This content first appeared in the June 2.0 edition of the No Laying Up newsletter. To be the first to receive content like this, sign up for our newsletter 

Our dads are irreplaceable playing partners, and the ones that gas us up — or the ones we gas up! The ones we share once-in-a-lifetime experiences with, including shots that belong on the SportsCenter top 10. So here's a thank you to the NLU dads in the form of six short essays — and a happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.

 The only golf trophy I’ve ever won is a bit of mystery to me. It goes back over 25 years to the annual Hyde Park Golf & Country Club Parent-Child Tournament. My Dad and I would play each year, mainly because it involved spending a nice Saturday with our friends, Dan MacConnell and his son, Scott. It was an 18-hole tournament, but neither my dad nor I were much in the way of golf. I think breaking 90 was a good day for my old man, while breaking 100 was a thrill for me back then. We’d played in this event several times over the years, never coming close to sniffing a trophy or expecting to. But 1999 was different. And to this day, I have no idea why. 

It was a terribly unmemorable day of golf for both of us. We completed our 18 holes, turned in our scorecard, and went to grab a bite to eat by the pool. When it came time for the little winner announcement and trophy ceremony, we were sitting back, wondering who had won, certain it wouldn’t be us. Again, we stunk at golf. So you can imagine our shock when “Chuck and Philip Landes” were called up to collect the winner’s plaque. 

Surely, there was a mistake. Had they added our scores wrong? Had we somehow messed up our card? We felt the need to make certain the Head Pro knew what he was doing here. He assured us he did. So, we sheepishly collected our hardware and enjoyed nice congratulations from our fellow competitors. 

I asked my dad recently if he remembers anything from the round that stands out, and he is at a perpetual loss. We both have no idea how we won. It was a handicapped event, so that is the overarching answer, but I guess we just picked the right holes to throw some bogeys and a couple pars on the card? I can assure you we weren’t that tuned in to where (or how many) pops we were getting. 

My dad and I still laugh about our win today. And while I’ve gotten a bit better at the game, I won’t come close to collecting any hardware. And my dad’s love/hate relationship with golf has slowly transformed into simply a hate relationship–I think he might play once or twice per year. So he’s unlikely to ever win anything again. But nobody can ever take the 1999 Hyde Park Parent Child Tournament championship from us. Those flags fly forever.

 I have played in countless scrambles throughout my golfing life. I am, generally, an excellent scramble partner. If you remove the pressure of having to count every stroke, I can masquerade as a shockingly good golfer, someone who swings from the heels with all the confidence (and body type) of a young Babe Ruth. Even into her 70s, my mom remains the best golfer in our family, an 11-time winner of the senior club championship back at her country club in Missoula. She drives it as straight as the Montana interstate, and she putts like an artist. We are a formidable duo in summer scrambles. 

Unfortunately, this does not leave my father with much to do when he joins us in these competitions. He does not hit the ball high, or far, or even particularly straight. He is a competent putter, so this is where he tries to make an impact. If we are going for a Par 5 in two, he is often reluctant to even take a rip at a ball, particularly if we already have one up by the green. “Why bother?” he says. “That is well beyond my capabilities at this point in my life.” 

There is a hole, however, at the Missoula Country Club that will forever feel like sacred ground to me, because of something that happened a decade ago. It is the 10th — short Par 5 with a formidable pond in front of the green. The details of that July day are still vivid in my mind. A decent drive left us 220 in. My mom laid up short, knowing her limits. I struck a long iron heavy, then watched it splash miserably into the pond. My dad grabbed his wedge, preparing to hit a second lay up. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, incredulous as ever. 

“I don’t have that shot,” he insisted. He wasn’t wrong. It had been years since he’d carried a ball 200 yards, much less with a 3-wood. But it seemed silly to me to surrender without consequence. 

“Maybe just one time, you do,” I said. “Another lay up doesn’t help us. Let’s give it a go.” 

He sighed and reluctantly yanked a wood from his bag. 

I have seen thousands of great golf shots throughout my life. I have seen Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy hit towering, majestic, exquisite draws into the 15th green at the Masters, and I’ve seen Bryson DeChambeau and Jon Rahm hit balls that appeared to briefly flirt with the ozone layer. 

But none can compare — at least in my heart — to the 3 wood my father hit that day, the way it started low and climbed like an airplane, the way it reached its apex just as it arrived at the pond, and then landed softly on the bank beyond it, kicking forward and rolling out to 10 feet from the pin.

