Looks like while the good ship LIV was taking on water faster than a leaky beer cooler at a bachelor party, the folks in the captain's quarters were busy rearranging the deck chairs – and stuffing their pockets. In the tense period between Saudi Arabia pulling the plug on its endless cash spigot and LIV deciding to file for Chapter 11 faster than you can say "bogey," a cool $15.6 million magically appeared in the accounts of seven top brass. You could almost call it a "retention bonus." Retaining what, though? Their ability to look themselves in the mirror, maybe? That’s a debate that’ll probably outlast the tour itself.
Leading this magnificent exodus of cash was CEO Scott O'Neil, who, with the foresight of a lemming heading for a cliff, managed to snag $6.375 million. I picture these payments being calculated with the same precision one uses to count sand grains on a beach – utterly pointless by the time the tide comes in. It’s the oldest story in the book, isn't it? Pay people a fortune to do stuff, right up until the stuff they’re doing becomes about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.
The bankruptcy filings are a goldmine of financial absurdity. They detail payments to creditors made just before the whole thing imploded. Aside from those executive "retention" schemes, a hefty $26 million was apparently earmarked for Jon Rahm in the year before LIV hit the skids. You have to wonder about the existential dread of getting paid handsomely for something that was destined to evaporate like a bad golf shot.
Even Greg Norman, the tour's self-proclaimed visionary and chief cheerleader, didn't exactly get the short end of the stick. His exit in early 2025 came with a $5.8 million handshake and a $3.6 million bonus. It’s like the captain of the Titanic gifting himself a first-class suite on the lifeboat while the band plays on. A truly touching scene, that.
Remember when the PIF fund was supposedly going to rewrite the golf rulebook with its billions, aiming to shake things up with enough cash to buy a small country? Well, that dream seems to have sailed off into the sunset. Now, under the shiny new banner of 'LIV 2.0' and a fresh $300 million from BC Partners Credit, the focus is on keeping the players. But with stars like Rahm, Garcia, and Oosthuizen reportedly eyeing the exits, this "new" LIV looks about as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane.
Amidst all this financial chaos, we also see the little guys, like Mobbi Systems Group and Fresh Tape Media, still waiting for their checks for broadcast bits and preview days. Their situation is a harsh reminder: while the execs are busy packing their golden parachutes, the folks who actually did the work are often left treading water, hoping someone remembers they exist. O'Neil’s promise of "doing everything we can" sounds a lot like a politician's pledge when the treasury is already bare.