Following the death of his son Jordan, Jim Hartsell recounts a lifetime of trips to Scotland and shines a light on the faraway people and places that helped him put his world back together.

When Revelation Comes

OK, there have been a ton of riveting storylines in the 2023 Solheim Cup.

A questionably exhausting venue, the youth invasion on both teams and no shortage of gritty matches. It’s tied up heading into Sunday singles, in a Solheim Cup that held Team Europe as the favorites. As someone watching from home, the momentum from both sides is palpable: the clutch putts, the incredible ball-striking, the roars and fist bumps that follow. It’s a deeply encouraging display of women’s golf, a representation it’s deserved for a long time from both teams – especially from its rising stars.

But one moment in particular stuck out to me, and many others on social media. The decision one veteran made in her Friday press conference, which, unfortunately, has shrouded the more profound storylines that surround the event. I’m not using this to take away from the quality of golf she’s played, either. Lexi Thompson, on all accounts, has fought tooth and nail for Team USA – when her place on the team was subject to scrutiny leading up to the Solheim Cup.

Paired with Lilia Vu in the Friday Four-Ball session, the Americans were right on the heels of Team Europe for the majority of the match until the 17th hole, when Lilia Vu birdied to tie the match. On the final hole, it all fell on Thompson’s third shot, where her ball was nestled in an unfavorable lie and her chip ended up a shank. Though she nearly holed her next attempt, the sequence earned Team Europe its first full point and cut its deficit to two points after the first day.

Later, in the press conference, a reporter asked Thompson about the moment: “There was some question on what you were trying to do and what you actually did do on the third shot. Could you just go through it for us?”

Immediately, her expression soured and she quipped: “I don’t need to comment on that.”

“I don’t need to comment on the chip. It was a bad lie, and I didn’t hit a good chip, but it was pretty much impossible.”

Followed by a hot mic mumble from Captain Lewis: “That’s a terrible question.” (The same captain who said it was a “missed opportunity” for both the Ryder Cup and Solheim Cup not to partner up in a co-contested year–a move that would effectively increase the audience for the Solheim Cup.)

Let’s rewind back to the question. Its phrasing could have definitely been better, but undeniably, it sought to understand and contextualize Thompson’s mindset. It was almost certainly an attempt to empathize with Thompson, not shame her. It would have been far worse to write that she choked without trying to seek out her perspective.

Nobody is out here deliberately shanking a chip in the Solheim Cup – that’s a given. Generally speaking, golfers cite their mental game at any chance they get, and we’d be remiss to pretend there wasn’t a strategy behind how Thompson wanted to escape a precarious lie and help seal a comeback half-point.

As both a reader and a writer, I’d much rather Thompson address her thought process than whatever split-second observation an onlooker crafts on deadline. No one can speak for Thompson aside from herself. No one in the media center, and not even Thompson’s teammates could ever fully capture whatever heartbreak she felt. The primary source will always be the most valuable one. It’s a journalistic standard.


Vulnerability is difficult for a woman with a platform. Say, do, or act the wrong way, and the ire is oftentimes far more personal than it would be to a man with a platform. I don’t think this moment defines Thompson’s character at all, but I certainly would have loved it if she took the opportunity to let the world in on how she approached and/or subsequently dealt with a difficult moment. 

We culturally set athletes on a pedestal, eagerly awaiting their heroic moments–and in golf, we’re often left waiting for a long time. Their pain points give that journey substance. This is where a good agent or PR person can be invaluable. Before the press conference, someone could have pulled Thompson aside and said “You’ll likely get a question about that chip, here are some strategies or approaches on how to answer.” Coddling her has the opposite effect.

None of us are entitled to Lexi Thompson in her entirety – but on a public stage, a public figure representing her home country in one of the biggest moments in her golf career means curiosity will follow. Especially when the Solheim Cup decorates the early morning weekend TV screens of that home country before it turns on its most major sport – a significant opportunity to further the brand of a sport that needs it.


The hero's (athlete’s) journey is seldom perfect. Who better than the hero themselves to explain it? Give us a chance to empathize with you.