I don’t remember the specifics of our celebration, only that my family erupted like Bobby Thompson had just homered off Ralph Branca. My father closed his eyes and began to laugh. For a few seconds, his whole body shook. We whistled and we yelled, we thumped him on his back and across his broad shoulders, and I’m certain you could hear our howling all throughout the course as it ricocheted back and forth between the pines.

 One of my greatest golf memories with my dad was having him on the bag for the 2023 Pebble Beach Pro-Am. It was something neither of us could have ever pictured, and I would legitimately crack up every time I would look over and see him just casually chatting with Bill Murray. I'm not sure I would fully believe that any of this happened if it weren't for some of these photos. (

 Growing up, I remember my dad complaining about golfers. He managed our family's bar, and I think he just hated that the golfers all came in on Saturdays after their rounds and made it busy in the afternoon. He didn't complain about the game, though, and used to take us to the local mini golf/driving range/par 3/batting cage place for fun. I remember making a hole-in-one on that 1st hole of Waltzes' Golf Farm's chip & putt course ONE TIME (I had to have been 12 or 13 years old) and he kept calling me Nancy Lopez for the rest of the round. 

As I got older and started to play "real golf," he stopped working at the bar and started to play more often, too. He would tell me that he was going to beat me next time out because he "watched a lot of Golf Channel" and "had Tiger's swing down." He has not beaten me. He does not have Tiger's swing. He does love to have a cold PBR with me as we laugh and talk about the birdies we are gonna make on the next hole. And that's what it's all about.

 My dad is not good at golf, but what I appreciate about playing with him is that he still sincerely tries to improve. He wants to get better. He wants to go to the range ahead of the round. He wants Tron and I to give him tips. He wants to keep score. When he inevitably hits a snipey low left bullet or high spinny slice early in a round, he impulsively goes to his pocket to hit another one. It’s not that he wants to cheat or make his score look better. The impulse for a breakfast, brunch, lunch, and afternoon snack ball throughout the round comes from a genuine desire to improve. He wants to prove to himself that he can get better immediately. I love that. 

I feel like not caring or having apathy has become in vogue in today’s world. It’s easier not to care or not try. It’s safe to be apathetic. It would be a lot easier for my dad to choose not to keep score or ride in the cart as Tron and I play. But he doesn’t even consider it. He wants to play, and he wants to compete. He’s sincere in his effort, even if he looks bad or fails. It’s one of the things I admire most about my dad. He’s comfortable in his own skin and sincere in his intention. This is on display when he’s playing bad golf, and that’s why I love playing golf with him.

 I’ll be brutally honest: I HATE playing golf with my dad. He keeps score but takes at least one mulligan each hole (a brutal combo), possesses the most unreasonable expectations for each shot, is a great athlete but lacks any discernible patience on the course. He's allergic to discipline, tempo, course management, or remembering a swing thought. And at least once a round says “I hate this f*cking game!” I’ve probably played over a hundred rounds with my dad and I don’t think he’s ever been able to sign for an honest score. But he’s not trying to — that’s not why he’s out there. His swing is simultaneously way too long and way too fast, leading to staggering inconsistency. And through it all, he somehow putts well enough to keep drawing him back, and has gotten more into walking in his later years. And if you ever need a “D” player in a scramble, he is your guy - always good for a couple of 250-yard drives right down the middle, some squared-up mid-irons, and he’ll always be prone to rolling in a few 10-15 footers or lag-putting his face off. 

 It’s the one sport he really locks in on being a spectator. Some of my most indelible memories are sitting on the couch on a Sunday, the whole family transfixed with what was going on. The Masters was on dawn until dusk. Yelling at the TV at the top of our lungs during Van de Velde at Carnoustie was a core memory. Rooting against Sergio and Jeff Maggert when they popped up on a leaderboard. Making jokes like “Cink sunk” when he made a bogey. And getting weirdly into all the week-to-week garden variety PGA Tour events on CBS during the summer, even when Tiger wasn’t in the field. We watched a lot of golf. It was the cornerstone of our Saturday and Sunday afternoons (sometimes later that night on “TiVo”) and, while it wasn’t apparent at the time, it laid the groundwork for what Neil and I now do for a living. 

