The LIV Individual Title Race: A Tale of Brilliance, Potential, and Redemption
After thirty-five years covering professional golf—including more than a few awkward moments watching the tour landscape shift beneath our feet—I’ve learned to appreciate when the sport gives us a genuinely compelling story. The race for the 2026 LIV Golf Individual Championship is exactly that.
Jon Rahm enters as the defending champion with credentials that would make most of us shake our heads in disbelief. The Spanish captain of Legion XIII has posted finishes outside the top 11 exactly once in 25 completed starts on the circuit. That’s not just good golf; that’s machine-like consistency. Yet here’s what strikes me most about Rahm’s position: he’s won just twice and hasn’t claimed a major championship since the 2023 Masters. The talent is undeniable, but there’s a ceiling he hasn’t quite broken through on LIV, and frankly, it’s costing him in the conversations that matter most in professional golf.
What fascinates me is how differently Joaquin Niemann has attacked this same circuit. Unlike Rahm, Niemann has had no shortage of victories—five wins in 2025 alone, following two in 2024. Here’s a player who understands how to finish things, yet remains utterly baffled by major championships. Consider this stat from the source: he has just one top 10 in 26 major championship starts, and missed the cut in both of last year’s final two majors. In my experience, that kind of disparity tells you something deeper is happening—not just mechanical flaws, but perhaps the weight of expectation. The pressure seems to get to him when the stakes truly elevate. It’s a reminder that LIV success, for all its financial appeal and competitive intensity, still doesn’t automatically translate to major championship mettle.
“He has, rather mysteriously, won just three times in 45 LIV starts but he is the circuit’s undoubted star attracting fans, wowing social media users and earning millions.”
That’s the Bryson DeChambeau paradox right there. In my three decades around this game, I’ve rarely seen a player generate so much gravitational pull while posting comparatively modest win totals on his primary circuit. But here’s what separates Bryson from the pack: he actually wins major championships. He won the U.S. Open, finished second in the PGA Championship twice, and consistently contends when the pressure is highest. That’s not a minor distinction. That’s the difference between a LIV star and a genuine transcendent figure in golf.
The Rising Tide and the Fading Stars
David Puig represents something LIV desperately needs: genuine youth trajectory. The 24-year-old Fireballs member doubled his top-five finishes in LIV starts last year and finished top 20 in all twelve of his competitions. Add a victory in the Australian PGA Championship, and you’ve got a player whose career arc is pointing decidedly upward. I’ll be honest—in my years covering the tour, watching a young player develop with this kind of consistency on a global stage is energizing. This is what LIV should be showcasing.
Then there’s Patrick Reed, the Augusta regular who seems to wake up in April with a calendar reminder tattooed on his arm. Five top-12 finishes in the last six Masters speaks volumes about a player who understands pressure and tradition. His Dallas victory last year and the Dubai Desert Classic win this January suggest the “Air Miles Hoarder” tag might finally be evolving into something more substantial on the LIV circuit.
But I’d be remiss if I didn’t address the elephant in the room: Cameron Smith’s trajectory has been nothing short of alarming. The 2022 Open Champion who landed eight top-five finishes that inaugural year has seen his form deteriorate with almost frightening speed. Just two top-five finishes in 2025, zero cuts made in five consecutive majors, and carding 78s in three major championships—these are the statistics of a player whose confidence has genuinely eroded. Having caddied in the ’90s, I remember conversations with players who hit similar walls. The physical mechanics often remain intact; it’s the mental fortress that crumbles. That said, his contending performance at the Australian PGA Championship offers a sliver of hope—he didn’t just show up, he competed at a level we haven’t seen in months.
“In 2025 he not only registered just two top fives (both of them fifth), he also failed to crack the top 20 in his last four LIV starts.”
Tyrrell Hatton rounds out this conversation as perhaps the most frustrating case study: genuine undiscovered potential. A LIV winner in 2024 with two subsequent DP World Tour victories and four top-20 major finishes, Hatton possesses the skill set for consistency. His recent decline—just two top fives in 2025—suggests either a swing issue or a confidence crisis. For a player of his demonstrated quality, that’s unacceptable.
What This Actually Means
Here’s what I think matters most about this championship race: it’s a referendum on what LIV Golf actually is after five seasons. We have proof that the circuit can develop winners (Niemann), attract superstars (DeChambeau), and provide consistent competition. What remains unproven is whether LIV success translates reliably to major championship contention—the ultimate measuring stick in professional golf.
The 2026 individual championship will reveal whether LIV has truly created an alternative pathway to greatness, or whether it remains, fundamentally, a lucrative exhibition that doesn’t quite answer golf’s deepest questions.