Jessica Korda, also viewing from home, took to X (the artist formerly known as Twitter…) 

 “So sad seeing golf media, yet again, shred Lexi. It’s easy writing about other people’s mistakes. It’s golf, bad shots happen - give the girl a break. She grows the game more than anyone on tour…And she’s a great player!”

If a player is moving the needle, they are allowed to be asked about the moments in which they aren’t, either. The media does not exist to protect athletes – no matter their biases, backgrounds or beliefs. The role of media is to accurately depict what occurred – and a costly moment like Thompson’s shank qualifies. Censoring your questions because you assume it will cause an athlete discomfort would be a dereliction of duty.

She has earned her place in this Solheim Cup – and Captain Lewis’ trust to be the anchor match in Sunday singles. It is hard to deny her history in the event – six Solheim Cups deep, she is factually the most experienced player on Team USA. Her chosen response does not diminish any credibility as one of the great modern players. But with great power comes great responsibility – and her response left me wishing she navigated the moment with more openness.


And if Thompson had addressed it upfront, would we even be fixated on that half-point loss?


But it adds a greater focus to a narrative that Thompson has struggled to shake in her career: How well she withstands pressure-filled moments. Her role in Sunday’s anchor match magnifies that question.

Should the fate of the Solheim Cup be decided by Thompson with her back against the wall, staring down a chip just off

the 18th green at Finca Cortesin, what will go through her mind:

Success? Or the fear of having to talk — yet again — about failure?

Lexi Thompson! Let's Talk

For more content from our week on-site at the 2023 Solheim Cup, check out 

It has become gospel, within the world of golf, to think of Seve Ballesteros as the most important player in the evolution of the Ryder Cup. It was Ballesteros, after all, who instilled in Europe the swagger that turned an exhibition into a genuine rivalry. He did not see the Ryder Cup as a friendly match, he saw it as a street fight, one where his side was trying to earn respect. His inclusion in the event marked a clear division in its history. There was The Era Before Seve, there was The Era After Seve, and no one would argue the former was better than the latter.

You can make a decent case that Suzann Pettersen — who will captain the European squad this week and also at Robert Trent Jones Golf Club in 2024 (note: beginning next year, the Solheim Cup is moving back to even years) — has had a similar effect on the energy of the Solheim Cup.

She is the catalyst who changed everything for Europe.


The Solheim Cup, first held in 1990, wasn’t a total walkover for the United States at its inception. Although the Americans won the first clash handily, 11 ½ to 4 ½ , the Europeans won in decisive fashion two years later when the cup was held on their home turf, 11 ½ to 6 ½. But over the next 20 years, Europe slid into a role of the clear underdog. The United States won 8 of the first 11 contests, including three cups in a row on two separate occasions.

There were signs, however, that the talent gap was closing once Pettersen arrived. Though she was never the best player in the world, she emerged as an intimidating match play stalwart with an unrivaled intensity, much like Ballesteros. In 2003, Pettersen won her first four matches to help Europe win the cup for just the third time in the event’s history. In 2011, she went 3-1 and defeated Michelle Wie for a crucial point in singles on Sunday to help Europe snap a streak of three straight losses. Little by little, and with countless icy stare downs, it was Pettersen who helped shift the momentum away from the American side.


Her intensity backfired in a big way in 2015 when, in a tied fourball match, American Alison Lee scooped an 18-inch putt she thought had been conceded, and Pettersen spoke up and pointed out that no such concession had been made. Europe was awarded the hole, an uproar ensued, and Pettersen was widely criticized. A furious American squad rallied from four points down in the singles competition, the biggest comeback in the history of the Solheim Cup, and Pettersen spent the next week apologizing multiple times for what she called a lapse in judgment.

"I've never felt more gutted and truly sad about what went down Sunday on the 17th at the Solheim Cup,” Pettersen wrote 

But in a way, it was classic Pettersen, even in defeat. She was there to win, not to make friends.


Her final appearance as a player, in 2019, offered a healthy dose of redemption. After stepping away from competitive golf for two years to start a family, Pettersen was selected as a captain’s pick by Catriona Matthew and the entire Solheim Cup came down to her singles match against Marina Alex. When Pettersen made a 6-foot birdie putt to win the match and the Cup, she screamed toward the heavens in celebration, then declared it the perfect coda to her career, retiring from competitive golf amidst the celebration. Pettersen finished her Solheim career with a 18-12-6 record, having won four cups.