So here’s to you, Franchise. You may not be wired for playing golf, but you taught me how to forge my own relationship with the game, appreciate greatness, and passed along your love of the Masters, specifically. You love the game in your own way.

Dear Dad

Here are two sobering truths about podcasting:

Anyone can start one.

Maintaining one is something of a small miracle.

The numbers are a bit fuzzy, but according to the most frequently cited statistics, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 3-4 million podcasts out there. If you have an idea for a podcast, there is a decent chance someone else had it first. The barrier to entry is minimal, but it’s harder than most people assume. Most podcasts — and this is true — die an unceremonious death by episode three. If you make it to 20 episodes, you are in the 1 percent of all podcasts.

So what does that say about the No Laying Up podcast, which just crossed the 1,000 episode mark this week?

If nothing else, it means we’ve been good at showing up.

I used the term “we” somewhat liberally because I’ve only been an official part of No Laying Up for two and a half of our 10 years in existence. But at least spiritually, I feel like I’ve been along for nearly the entire run, cheering on and signal boosting the boys wherever I could as we all tried to find our way in this ever-changing media landscape.

I knew what a podcast was back in 2014, mostly thanks to Sarah Koenig and Serial, which debuted that year. But it would be ridiculous to suggest that anyone thought it was going to radically change golf media back then. The magic of those early days of the NLU podcast is that you didn’t even know (or care) if anyone was listening; you just treated it like a fun conversation among friends who were passionate about golf.

In 2014, it felt like a major portion of golf media was — just being direct here — insufferably serious. There was a clear appetite to talk about the game the way you would talk about it with your friends, either in front of a television or after the round over beers, but no one was filling it. That’s the environment in which the podcast emerged.

In its own unique way, the podcast became something of an incubator for future golf media careers. The first non-NLU founder to appear? That was Shane Bacon, then the editor of Yahoo’s Devil Ball Golf blog, in Episode 4. He’d go on to do broadcast work for Fox Sports, NBC Sports and ESPN, and you can now catch him calling featured groups each year at the Masters.

Episode 5 marked the first appearance by Kyle Porter, who’d just started covering golf for CBS Sports. In the early years, Porter was essentially the Regis Philbin to Soly’s David Letterman, appearing as a guest 14 times in the first 100 episodes. Episode 7 featured Shane Ryan, a future writer for Golf Digest, but at the time, a contributor to Grantland. Ashley Mayo (the future Editorial Director at Golf Digest, then the Chief Brand Officer at 8 AM Golf and Cabot), made an appearance, and so did Chad Coleman (now the Chief Brand Officer for Dude Perfect). Even Barstool Trent showed up for an episode, in a crossover event that would play out like an Avengers movie if it occurred today.

And NLU Episode 15? That just happened to feature yours truly, at the time an ESPN feature writer who’d spent 15 years writing about football but had recently developed a passion for golf, and probably replied to the NLU Twitter account a bit too often. Soly asked me to record audio on my end, then send it to him so he could mix it with his own. That’s how rudimentary it was. If you can track down that episode, you will be treated to a delightful story from Soly about a time he, Randy, and T.C. (whom he affectionately refers to as Todd and Phil as he’s telling the story) shot pool and did a “LeBron Shot” with Todd Hamilton. I listened to it recently and smiled, knowing everything that was on the horizon.

I do an Ernie Els impression in that episode, by the way, but not Gary Player. Somehow, my Ernie Els impression has regressed.



There was no set schedule early on. Weeks would occasionally go by without an episode appearing in the feed. Soly and I fact-checked it recently, and from September 19, 2014, to mid-January of 2015, there wasn’t a single episode. The Twitter account (NoLayingUp) was thriving, but the heartbeat of the podcast was barely a flicker.

Near the end of 2014, however, someone out there sent Soly an email. We tried to find it recently, but it’s long gone, reduced to little more than memory and vapor. The emailer wondered: Was the podcast going to continue? They had really enjoyed it and hoped it wasn’t dead.

“I remember thinking: Ok, this matters to someone,” Soly told me recently. “Maybe there is something there. I need to keep doing this.”

That was just enough of a nudge to convince Soly to circle back and record more episodes.

