Bryson DeChambeau’s Split With Tim Tucker Shines Light on Evolving Player-Caddie Relationship

While increased tournament prize money (thanks Tiger Woods) has improved caddies’ pay, their role has changed due to new technologies and information. As a result, some players are questioning the need for a professional caddie.

NORTH BERWICK, Scotland — The reverberations of last week’s split between Bryson DeChambeau and caddie Tim Tucker at the Rocket Mortgage Classic have made it to Scotland, of all places, and is part of a broader discussion about caddying on the professional tours.

The discussion, which is all unattributable due to the sensitive nature of the discourse, is about caddies’ worth and their newfound ability to move away from relationships that may be other than amicable. There is also the idea that caddies may not deserve the same percentages as they have in the past due to the nature of the work and that they can be easily replaced by a player’s friend, college teammate or family member.

It’s a lot to digest.

Getting back to the DeChambeau-Tucker relationship, though. The official word supplied last week by Brett Falkoff, DeChambeau’s agent, was that the player and caddie had gone their separate ways for now — but it doesn’t mean forever.

Back in the day — that being before Tiger Woods’ presence infused professional golf with untold millions —players and caddies didn’t sit down much and discuss their issues. The player had all the leverage and the caddie had little to none, almost to the extent of a serf and noble relationship.

Most would describe the caddie-player relationship very similar to a marriage, where two close individuals can grow apart and either split or be miserable, leading to separation or divorce. Caddies usually stayed with an abusive or uncomfortable relationship because they had few, if any, options, since the player held all the cards and was usually the one that made the decision.

As one caddie put it, when a player sacks a caddie it’s no big deal, but when a caddie fires a player it becomes news.

Most caddies and players agree that the money in the current game has made it much easier for the aggrieved party to get out of the relationship since at least 100 players are considered well-paying bags. In the days before Woods, that number was substantially lower.

A caddie with more than 30 years on the bag spoke about the difficulties of the job and the impossibilities of making a living unless you were on a top bag. When he started there were only about 10 profitable bags in existence. In his early days, he often could not afford to fly and slept in horrible conditions — even once sleeping in a bush — to save what little money he had.

In his first caddying job, his player finished seventh and made 1,000 Euros, of which the caddie received 5 percent — 50 Euros. Since he couldn’t afford to fly, he had two days to get himself to the next event in Portugal.

Early on, his job consisted of shagging balls, creating his own yardage books and doing practically everything to get his player prepared to play. Today’s caddie does none of that. Some fly by private jet and stay on site, as some are this week at the Scottish Open, or in first-class hotels.

Some players are taking notice of the scaled back duties and the added benefits and wonder if the current compensation system is fair — not the to caddie, but to themselves.

Basically, are players getting what they are paying for?

It’s a fair question. Yardage and greens books answer most of the questions that would have been generated and calculated by the caddie in the past. As a result, some players view the caddie as nothing more than a bag toter and are fine with switching to someone who they are more compatible — like a friend or family member. Not only does it often save some money, but in some cases a player is looser and, thus, performs better.

Caddies, for their part, can feel the stress from a player to the point that they are so interested in keeping their job that they forget to do their job.

One caddie recalled that his relationship with a major winner deteriorated to the point that he would rather give him too much club and have a 30-foot putt than provide the proper yardage and have the ball end up in the front bunker because the shot wasn’t hit well.

In one case a caddie got his new job when the previous caddie could not sleep at night and woke up with a knot in his stomach because of having to caddie for an abusive player.

The caddie-player relationship is one of the more intricate dynamics in sports. When all is going well, the caddie is part of the team. When all isn’t going well, the caddie can often be the odd man out.

Money drives everything in professional golf and the caddie-player relationship is no different.

So, when you look at monumental player-caddie break ups — Woods and Steve Williams, Phil Mickelson and Jim ‘Bones’ Mackay, and now DeChambeau and Tucker, you are never really sure who pulled the trigger. But it’s also a trigger that likely would never had been pulled if the money in golf was not so immense.