Europe, once clear underdogs, has now won four of the last six cups, and has a chance this year to win three straight for the first time in their squad’s history. Pettersen believes her team this year is the strongest team Europe has ever fielded, boasting a mixture of experience (eight of the twelve members will be participating in at least their third cup, led by playing vice-captain Anna Nordqvist’s seven previous cups)  as well as a pack of talented newcomers (Maja Stark, Linn Grant, Gemma Dryburgh).

“If you look on paper, we have the strongest team that I’ve ever been a part of, and that’s based on great performances over the last few years from all the players,” Pettersen said. “So with good results, there’s also expectations, but these girls are so up for it, so we can’t wait.”

Maguire was the star of the Solheim Cup in 2021, her first time playing the event, going 4-0-1 as the Europeans won 15-13, capturing their second straight trophy. It also marked the second time in the event’s history the Europeans won on American soil.

“Obviously last time went about as well as it possibly could have, but it's a brand-new event this time, it's a brand-new venue, a brand-new team, both on the Europe and the U.S. side,” Maguire said.

What kind of fire will we see from Pettersen as a captain? Even she isn’t quite sure.

“​​I've thought a lot about this, but obviously my competitive side has kind of changed a little bit after, first of all, becoming a mother and then second stepping away from a competitive life,” Pettersen said. “That feistiness and determination I had inside the ropes is probably still there, but it doesn't come clear as often as it used to.”

As captain, Pettersen says she’s been crunching numbers and poring over spreadsheets to help determine her pairings, but she is not interested in abandoning her instinct entirely.

“Throughout my career, I was somehow into stats, but I was also very much a feel player, and I was a bit of a -- like, I took a lot by instinct,” she said. “But it’s always nice to base your decisions on facts, and then you can kind of take your heart and your gut feel on top of that. So I think it’s a combination of all, but you can’t hide the facts, and I think it’s great to have in your back pocket, but I would say stats are like any rules, there’s exceptions to any rules. This is a game of golf. We’re all human beings. Yeah, you can statistically say these two players should be great together, but they also got to like each other, you got to have the dynamics.”

Pettersen’s counterpart, American captain Stacy Lewis, had her own reputation for feistiness and intensity during her playing career, and she relished playing the role of the underdog. She may need some of those emotions to rub off on her players this week if they’re going to pull off an upset.

“I don’t know what the rankings will show on paper but I mean, I think Europe has to be favored,” Lewis said. “They have won the last two. They have got really great players playing well. We are going overseas. And that’s not to doubt my team. I just think Europe is really, really strong. They have got all the momentum in this event right now. That’s going to be our biggest thing is we are going overseas, and we don’t have the momentum on our side. And so we are going to go try to flip it.”

The United States feels like a team in transition, with its veterans (Lexi Thompson and Danielle Kang) staring down the barrel of perhaps their final Solheim Cup while a big crop of rookies (Lilia Vu, Allisen Corpuz, Rose Zhang, Andrea Lee & Cheyenne Knight) are trying to build a foundation for the future.

“I'm not worried about the chemistry at all,” Lewis said. “These five, they are rookies, but they are so experienced, just as far as the amount of golf they have been able to play. Rose is the only true rookie but she's probably got more experience than a lot of us combined, in big events, that is. So not worried about the rookies at all, to be honest and I love having Lexi, Danielle, those that have been around and played a lot. We are going to rely on them quite a bit just for behind-the-scenes and leading the way there. They have won a couple of these things, and so you know, they really need to lead us in that way.”

As for strategy, Lewis informed her players during the selection process that she wouldn’t be using the “pod system” that’s been popular with recent Solheim Cup captains, one where players are divided up in “pods” based on similarities in their games and personalities. She wants this American squad to lean on each other as a group. Lewis seems more comfortable relying on analytics to guide her decision-making, particularly since the LPGA is partnering with the statistical modeling firm Twenty First Group for the first time. She has access to data no captain has ever had before.

