Martin Davidson: Golf's good name muddied by display of dirty laundry

COMMENT

Any number of New Zealand golf officials really should give themselves a solid clip around the ears.

Their penchant for taking their eyes off the ball resulted in the game's dirtiest laundry being aired in public.

The brouhaha surrounding the resignation of Golf Association (NZGA) chief executive Peter Dale, national director of coaching Mal Tongue and his five assistants was played out, in an almost unbelievable manner, in a public forum.

But simmering away for the past two years have been issues relating to staff morale that inevitably leaked their way to the provinces.

Tongue took offence at Dale's man- management style and feared that the virtues of a game he loves - after all, it does provide him a comfortable living - were being trodden on.

He looked around and saw people he liked feeling intimidated and disempowered.

The NZGA's first floor office in Dixon St, Wellington, is staffed by a fine bunch of men and women who, thankfully, were not dragged into the mess once Tongue had delivered his resignation and his five assistants had followed suit on March 10.

After consulting friends and trusted confidantes, Tongue decided not to hold his tongue, and that he was not about to surrender his soul.

Tongue was not a paid employee. His expertise - used by the NZGA since 1994 - was to coach, groom and mentor amateur players as they emerged through the ranks.

He knew his decision to open his heart to the media could turn nasty but the fallout was managed in such a way that he can still look at himself in the mirror.

After 18 months of having his authority undermined in a variety of ways, Tongue fought back by talking to the media.

He was deeply hurt, as he could see that the goodness of a game he earns his living from was under threat - from within.

He didn't want to resign and neither did his five loyal assistants - Bob McDonald of Auckland, Shane Scott of Christchurch, Brian Boys of Hamilton, Murray Macklin of Wellington, and Simon Thomas of Dunedin.

The coaching sextet decided if they did not resign it was only a matter of time before Dale had his way and Tongue's contract would not be renewed in October.

Considering the passion Tongue and his assistants had for their roles, that took a strong constitution.

They, too, were casualties in this mess. But, like Tongue, their main income is derived from club jobs outside of the NZGA and they will go on servicing their players and customers.

Unlike Tongue they do not have the sort of high profile that sees him in regular demand for corporate golf days.

For the time being, at least, they won't be directly involved with the NZGA's Titleist Academy squad and junior coaching clinics.

Their show of unbending unity no doubt surprised Dale, who quickly fell on his sword, telling board chairman John Patterson on the night of March 12 that he, too, was resigning.

Tongue has been an often controversial character, a bubbly, gregarious man with an unquenchable thirst for perfection. He can also polarise opinion.

Where some see a committed, trusting, outgoing, charming man, others see a one-dimensional, tunnel-visioned character whose "my way or the highway" view on coaching is not accepted by everyone.

But he has mellowed down the years and now, at 46, is a much softer version of the calculating showman of 10 years ago when he guided this country's best player of modern times, Michael Campbell, from amateur to professional status.

The NZGA board and councillors must accept a large share of responsibility for the game's image being dragged through the gutter.

It's no good for board members, and others, to now excuse themselves on the basis that they were unaware of the issues.

Granted, they are not in paid positions, but they should have cared enough about the game to make sure they were fully aware of what was going on.

It was, after all, the NZGA board who appointed Dale in August 2001.

His appointment was curious.

It came about after Phil Aickin, who became chief executive following the death of Grant Clements, decided a change was needed.

He convinced the board he was of best use to it by reverting to his former role as operations manager, where he could commit his time to tournament and course management issues.

The new chief executive could get to work on the commercial and financial side of the game.

There's no question Dale could talk a good game, and in the context of his appointment it's not even crucial that he could play golf only to the modest level befitting a social player.

Board members spied a chance to fill the game's coffers, reasoning Dale's many years running the former Hillary Commission, the one-time Government sports funding agency, gave him an unrivalled insight into how to open the wallets of potential corporate supporters.

But more than 2 1/2 years after his appointment, the NZGA is ever-more reliant on the Government, via Sport and Recreation New Zealand, the agency that replaced the Hillary Commission and Sports Foundation.

As well, it was during Dale's watch that two of the sport's long-time sponsors, AMP and Tower, jumped ship.

In his previous position, Dale spent years dispensing money to acquiescing sporting organisations desperate for cash in a country where the overlords of rugby, cricket, netball and, for a time, yachting absorb the vast majority of the corporate sponsorship available.

He may have had the schmoozing game down pat, but Dale was not fully prepared for a job which required an entirely different set of skills.

What Dale did not seem to grasp were the game's fundamentals, which golf writers have romanticised down the years and which are still very much at the heart of the sport.

Those inside golf like to consider the sport special.

It is not. It simply has points of difference to other codes.

In golf - on and, apparently, off the course - courtesy and respect are the pillars of the game.

They are all qualities golf prides itself on and which were at the very heart of the NZGA when the incomparable Clements ran the ship for many years before his death in 1999.

It may sound crude, but it's not impossible to imagine Clements turning in his grave at the happenings of the past two years.

- NZPA