might categorise me in some strange form of messianism or consider me detached from reality, but I am clear that we do not live in a fantasy world and cannot turn our backs on the socio-economic reality that surrounds us. However, I do believe that by excessively prioritising professionalisation and profit-making, aspects firmly rooted in the nature of many of the sporting activities that satisfy us so much today, the soul of these sports deteriorates, even though the popularisation that comes with their economic expansion might suggest otherwise.
In golf, this economic expansion could be a clear indicator of its good health, but in recent years it has gone hand in hand with an artificial struggle between the main established circuits and a new player that has entered the global scene. The business potential of LIV, backed by the PIF, the Saudi sovereign wealth fund, is undeniable, but its cash-fuelled entry has disrupted the global golf ecosystem, provoking an escalation of sporting and economic hostilities (reflected in the contractual conditions of the main LIV players and the enhanced prize pools that, in response, the PGA Tour currently offers).
Some players have been able to take advantage of this struggle by securing “generational wealth,” the term used to describe those amounts that will reach several generations of their descendants, and there are those who point to the earnings of players in various team sports (football and the major US professional leagues) as a benchmark to justify their increasing incomes. No one can call a salary unfair if someone is willing to pay it, of course… but on the sidelines, there are a good number of companies seeing how their contributions have had to multiply without the impact of their sponsorships on society growing proportionally. We live in a time of reduced audiences and dwindling television interest, precisely the opposite of what should have happened with the emergence of LIV on the global golf scene. LIV tournaments have very limited television reach, and their on-site impact is only noticeable in countries like Australia and Spain, which, due to the appeal of the concept and its uniqueness, welcome their main stars.
But I sense weariness among the average fan, at least in the opinions I have been able to gauge in our country. Money monopolises conversations, and competition takes a back (and distant) seat, with the four major islands as the only magnets capable of capturing the attention of all fans. The fragmentation of the offering and the lack of reference points are wearing, and both the slowness and the lack of definition in the negotiations that are supposedly meant to lead to the reunification of the golf world do not help either.
In 1976, “El desencanto,” a feature-length documentary directed by Jaime Chavarri, premiered, whose eloquent title I have borrowed for this column and which served at the time to discuss the democratic transition. This film delves into the life of the family of the poet Leopoldo Panero and draws a striking parallel between their relationships, based on pretence, hypocrisy, and imposture, and the decay of the regime. In that distant 1976, a young man from Pedreña presented his credentials in the golf world by finishing second in the Open Championship held at Royal Birkdale, tying with the legend Jack Nicklaus and only behind the champion, Johnny Miller. There, Seve Ballesteros began to forge his legacy. Hopefully, this 2025 that is so close will serve as a starting point for another historical legacy, and we can leave behind the current disenchantment.