“It’s been my start point for everything,” Lewis said. “It’s not the be all. There’s certainly personalities of people who do or don’t want to play together, maybe it’s a golf ball issue, but analytics are a huge part of what we’re doing and it’s helped justify things to me in my head and it’s helped justify things with the players as well.”

Going away from the Pod System, which has worked for America in the past, is certainly a risk, but it’s one the players seem to support.

“I think it's a new approach. It's a great approach,” said Ally Ewing. “I think, if anything, it's going to bring us together. It doesn't really cluster us or categorize us to certain people that we're around, for the most part, so I think we're going to see even more strength in the team room as an aspect of it. So I think it's going to be nothing but great for us.”

Thompson, who is playing in her sixth Solheim Cup, agreed with Ewing.

“Not that the pod system was a bad thing by any means, but I think Stacy has a great strategy in mind and just all keeping us together and not really breaking us apart,” Thompson said. “We all get along very well and we know each other's games well too, so that always helps. But I definitely believe that Stacy knows what she's doing, so we're excited for the week.”

If the United States is going to win, it could use a strong performance from Thompson, who has fallen to 26th in the Rolex World Rankings, a place she hasn’t been since her rookie season in 2012. In 11 starts on the LPGA this year, she’s missed the cut eight times and has looked lost and disinterested on the course much of this season.

“I'm not focusing on the past,” Thompson said. “I'm here with my team this week and going to represent my best.”

If Thompson needs any inspiration, she might find some in Petterson. In 2019, Pettersen had fallen to 620th in the world. Retirement seemed imminent, and there were plenty of critics who felt she didn’t deserve a spot on Team Europe. No one knew what to expect from her. But when the fate of the entire Solheim Cup rested on her, Pettersen delivered in dramatic fashion.

It was once again proof that, in this event, one putt can change a narrative forever.

2023 Solheim Cup Preview

Planning any trip is an iterative process. So two trip planning enthusiasts/logistics sickos planning a multi-modal trip to a remote region during a disastrous time period for the Scottish ferry system was bound to be a carnival of sorts. Our tentpoles were the book signing at Dunaverty, the associated stop at Machrihanish, some adventure out west, and then ending up on Arran, which isn’t the easiest place to get back to.

Ferry service interruptions and drastically limited frequency to Askernish/Barra/Harris put a crimp into things. Our best-laid plans to get to Askernish were dashed, unless we wanted to scratch Oban and spend a couple days getting there and back. We looked at flying, even going so far as to look at going from Campbeltown to Glasgow and then out to South Uist. That simply wasn’t logical. Will get there one day!


This was the first draft of the intinerary.

In the midst of all of this desire to get to the farthest reaches of the Hebrides, we were able to dig deeper on Kintyre and the west coast, afforded the time to spend a leisurely morning at Carradale, pop into Isle of Seil (and cross the “Bridge Over the Atlantic!”, set up a base in Oban for a couple nights, and get into a pickle on Mull. I do wish we’d carved out time for Gigha, but it would’ve meant a rushed middle of the trip. Tradeoffs!

Jim’s sense of curiosity can’t be overstated. Everywhere we went, native Scots approached Jim to tell him they’d never even considered stepping foot at many of the courses that he chronicled in the book, much less even heard of some of them. Also, as Jim mentioned on the podcast (link here), our sense of scale and distance is so warped as Americans. This often gets lost when people explore the possibility of Scottish trips. We’d be wise to be more like the Scots and dig deeper instead of casting such a wide net - there’s another two or three levels underneath what everyone typically does, and the context generates a deeper appreciation for 

Jim and I tend to put trips together similarly: identify a few mainstays, a few whimsical places, and then draw a line around those and figure out how crazy and far afield we can get, and then dial it back from there. It helps to have some constraints (like hotel availability or additional people in the traveling party who aren’t insane) to reign us in, otherwise I think we would end up out in the Orkneys and I’d be calling my wife that the trip is gonna go another three days and I’ll be home late. Leaning into the surprises and using them as an opportunity is the key. And building in that space to explore and not be scheduled out is wonderful, as it lets you glean intel and expertise from people along the way. Another plus of these less-visited locales and courses is that you can be flexible and rock up without a tee time. That’s certainly not the case everywhere (particularly Shiskine, Machrihanish in our case), but for every Carradale or Seil that we visited, there are 10 others waiting in the wings, both in these areas and in other places.


