Inside The Albany Gates, Everyone's Got The Same Question: Have You Seen Sam Bankman-Fried?

Alex Wong. Getty Images.

Two larger-than-life figures are roaming the manicured grounds inside Albany's gates this week. One of them is perhaps the greatest golfer ever. The other is accused of orchestrating the seminal crime of the cryptocurrency era. 

Tiger Woods has been everywhere. He's not playing in the golf tournament—his bionic right leg acted up at the wrong time—but he's the host of the Hero World Challenge. And, as with everything he does, Tiger takes his hosting duties very seriously. He felt bad that he couldn't play in the pro-am with those who paid for that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so he gave a putting lesson on the practice green. He wore a microphone during the "Hero Shot" and shot the shit to Justin Thomas about other players' moves. He did not hold back when speaking with media on Tuesday, when he called for Greg Norman's resignation and painted a somewhat bleak picture of his golfing future. 

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Woods, all these years and all those surgeries later, still commands a room like no one else. It doesn't matter if it's a room full of billionaires and Super Bowl MVPs; when Tiger walks in, every stops and stares. And again, if you're at Albany this week, you're going to see him quite a bit. He is as unguarded as he ever is inside this billionaires' oasis. He's an investor in the property, alongside guys like Justin Timberlake and Ernie Els. Around here, he looks…normal. During Wednesday's pro-am, Woods cruised around the course in a golf cart with his two dogs. They'd wait for his GO!, and then they'd sprint for a while and wait for further direction. Tiger—he's just like us! 

That other guy? He's been more careful with his movements. 

Yes, this fantasy-land doubled as the staging ground for the FTX debacle—and it remains the home of Sam Bankman-Fried, the face of it all. He moved here from Hong Kong into a $30 million beachside home that's rumored to be the largest on the property. He brought his friends with him, too, and bought multiple penthouse "condos" with money that might not have been his to spend. 

This Bahamas move was, of course, by design. From the Washington Post: "When Bankman-Fried and his band of crypto risk-takers moved to the Bahamas last year in a blitz of extravagant spending, they promised to remake the island paradise into a global capital of the new financial elite. Some Bahamians said they felt lucky to have an opportunity to work so close to a superstar."

To say it all went to shit is akin to saying Woods' has struggled with injuries in his career. That's to say: It doesn't go nearly far enough. With each passing day, more damning information emerges. And SBF has remained at Albany throughout this fiasco. He explained his logic for doing so to the New York Times in a cringey Zoom interview. 

"I'm in the Bahamas…I have been in the Bahamas for the last year. I've been running FTX from the Bahamas. I've been running FTX digital market, our primary operating entity down here, you know, with, um, Bahamian regulators….You know, right now, I'm, you know, looking to be helpful anywhere I can with any of the global entities that would love my help." 

He was then asked if he could return to his native United States: "I…I…to my knowledge, I could." 

But he hasn't. So when 20 of the best golfers in the world congregated here, and their entourages, and 60-odd media folks, the gossip centered around the Crypto Bigfoot. Except for Matt Fitzpatrick, that is. Fitzpatrick's life has changed significantly in the six months since he won the United States Open, and it's forced him to take a step back and evaluate how he wants to allocate his time. He's decided that death-scrolling social media does not make the cut. 

"I'm, like, off the grid" he says, half-joking. "So I don't really have any idea what's going on with that." 

But he's in the minority. Collin Morikawa wants a glimpse, so he scanned the penthouses that encircle the marina—big-boy Yachts only—but no luck. 

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"I was hoping to see him!" Morikawa joked. "Where you at, SBF?! It's been rumored that he's been here. I don't know if he's still here." 

He is indeed. But has anyone actually seen him? Like, in the flesh? We know of exactly one sighting, but only secondhand. During Wednesday's pro-am round, one major champion in the field told a story involving Jimmy Dunne, the financier who has emerged as a proper powerbroker in golf. He's the president of Seminole in Florida and has a rolodex of memberships that'd make any golf nut drool. He's now on the PGA Tour's policy board. He's best pals with Rory McIlroy. And he saw SBF. 

"On the drive in here (Jimmy) was asking his driver all these questions about SBF," the player said. "Asking where he is, if anyone's seen him. Then he walks into the building he's staying in and boom, right there, he's nose to nose with SBF—wearing that same shirt. Said he did not look great." 

There's something discordant about it all—you picture financial mischief happening inside hectic New York offices, not in this idyllic paradise. It's impossible to overstate how not-real this place feels. There is not a blade of grass out of place. Big yachts are small yachts here. (The guy who founded this place, Joe Lewis, has a yacht so big that it doesn't fit in the harbor he built). A 24/7 concierge service waiting at your beck and call. Ten-dollar lattes. It's where the rich and famous go to do normal things without being bothered—to wait in line at the coffee shop, to drink a few beers by the pool, or to chase your dogs around in a golf cart. A huge part of the place's appeal is how lowkey it is. 

No longer. Albany's name is now synonymous with something you don't want to be synonymous with. And the man responsible remains holed up right here on the property.