Oil Filter Professional Golfers, Beware

Nearly every day, we are greeted with ominous warnings that artificial intelligence is coming for our jobs.

I’m not just talking about writers or customer service representatives, although they are typically high on the list of targets. I’m talking about every aspect of modern life. The people who are heavily invested in AI – to the point where they are now holding the global economy hostage – need to constantly hype the possibilities, lest the entire bubble collapse. There is a real chance we may learn, one day, that the emperor has no clothes, and we’ll end up dealing with the fallout and backlash for decades. The people who are wrecking communities by attempting to buy up golf courses so they can build soulless data centers will likely never have to answer for it, but it is my wish that they never know a moment of peace.

But there is also a very real chance this is wishful thinking and naivete on my part, that scoffing at the promise of AI is like arguing we should continue using candles instead of electricity to light our homes. I promise you that as long as I can draw a breath, the writing in this newsletter will be written by human beings, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be a flood of golf media that is fully automated. You can decide what level of authenticity you want in the art you seek out.

The parallels are not perfect, but when I see the debate raging about AI eliminating nonessential jobs, my thoughts often turn to new PGA Tour CEO Brian Rolapp.

{{related-articles}}

Rolapp is not interested in catering to sentiment as he reshapes the PGA Tour. He is interested in optimization, in maximizing shareholder value. Golfweek’s Eamon Lynch detailed some of Rolapp’s approach in his column this week, and as someone who spent 15 years covering the NFL, I will offer an even harsher warning to the PGA Tour’s mule class.

The new boss in town views you as extremely replaceable.

I don’t say this with any amount of glee. In fact, a lot of it makes me sad because there are great stories to tell and great characters who exist on the margins of professional golf. Occasionally they claw their way into the privileged class and stay there. Jacob Bridgeman might be the latest example. A year ago, he barely kept his card. Last week, he won the Genesis Invitational and he now leads the FedEx Cup standings. It can be done.

But the climb is about to get harder.

Rolapp comes from a world — the NFL — where the average length of a career is 3.2 years. The instant a player is deemed expendable, he can be replaced and usually is. It does not matter what he has accomplished in the past. There are no soft landings in the NFL, no injury exemptions or roster spots awarded as long as you cross a threshold for career starts. The NFL, particularly over the last 20 years, has embraced a caste system. Quarterbacks are part of a protected class. There are different rules to protect them, and different salaries to reward them. Defensive ends and left tackles occupy the next tier, and wide receivers and tight ends can briefly become royalty if they string together a couple of great seasons. But the rest of the players are usually treated like they are as replaceable as the tires on your car. A right guard or a fullback can get discarded faster than an oil filter.

There is an entire generation of professional golfers who are about to be treated like oil filters.

{{inline-article}}

I feel for them, because they grew up with different rules and expectations. The PGA Tour used to be run like a family business. It used to be that you didn’t peak as a professional golfer until you were 30, and as long as you played well enough to keep your card, you could make a nice living throughout your 30s and 40s. Things might get a little dicey right before you turn 50, but as soon as you do, the Champions Tour awaits. It was an easy transition to a soft retirement.

Imagine being an NFL running back — the majority of whom are out of football by age 30 — and listening to these recent quotes Ryan Moore gave to Golfweek’s Adam Schupak.

“I feel like the first 10 years I was on Tour they appreciated people in my position who had been there, done that,” Moore said. “They did everything to kind of create some playing opportunity for past champions; they appreciated that player a lot more.

“Now they’re like, ‘What have you done for me lately? Please go away. Go away as fast as you can. You mean nothing to us.’ Like, that’s how I feel. My issue with everything they’ve done is they just throw everything out there, claim there’s a trickle down, but it doesn’t trickle down past 20 players. Everything the Tour is doing is working against you and you feel like you’re beating your head against the wall.”

It’s not fair to pick on Moore, who is guilty of little else besides being 43 years old at a time when private equity has arrived to fend off LIV Golf and reimagine the PGA Tour. If you want to survive as you get older, you have to reinvent yourself and work harder. Adam Scott has done it. Although he fell to 112th in the FedEx Cup last year, he was in contention in the U.S. Open in 2025, and finished fourth last week at the Genesis Invitational. Even at age 45, Data Golf now has him as the 33rd-best player in the world.

The pathways are still there, and Bridgeman and Scott are proof, just at the opposite ends of their careers. It’s just that the journey is getting more cutthroat.

It’s not that different from the artificial intelligence conversation. You can argue that the changes will make those who survive even better. I look at Scott and I see a beacon. I want to write sentences in my 40s that are as elegant as his golf swing.

You just can’t linger too long on the human cost of those who get left behind.