Jet lag, luggage, squeezing in some fun. The first day is always a bit of a circus. The drive from GLA out past Loch Lomond and then down the Kintyre Peninsula is a treat. Just as with East Lothian and Fife, a flight into Glasgow provides dozens of options for same-day golf (even a 36-hole day is in the cards). Conversely, I recall vacations Neil and I were fortunate enough to take as kids when we’d go out west to go skiing and you’d travel all day and then have to go rent skis or snowboard and then wait until the next day to hit the slopes. The anticipation was real and exhilarating, especially for such a sensory, physical experience. The drive from Glasgow provided whiffs of that: the procedural steps of passing through immigration, collecting the rental car (which both EDI and GLA are set up pretty poorly for, but also have delightful counter agents) and then setting off over the big bridge, past Loch Lomond and counterintuitively northward, until finally turning south hard against Loch Fyne (more on the oyster bar later) and down the A83 through (insert town names Inveraray, Lochgair, Lochgilpead, Ardrishaig and then Tarbert, and Paul McCartney’s farm and then crest the hill north of Machrihanish and peering down the coast in awe with the setting sun filling up the driver side of the car.

The distance is 57 miles and a continent (galaxy?) away. Sure, you could fly into the Campbeltown Airport that buts up against the ninth green at Machrihanish and marvel at one of the longest runways on earth (shoutout space shuttles and B2 and SEALS) and for shorter trips, why not, but if you really want the full monty, then drive. And we haven’t even gotten to Arran yet, which sits halfway back to reality but somehow even farther away. It’s like if someone took the geography of the Big Island of Hawaii, mixed it with the feeling and culture of the Scottish Highlands and dropped it 30 miles from the biggest city in the country. In the words of Jim: it’s not an accurate depiction of reality.

The triangle formed by the tiny village of Machrihanish on the west side of the peninsula, Campbeltown straight east occupying an impressive harbor, and Southend about twenty minutes south. Each borough has its own distinctive atmosphere: Machrihanish feels like an outpost at the edge of the earth, Campbeltown a glimpse at the past of thirty-something distilleries and a regional dairy and shipping center, shrinking away and reduced to three distilleries (Glenscotia, Glengyle, and Springbank - count me on team Glenscotia); and Dunaverty, smaller than you expect, looking out toward Sanda Island, and it’s tea house and wee golf course and then Dunaverty Rock, the abandoned Keil Hotel (owned by our guy Donnie!), Keil Cave, St Colomba’s footprint and the shores of Northern Ireland looming across the strait, the Harbor Bar and Portrush over there.

Since my first visit to Scotland in 2017, I’ve been inherently confused by the widespread derision of the country as a culinary backwater. Whether it’s at a highly regarded restaurant in Edinburgh, a two-person kitchen in a tiny clubhouse on Arran or Moray, or at a tea room in Dunaverty, I’ve been blown away by the ingredients and preparations. From the toasties and soup at a pub or small clubhouse, or oysters, langoustines, local beef, and fantastic veggies, it feels like Scotland is starting to stick up for itself to the wider world, showcasing the great ingredients and deep traditions, and showing that there’s more than pub food and Full Scottish Breakfasts (both of which are delightful!)


Also: Scotch Whiskey. With each progressive trip and new locale, I try to dig deeper on a different interpretation of Scotch. For years I tended toward American or even Irish Whiskeys, turned off by the peatiness in some of the mainstays on the Scotch Whiskey scene. Since then, I’ve realized there’s a lot more than just that flavor profile, even on Islay, which I’d always referenced as the peatiest of them all.

Jim drinking whiskey in our hotel with a great view.

