Gentlemen,
It is a fruitless task to compete with the NFL as they rule the universe. Personally, I have lost my taste for the entire vulgar mess of professional sports and have come to agree more and more with C.B. Macdonald, who warned of the profanity of money ruining the purity of amateur sport.
However, the quickest and most entertaining alternative to this obtuse FedEx nonsense is to simply arrange a series of challenge matches like "Shell's Wonderful World of Golf" . . . . . . with a twist.
This might have to be on pay-per-view of course, but how about a grudge match between Phil and Tiger? . . . . . . except Phil plays right-handed, Tiger plays left and their wives caddy nude.
That ought to draw at last a 6.2 market share if you tape delay the match and put it against a Browns v. Lions game in late November when both teams are 3-10.
Besides that, the entire FedEx idea is as phony as Carol Doda's tits (or Tim Finchem's suntan) and as interesting as the movie "My Dinner With Andre."
Who cares if Tiger, Phil, Vijay or Furyk win an extra couple million? Money is meaningless at that level; anyone ever look at the estimates at how much those guys make a year already?
Defer it, don't defer it, give it away to the Little Sisters of the Poor or a Home for Unwed Parakeets . . . . . all it comes to is another tax liability for those guys and pain in the ass.
There are only four tournaments that REALLY matter, another four that carry some second tier prestige and the rest of the tour is little more noise on the TV in the Men's Grillroom while everybody pounds beers.
In all seriousness, the Tour needs to travel to more places like Colonial or Riviera. This "pure aerial" game is a yawn. The reason nobody cares about tennis anymore (remember the craze in the mid-70's and early 80's?) is there is no artistry and finesse. The game has been reduced to two guys hammering it as hard as they can at each other until one makes a mistake.
We don't need to make the courses longer, but shorter and more treacherous. Wild putting surfaces, penal bunkers . . . . . swashbuckling bravado. If these tournaments were like the Masters in the sense that there was drama all the way down the stretch, people would watch if they were playing for nickels.
Put some "do-or-die" choices in these events - which is why you watch TPC Sawgrass - and you won't need naked blondes to sell the product.