In January of 2015, Kyle Porter returned (this time with actual microphones) to talk about Brooks Koepka. In May of 2015, Justin Thomas became the first professional golfer to appear on the podcast. Soly had to get up at 2 am in Amsterdam to record at the time Thomas wanted to record, but something was clearly cooking. Billy Horschel showed up in episode 26, and Max Homa in episode 31. D.J. Piehowski made his first appearance in episode 35. Rory McIlroy arrived in episode 56. Everything changed from there.

These days, we frequently get emails asking for advice from aspiring college students, and I am often unsure of what to tell them. When I was trying to break into media in 2000, there was a clear playbook. You got an internship at a great newspaper or a magazine, you did great work, you hustled, scratched, and clawed your way into a full-time gig, and you rose from there. How do you explain to a college student the podcasting journey?

Soly and I once recorded a wrap-up podcast for the 2017 Open Championship in a flat in Southport, England, sitting so close that our knees were touching because our recording equipment was the Voice Memo app on his iPhone, which was resting on his leg. I’d talked my ESPN colleagues into letting him stay with us for free. If you want to know a great way to form a friendship for life, I can highly recommend watching Jordan Spieth do unspeakable things and then recounting it as you’re practically sitting in each other’s laps so the mic can record your ridiculous musings. They don’t teach that in journalism school.

There are no rules to success, and sometimes, you make it up as you go. You don’t need a map, you just need the desire to create stuff.

If you do, like-minded people will find it.

As much as I’ve loved seeing our podcast evolve over the last decade, with smart agendas and scavenger hunts and brilliantly-produced narrative episodes, I also cherish the memory of the days when it was just a loose group of friends trying to figure it out, telling dumb stories, barreling toward a future we couldn’t see clearly.

Because that’s ultimately what it still is.

Everyone involved had a hunch that we knew where we were going, and when you think about it, that’s how a thousand episodes become two thousand.

We hope you’ll come along for that ride, too.

Here are two sobering truths about podcasting:

Anyone can start one.

Maintaining one is something of a small miracle.

The numbers are a bit fuzzy, but according to the most frequently cited statistics, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 3-4 million podcasts out there. If you have an idea for a podcast, there is a decent chance someone else had it first. The barrier to entry is minimal, but it’s harder than most people assume. Most podcasts — and this is true — die an unceremonious death by episode three. If you make it to 20 episodes, you are in the 1 percent of all podcasts.

So what does that say about the No Laying Up podcast, which just crossed the 1,000 episode mark this week?

1000 Episodes Later

This originally appeared in the March 28th, 2025 edition of the No Laying Up newsletter. Sign up 

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A few words — if you’ll allow me — regarding this picture. 

In 1996, shortly after his son turned professional, Earl Woods gave a quote to Sports Illustrated that is among the most ridiculous things ever uttered about a professional athlete. It was not possible to go viral 29 years ago; the internet was but a small part of how we consumed sports back then. But Earl Woods went whatever the 1996 equivalent of going viral would be. The following quote was everywhere, and what makes it even more insane, looking back now, is there was a serious debate about whether Earl might possibly be right. 

"Tiger will do more than any other man in history to change the course of humanity," Earl Woods said.

The father was not referencing the impact his son would have on sports. He was not predicting that Tiger would be a cultural giant like Jackie Robinson or Muhammad Ali or Arthur Ashe. He was, without hesitation or apology, going even further, predicting that Tiger would change the destiny of the entire human race. 

The writer, Gary Smith, a legendary profiler for Sports Illustrated, wanted to make certain he understood Earl correctly. Was he saying he would be more important than Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, or even Buddha? 

"Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them,” Earl Woods said. “Because he's playing a sport that's international. Because he's qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles. He's the bridge between the East and the West. There is no limit because he has the guidance. I don't know yet exactly what form this will take. But he is the Chosen One. He'll have the power to impact nations. Not people. Nations. The world is just getting a taste of his power."

Nearly three decades later, we can say with some certainty that it did not play out that way. Tiger Woods was — as expected — great at golf. But he was not as influential or as popular as Jesus Christ, Muhammed, or even Albert Einstein, among others. Earl Woods wanted things for his son that the son did not actually want, and nearly every stage of his career has been a reminder of that subtle rejection.

What we can say about him, I think, definitively at this point, is that he is the most successful version of Florida Man who has ever lived. The hard launch of his new relationship with Vanessa Trump last week, punctuated by that bizarre picture in the hammock, was all the reminder we needed. 