Oban is a delight. Just go. Have never been to Queenstown, New Zealand, but this is what I picture it to be: a gateway to adventure and discovery, and with a bunch of world-class offerings to keep you sated when you return to the de facto home base. A highlight of the trip was the restaurant EE-USK, located on the waterfront in Oban. It’s an institution and rarely is a view like the one on offer matched by the quality of ingredients and skillful preparation (and by the Scotch list.) We did not get a chance to visit the Oban Seafood Hut (colloquially know as The Green Shack), but Jim swears by it. Really the whole strand in Oban is full of delightful bars and restaurants that go the extra mile in leveraging the world-class ingredients showing up on the docks a few yards away each evening. This increasing pride i

Other culinary standouts from the trip included Loch Fyne Oyster Bar on the initial drive down from Glasgow, the Corrie Hotel’s restaurant and bar (exactly what a small hotel restaurant should aspire to be), the haggis nachos at both the Black Sheep Pub and the Machrihanish Clubhouse (both supported by the same restaurant group), and the ice creams on offer from Greg’s Arran Ice Cream, particularly the “Scottish Tablet” flavor, which defies categorization. And a cut above all of these (and pretty much every other establishment I’ve ever visited) is Frances Hill’s Muneroy Tea Room in Southend. I’m more into sweets than anything decadent or rich, which typically leads me away from baked goods after a few bites. At Muneroy’s the cakes are virtually levitating off the plate they’re so light and fluffy. The balance of ingredients and sugar is spot-on, affording a certain levity that I’ve never tasted in a cake before.

Also, the coffee culture in Scotland (and in the UK at large) still mostly stinks.

When Revelation Comes: Scotland Loose Ends

Following the death of his son Jordan, Jim Hartsell recounts a lifetime of trips to Scotland and shines a light on the faraway people and places that helped him put his world back together. Presented by FootJoy.

NLU Film Room

Trailer: "When Revelation Comes" | A Film by No Laying Up

A few centuries ago, the golf-obsessed people of St. Andrews, Scotland, made a seemingly counterintuitive decision. On Sundays, the historic grounds of The Old Course would outlaw golf and embrace its role as a space for public recreation. The course is open. But the course is closed.

It’s a tradition that – barring tournament play or extenuating circumstances – is still upheld today. Go for a run. Walk your dog. Have a picnic. Huck a frisbee. Do cartwheels over the Swilcan Bridge. Jump the burn. Let your kids build a sand castle in one of the Seven Sisters. Do whatever you want. Just respect the course and respect the rules: No golf.


I’ve been at The Old Course for one of these Sundays and the result is, in my opinion, a bucket list golf experience up there with any in the world. So much of the charm of The Old Course is the way it morphs, evolves and changes as you look at it from different angles. On one of these Sundays, you can grab a coffee, find a yardage book and go get lost out on the most interesting course in the world for as long as you want. No one is playing behind you.

Go look at that green from the other side!

 where Cam putted from on 17. Could I do that? I could do that.

At least for us Americans, the whole day carries with it a surreal feeling that can only be summed up as: “Should we really be doing this?” As you start out down the middle of the first fairway, you can’t help but look over your shoulder, waiting for a sprinting official from the St. Andrews Links Trust to tackle you for a 15-yard loss. But it doesn’t happen. The keepers of The Old Course look the other way for one day a week and trust that you aren’t going to screw it up for everyone else. And, for the most part, no one really has.

The reason I bring all this up is because that feeling is the closest approximation to what it was like last week at the Walker Cup, where fans on-site got an up-close look at the future of competitive golf through a lens that felt much more like the sport’s past.

(Pause: If you’re unfamiliar with the Walker Cup, 

from myself and Wolfie. Despite a great start from the GB&I squad, the U.S. completed a comeback victory on the final day.)


I can’t believe I had never been to a Walker Cup. I still can’t believe they could all be like that – that chaotic, intimate and historic – but the people who make a point to attend each one insist that they are. That’s why they go.


Yes, there are technically ropes, held by volunteers who make sure competitors have enough space to execute shots. But after the ball is away, fans, players and caddies march toward the next shot together, shoulder-to-shoulder, before spectators form an unbroken circle around The Old Course’s massive double greens. You know that feeling of camping out behind a tee box for six groups just to have an eventual view of a Rory driver? At the Walker Cup, you get that view every time you want it.

