All a bit rich: Cam Smith earns more than Max Verstappen but you wouldn’t know it ahead of US Masters
Despite his incredible wealth, the bloke himself doesn’t seem to have changed at all. You could swear he’s still a bit of a battler.
Cam Smith was on a Zoom call from Miami this week. What an agreeable fella. What a curious mix of humility and blazing confidence. A knockout of a knockabout. Only afterwards did a wiser soul than I suggest the most intriguing question of all. Mate, how are you spending all the dough?
Because Smith’s rolling in it. When his buggy skids to a halt off Magnolia Lane at next week’s US Masters, given his nine-figure worth, and how the folding stuff keeps coming like he’s hit the jackpot on an Atlanta slot machine that never stops paying, he could bail up a mega-wealthy patron at Augusta National and do a Kerry Packer: “Flip you for it.”
He could strut into the pro shop like the cashed-up Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack and roar: “Orange balls! I’ll have a box of those … give me a box of those naked lady tees … and give me two of those … and give me six of those … this is the worst looking hat I ever saw. You buy a hat like this and you get a free bowl of soup. Looks good on you, though!”
The numbers on Smith’s financial scorecard are mind-blowing. In two whirlwind years, he’s become Australia’s richest athlete. Something about it seems odd. The mullet. The mo. The Australian drawl. The normality of the bloke. He wouldn’t touch bling with a barge pole. His ship came in when LIV Golf’s boss Greg Norman gave him a $140 million sign-on fee to join the rebel tour. Mate’s rates, perhaps, from one Queenslander to another, but Smith deserved every cent as the British Open champion.
Now he can buy the ship, he can buy 10 ships, or at the very least the avid fisherman can get himself a bigger boat.
Should have asked him when he was chatting away on Zoom. Unless the question’s a bit rich. All he’s ever said of his new-found spending potential is a quick, “I don’t know, I’m pretty set, to be honest. I’m good. I’m good with what I’ve got.”
He’s an absolute knockout of a knockabout. More Queensland than XXXX. If being early to bed and early to rise keeps you healthy, wealthy and wise, an LIV Golf contract doesn’t hurt on the side. And still Smith has the down-to-earth demeanour of Lee Trevino facing a $10 putt with only five bucks in his pocket.
You could swear he’s a bit of a battler and yet Forbes reckons Smith is the world’s 17th-wealthiest athlete for annual income. That’s staggering. He’s just one slot behind Tiger Woods, who ain’t exactly singing for his supper, and a handful of places above Formula One world champion Max Verstappen.
The magazine states his details simply enough. Cameron Smith. Age, 30. Source of Wealth, Golf. Salary/Winnings: $US67 million ($102m). Endorsements: $US6 million ($9m). Worth: $US73 million ($111m).
That was a year ago. He keeps lining his pockets with silver and gold. His source of wealth is in full swing. His game is neat and tidy. The rewards are milk and honey. Ships are queuing up to come in.
Let’s stick with Australian dollars lest we go cross-eyed. He won $10.6 million in prizemoney in his first year of LIV Golf in 2022. Which came after he’d stuffed $3.8 million in his pockets at The Open at St Andrew, and $5.5 million for winning the Players Championship in America. He won another $35.5 million on last year’s LIV Tour, and will probably make more this year.
He uses Titleist clubs, wears Original Penguin clothes and slips into Footjoy shoes. Each of those companies are outlaying a pretty penny.
“It’s been really nice,” Smith says of the past couple of years. We don’t doubt him! LIV Golf and its bottomless pit of money was meant to be the root of all golfing evil but every rebel player sounds happy as a clam. The nicest thing of all for Smith is he’s become the $111-million man as an almost part-time player.
Well, that’s an exaggeration. But he’s earning more for playing less. He wants lifestyle as well as life’s little (and large) luxuries, and seeks more time on his boat than slogging through relatively meaningless events on the old USPGA Tour. He’s getting more time in Australia with his mates, his fishing rod and family while freeing himself of the weekly grind outside the majors. When he plays this weekend at Donald Trump’s Doral course at LIV Miami, where $6 million goes to the winner, it’ll be his fifth event of the year.
Five tournaments in four months. That’s hardly a killer schedule. And he’s still scooped up $4.1 million for so-so LIV results this season.
By comparison, Adam Scott is into his sixth event on the traditional American tour. He’s earnt $1.2 million for his toil. Smith could flip him for it.
“Generational wealth is there to be had,” Norman says of the LIV Golf brigade. “We’re giving them the opportunity to look into the future instead of month by month, year by year. Now players like Cam are working out how to maximise their value through generational wealth. These guys are so lucky to have that future laying out in front of them.”
The knockout of a knockabout took two risks when he ditched the establishment.
Rebel players might be banned from the majors. Smith grew up watching the Masters, and he was Open champion, and he would have been shattered to be forced out of the only tournaments that truly matter. Hasn’t happened.
He’s equally as passionate about representing Australia at the Olympics, and there’s the only downside to his move: the breakaway tour doesn’t carry world ranking points. Olympic selection this year will based on those rankings and so Smith is likely to miss out. “I knew that was a possibility,” he says.
To Augusta. Which sounds really nice, too. Six Australians will be teeing it up from next Thursday in pursuit of one of the grandest prizes in sport: a green jacket. Smith, Scott, Jason Day, Min Woo Lee, Cam Davis and amateur Jasper Stubbs feature in a tournament where the immaculate, historic course is as big an attraction as the players. I imagine pre-round snacks being dollops of caviar on buttered toast and sparkling mineral water shipped directly from the Italian Alps.
“For a golfer, it’s pretty perfect,” Smith says. “The golf course itself is unbelievable. The condition of it really is unbelievable but also the stuff they have around it for all the patrons. All the merchandising, all the shops, everything they do to make everyone’s experience pretty special. It’s definitely a place that’s close to a lot of people’s hearts, not just the players. There’s no plates of caviar but we do get treated like – I don’t know, it’s just unbelievable. Probably the best week of the year. For everything.”
The $111 million man could be a $200 million man by the end of this year. LIV Golf prizemoney keeps skyrocketing and his endorsements aren’t going anywhere.
He doesn’t have to do Zoom calls from Miami to promote his sport, but he does them anyway. He definitely doesn’t have to play the Australian PGA and Open championships every summer, but he keeps coming back. All to his credit.
When he won the PGA at Royal Queensland in 2022, his $225,000 cheque represented 0.05 per cent of his annual income. He spent a chunk of that on beers at the Breakfast Creek Hotel. As for the rest, where can all that dough possibly go?
Orange balls? A box of those? And a box of naked lady tees? Two of those, six of those, the worst-looking hat you ever saw? Or are you still good with what you already had?
Must remember to ask him. It can feel intrusive to talk finances with athletes but, then again, Smith isn’t remotely precious and he may just rattle off a detailed list.
His bank balance has become unrecognisable in the past two years but the bloke himself doesn’t seem to have changed one bit. You can get a bigger boat without inflating one’s ego. Still an agreeable fella.