It’s true that Tiger Woods was born and raised in California and that he was educated at Stanford (at least for a couple of years). Normally, those two facts would seemingly disqualify him from entering the Florida Man Hall of Fame. 

A true Florida Man, however, cannot be defined by his origins. 

In fact, it is a bonus when a Florida Man is not originally from Florida because it means he is a summation of his choices; he has adopted this life — this religion — instead of merely being born into it. 

So, what exactly defines a Florida Man? The criteria are fluid, but some things feel non-negotiable. You should own (or at minimum lease) a boat. You should have at least one ex-wife. Your back and your knees should hurt, at least a little. 

What happened, people might ask? Life happened, man. 

No one should be surprised if they see you wearing socks with sandals. You’ll wear sunglasses most of the time, which means you will squint in pictures when you’re not wearing them. Your hair should be a little thinner than you might like, but you can’t bear to say goodbye to it just yet. You grow an occasional goatee when you’re on leave from your job. Your friends should all have nicknames, like Strick or Steiny or J.T., and there should be at least one mugshot on your resume. 

You do your best to be a good dad, despite it all. 

A Florida Man’s dating history might admittedly be a little messy. The neighbors or other parents at youth sports events might gossip. But a true Florida Man knows that no one should be defined by their past. 

This, after all, is the land of reinvention, of forgiveness, of third and fourth chances. 

Tiger Woods did not want to be the most influential human to ever walk the earth. He wanted to kick ass at golf, and he did that. Will he be that person again? It’s unlikely, but who can say. 

For now, he seems content to pose for pictures with his new girlfriend in a hammock, then release them to the world while at the same time asking for privacy. 

This is the way of the Florida Man. He is not searching. He’s just living day to day. 

Florida Man At Rest

What’s the coldest temperature where you will still consider playing golf? This is a question I ask myself every February in Baltimore, and I still don’t have a great answer.

I suspect the answer is different depending on where you live, and how long your golf season lasts. I know people who reside in California and Florida who find the idea of playing golf in 50-degree weather to be insane. I don’t know a single person in Maryland who would balk at a tee time where it was 50 degrees.

I will go even further and tell you that I subscribe to the Stringer Bell Theory.

If we get a 40-degree day, that’s not even worth celebrating or complaining about.

Everything south of 40 degrees is where this debate gets interesting. I played my first round of 2025 a couple of weeks ago at Clifton Park Golf Course in Baltimore with my friends Colin and Devin, and I think the temperature when we walked to the first tee was 37 degrees.

Objectively, this is absurd. I know it is. A lot of courses won’t even let players out on the course at that temperature because you’re potentially creating issues for the grounds crew, snapping the grass when you walk — particularly the greens — instead of bending it. But Clifton is not a course that has a budget to pamper its golfers. If you want to tee it up, and there isn’t snow on the ground, you’re welcome to play.

Can’t put a peg in the ground because it’s still semi-frozen?

In the eyes of Baltimore City, that sounds like a YOU problem. Maybe put some work into hitting your 3 wood.

One thing I like about February golf, other than it represents the tail end of winter’s icy grip on my seasonal affective disorder (self-diagnosed), is how fun it is to play golf with low expectations and just enjoy the experience. It feels almost like you’re stealing, in a way.

You should listen to our recent podcast about the aspirational golf that some of us want to play this year. It’s a great episode and I have some lofty places I’d like to visit this year, too. But after thinking about it this winter, I also want to reconnect with the kind of golf with zero stakes and low expectations. Working on our series about public golf in America has reminded me of how many of us just want to walk around a big dumb field with friends (and beers) for four hours and not have to stress over all the other B.S.

I cracked a joke recently on a podcast about Clifton, mostly trying to make fun of my daughter — who has grown up playing most of her golf at a country club, and so she has a snob’s sensibility when it comes to conditioning — and I got a couple enraged DMs from Baltimore people telling me I should walk into traffic. (Online discourse remains a delight, doesn’t it?)

The truth is, I love Clifton and have been playing it regularly for the 25 years I’ve lived in Maryland. It feels a little like a quirky family member. I reserve the right to joke about it, but I would be pissed off if someone shit on it, so I understand why the comment seemed snobbish.