I can’t believe that’s how golf tournaments used to be. That’s one of the big bittersweet feelings you take back with you. There are no life insurance activations or data-harvesting “fan villages.” You can hear conversations between players and caddies because you’re standing right next to them. There is no hierarchy of hospitality passes dangling from people’s necks – you look to your left and notice the chairman of Augusta National is out walking with the matches between a few St. Andrews University students. The more PGA Tour events you’ve been to in your life, the more surreal it is.

There was one mini grandstand overlooking the 11th tee. Even that seemed like it was there for altruistic reasons; not to sell 

, but to celebrate the fact that people in those seats could simultaneously see the 11th green, the seventh green, the 12th tee, the eighth green 

 the 10th green because The Old Course rules.

From an on-course perspective, the event contains absolutely no B.S. It is as pure-golf as it possibly gets in today’s world. (From a non-golf perspective, I’d listen to an argument that it’s almost entirely B.S. But I’m happy to ignore the hours of weepy speeches and cocktail receptions in exchange for such a fantastic and unique viewing experience.)

This type of atmosphere at a state high school tournament would be enough to make for an enjoyable day for anyone who loves watching golf. The fact that you’re instead watching future major champions dissect the best venues in the world makes it jump to the top of the list of best golf tournaments I’ve ever attended.

Because it can’t be said enough times: The venues leading up to last week’s event at The Old Course were National Golf Links, Royal Lytham, LACC, Hoylake and Seminole. The sites that have been announced going forward? Cypress Point, Lahinch, Bandon Dunes and Oakmont.


I can only speak to the experience I had last week while filming in St. Andrews, a place well-versed in hosting and trusting visitors. Who knows if Cypress Point will have the same laissez-faire attitude toward public fans roaming their hallowed grounds? And as this type of hyper-authentic experience goes extinct in the world of golf, who knows what the USGA will charge for tickets in order to keep it that way? (For what it’s worth, tickets at The Old Course were 20 pounds for the day and 35 for the week for the 14,000-plus that attended.)

But, man. If Cypress in 2025 is going to be one-tenth the experience that The Old Course was this year, it might be time to start looking at flights.

It’s an easy comparison to make, but in a year when so much of the conversation around competitive golf has been about purse sizes, guaranteed contracts, personal brands and congressional hearings, my 

 was it fun to just spend a week with great people watching great players on a great golf course.

Soon enough the bulk of those players will be at the center of all those things that are making pro golf increasingly less fun. But for this week at The Old Course, things remained uncomplicated.


I’m thankful we preserved as much as we could on the hard drives we brought home.

one of the best parts of watching this type of event at The Old Course was score in relation to par was totally irrelevant.


In major championships, we’re lucky to get to see The Old Course every five years or so. But each time The Open arrives, so much of the conversation around St. Andrews is about distance, protecting par and the invisible threat of 59’s desecrating golf’s holy land.

In the match-play format of The Walker Cup, all you really care about is who gets the ball in the hole first. I watched Gordon Sargent go 4-0 last week and have no idea whether he shot 58 or 68 in any of his rounds. I know he was able to use his prodigious length to put an immense amount of pressure on his opponent hole after hole. And I know he was playing a golf course that somehow had about six par 3s. But never once did it cross my mind where he stood in relation to par.


I’m not saying any of this is some solution to the distance discussion – having a little wedge into the Road Hole still evokes quite 

. What I’m saying is that The Old Course might have more thrilling half-par holes than any other course we see regularly and it was a great change of pace to actually see it in a match play context.

I think this, along with the microscopic logistical footprint of the event, is one of the reasons the USGA/R&A feels so confident continuing to take this event to iconic venues that are no longer realistic options for major championships. It seems like as good of a compromise as is possible in modern competitive golf.

I’m not sure what I can tell you that his rèsumè, his ball speed and his 4-0 record don’t say for him, but man it was cool to watch the No. 1 amateur in the world play The Old Course for a week straight.


Yes, the distance stuff was a thrill while he was goofing around in his practice rounds – he hit the stick with his tee shot on 18 one of the days, he drove the 414-yard sixth hole and he had a realistic chance to fly the burn at No. 1 (he came up just short). But once the actual event started, his demeanor, his shotmaking and his quiet confidence really did stand out on a team full of stud Americans.

After winning his match on Saturday evening, he talked about his process leading up to his final tee shot on 18.


“It would have been a perfect 3-wood,” he said. “But I would have had to start it out over the Russacks Hotel.” Instead, Sargent choked off a massive slice driver that rolled up and onto the putting surface to all but secure a point.

I also can’t express to you just how fast he plays. What a dream.


 over the course of the week was 17-year-old Connor Graham from the GB&I team.


Graham was one of the youngest players to ever participate in the event and he had the look to prove it. When sitting his afternoon singles match on Saturday, walking around outside the ropes and watching his team, one fan (it was Randy) mistakenly thought he was a player’s younger brother that had found an extra uniform to show his support.

Graham’s curly blond hair, as well as his jittery demeanor on the course and a knack for holing some big, unlikely putts bore an uncanny resemblance to videos of young Jordan Spieth. It was all I could see after making the connection.


Graham absolutely held his own against some of the biggest U.S. names as well. He and countryman Calum Scott earned the first GB&I point of the week with a win in the first session. They then took the souped-up U.S. duo of Sargent and Nick Dunlap (the recent U.S. Am winner) all the way to the 18th, narrowly losing 1 down.


In a cruel joke from the golfing gods on the final day, Graham was matched up in singles against Stewart Hagestad, the oldest player on the U.S. side and by far the tallest on either team.


If I was going to show you one screenshot to try to explain why this event rules, it would probably be this one.

, but as the Solheim and Ryder Cups descend upon us, I have to think there are some other things to yell besides “come onnnn!” and “lesssss go!” when putts go in.

I’ll be thinking on this topic and encourage you to do the same.


Hagestad, 32, has now played on four Walker Cup teams

Since most players who qualify for Walker Cup teams these days turn professional shortly after, Hagestad’s run is unusual, to say the least. He’s the 16th player in the history of the 100-plus-year-old event to have four wins to their name and the first in nearly 40 years (Jay Sigel) to win four in a row.


Hagestad wasn’t facing quite the same age gap that U.S. Captain Mike McCoy did while playing on the 2015 team, when he teed it up as a 52-year-old alongside teammates like Bryson DeChambeau (21), Denny McCarthy (22) and Maverick McNealy (19). But the difference between a 32-year-old golf history buff and a collection of 19 and 20-year-old college superstars was very fun to see up-close.

While Hagestad likely had much more in common with the investment bankers in iconic logos standing outside the ropes, it was fun to watch him pick his spots with his teammates and embrace his role as a pseudo vice captain. When the jet lag would hit guys mid-practice round, he would come up with three-hole games or challenges to keep teammates engaged. With the U.S. facing a 7.5 to 4.5 deficit heading into the final day, Hagestad opted to sit the morning session, despite a resounding 4 and 3 victory that afternoon.

“Our leader in the room was Stewart,” McCoy said.

“And he stepped up and just said, ‘look, I'm not a great foursomes player, so I'm going to sit.’ That was pretty gracious on his part…I was planning on using him because he was playing so well.”


The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come around on the idea of having a designated mid-am player on the Walker Cup team and it was fun to see Hagestad show the game to back up his selection. He finished the week 2-1 after defeating Graham in the afternoon singles. As I write this, he’s making a run at his third U.S. Mid-Am title.


One of my favorite memories from this event 

Saturday morning before the first match.


For the film project we were working on, I was waiting for one of the U.S. players to finish his physio work before following him to the first tee. So I grabbed a seat in the hallway outside the two team rooms, which were essentially just partitioned hotel conference/ballrooms.

Even at 7 in the morning, it’s hard to overstate the volume of the music that was blaring from the GB&I team room. I wish I could put my finger on how to describe the playlist. It wasn’t inspirational music, per se. It was just generally… happy... music that makes you want to sing along. Music that makes your shoulders a little less tense. “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. That sort of thing.

The GB&I players who left the team room were laughing and bouncing, almost arm-in-arm, seemingly carrying themselves to the first tee without a care in the world. By contrast, the U.S. players all had their own Beats headphones on, locked into their own world, their own processes and routines.

In an event where 18 of the 26 points are decided by singles matches, the U.S. talent advantage of course eventually flipped things in America’s favor. But damned if the GB&I team didn’t come out and win 3 of those first 4 matches.


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