Is there noticeable trash and broken glass just off some of the fairways? Yes. It’s also $34 to walk and has a couple of holes that are among my favorites in Maryland. Whenever I dream about winning the Mega Millions, one of the first fantasies that comes to mind is dumping like $50 million into Baltimore’s municipal golf courses and keeping the greens fees under $40 while at the same time giving them the budget that Baltimore Country Club and Caves Valley get. But that also might destroy the ethos of the place.

If you haven’t played winter golf recently, I recommend giving it a spin. Yes, it hurts when you catch a shot on the hosel. When the wind blows, it can be borderline miserable. Some winter days, to paraphrase Rogers Hornsby, I stare out the window and wait for spring.

But some days, I can’t wait any longer, so I put on three layers and trundle through the frost.

On the first tee, my friend Colin reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand warmer. He handed it to me, and I don’t think I would have been happier had he handed me a thousand dollars.

With warm hands, I managed to push my tee a quarter inch into the ground, then somehow roasted my drive down the middle.

No idea what I ended up shooting that day; it didn’t matter.

Only one thing did — I was golfing again.

If you are one of those people who hates the dumb voices I do during our Major Deep Dives, I have an explanation for you: Blame Saturday Night Live for their existence.

If they occasionally make you laugh, you can thank SNL cast members like Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Phil Hartman and Will Ferrell, because they did a lot to shape the storytelling instincts of a teenage kid who grew up in Montana. I’ve said this a few times on our podcast, but it’s worth repeating: impressions aren’t supposed to sound exactly like the person you’re portraying. In fact, the closer they get to mimicry, the less interested I am. I think you try to embody the person’s spirit, not sound exactly like them. If you think they’re cringe … you might be right! Not all content is tailored to you.

I was thinking about some of this as I watched all three hours of SNL 50 this past week. The show has been, and I say this without much hesitation, one of the most important cultural influences on my life. I can’t pretend that I tune in every week anymore, but there was a time when it felt like it was the only show that mattered. They have a saying at 30 Rock that your favorite cast was probably the one that happened to be on the show while you were in high school, and I think that’s probably true. Carvey, Myers, Hartman, Adam Sandler and Chris Farley all seemed like gods to me when I was a teenager.

SNL 50 wasn’t perfect (no episode of SNL is, by design) but I still didn’t want it to end, despite its three-hour run time. Sandler’s song covering 50 years of the show’s history probably hit me the hardest because it encapsulated all the bits I probably lean into a bit too much — nostalgia, earnestness, inside jokes, cringe voices.

I loved every second. If you didn’t feel something during the moment when Sandler’s voice almost breaks as he sings about Farley and Norm McDonald, I’m not sure we’re occupying the same emotional planet.

On the surface, I was a jock growing up, but I was also a nerdy theater kid at heart, and every Monday, my friends would spend the better part of study hall breaking down what sketches worked and what characters bombed. A lot of the sketches were genuinely cringe, but I don’t think that mattered. My attachment to them is rooted in a time and place where I was still figuring out who I was and what I wanted to chase in life.

This was a show my parents had watched, and now it was a bridge that connected our generations. I don’t think my father and I have ever laughed harder — together — than we did during the recurring sketches about Toonces the Driving Cat.

It’s so simple, so stupid, and yet so funny.

One reason SNL has lasted 50 years — other than a lack of any competition on Saturday nights — is that it manages to reinvent itself for each generation. I don’t remember Gilda Radner, but I know how important she was to the show and my parents, so one of the most emotional moments of SNL 50 was when Jane Curtain and Laraine Newman held up her picture during the goodbyes.

The photo is a testament to a lot of the things I love, the idea that a community of artists from so many different backgrounds and generations can be connected, or tethered together, by their desire to make art. Here is Martin Short, Tom Hanks, Jimmy Fallon, and Jane Curtin together, and here is Laraine Newman (whose daughter is the hilarious Hannah Einbinder of Hacks fame), and they’re all trying to do the same cosmic, unexplainable thing. Norm Macdonald once wrestled with the fact that no matter what he did, most people would know him for his time on SNL. Eventually, he was at peace with that. “As long as the show lives, then so do I,” he wrote.

It doesn’t matter if art is dumb, or if a lot of it doesn’t hold up well. The pursuit of it is as fun as anything on earth. When I think about what I consider the best cast members, the true Hall of Famers, most of them are the ones who would sell out in pursuit of the joke without fear of embarrassment or cringe: Gilda, Dan Akroyd, Bill Murray, Eddie Murphy, Will Ferrell, Kristin Wiig, Kate McKinnon. I could name a dozen others.

My daughters almost never watch SNL when it airs, but they always love watching clips or reruns of it on Sunday. I’m always surprised at how invested they are in who is going to host or who the musical guest might be. And part of what makes the show continue to work is, as insular and masturbatory as it can be, they’re not shy about welcoming new icons into the mix to continue the reinvention. I saw a surge of criticism from The Olds online when Paul Simon opened the show with Sabrina Carpenter, the suggestion that the latest bubble-gum pop singer wasn’t worthy of such an honor. Simon, after all, had performed “Homeward Bound” with Geroge Harrison on the show back in 1976. Who was Carpenter compared to one of the Beatles?

I knew exactly why it was happening, however, and my suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when I received a text from my 15-year-old with a screenshot of Carpenter and Simon.

“Look dad. One singer for you, one for me.”

You can be cynical about it and believe Lorne Michaels is a craven opportunist (possible!) or you can decide that, regardless of motive, SNL passes the baton and welcomes creative newcomers into their circle as well as anything in culture. Emma Stone, Ariana Grande, Ryan Gosling and John Mulaney are, to my kids, what Steve Martin and Tom Hanks were to me as hosts.

Fifteen can be such a confusing age. The world is asking you to grow up rapidly and at the same time, demand you remain a kid too. I’ve found I love driving my kids places with their friends because if you put on some music, they eventually forget you even exist. You might as well be an Uber driver. They start talking at a rapid-fire pace in their own language, and if you just shut up and listen, you can gain all kinds of worldly insights.

The other day, my daughter and her friends (five teenage girls) were discussing the levels of interest certain boys had in them, and the interest (or lack of) they had in return. I learned that certain boys could be categorized as “huz” material, while others might be more of a “Hear me out.”

One of the girls mentioned a boy who was particularly cringe, a bit of a try hard, and I immediately felt a twinge of sympathy for this boy. But then my daughter’s best friend, Emerson, dropped a nugget of life wisdom that was so profound, it made me chuckle.

(You would be shocked, if you’re not a parent to teenage girls, how often they begin or end every sentence with the word BRO.)

Thank you for helping those of us who are a little cringe attempt to live free for the last 50 years.

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 30 (KVV)

, we were coming off of Randy’s wedding weekend, digging in on year-end handicap indices, I was still steadfastly opposed to the Eagles being a legitimate contender, Buck Tech was coming off a Michigan loss, and I hadn’t yet done my time in the Waffle House. Obviously, a lot’s happened since then.

Going to cast aside the delineation between “GHIN” and “Tonic” in this one and work through it all in one spot.

All of my golf in 2025 thus far has taken place in Argentina, which made for a magical trip with Wolfie, Ben and Cody. It was the most fascinating place I’ve ever been (with the caveat that I haven’t done Japan, yet) and I cannot wait to return. We hopped on to record a recap pod last week that will be released in concert with the larger video. Also working to get an accompanying written piece out with it, too.

On the golf front, it’s always a thrill to play a MacKenzie course for the first time, and Jockey Club yielded a unique look at the Good Doctor’s brilliance. All of the MacKenzie layouts I’ve played to this point have been on good to great sites with varying topography and drastic features. To see the way he approached a dead-flat site and blended engineering, drainage and strategic architecture into a 36-hole complex (and in only a few weeks on-site) was edifying and made me appreciate his work on a more technical level. And don’t get me wrong, the glowing brain shit that nobody else in the history of golf course design has even attempted was present, too. It’s all thrown me back down the MacKenzie wormhole reading everything I can about his work. Can’t wait to share the finished content with you, as that course wasn’t even my favorite of the trip!

Beyond the golf, the asado culture, the combination of aperitifs and soda, and the empanadas are “in” for me this year and beyond. I can’t wait to get back down there. And trees in the Southern Hemisphere continue to be provocative. Here’s a sampling from the trip:

Moving along, this year’s trip to Pebble Beach was wonderful. The outbound trip included a few hours sitting backward in one of United’s decrepit pre-merger 777s with the old business-class cabin, which is always weirdly delightful. This was my fourth trip to Pebble in the last couple of years, but the first without golf clubs. There wasn't a window between our annual team off-site at the beginning of the week, live shows on Wednesday/Thursday, and football and basketball games to get home for on Saturday morning. The off-site has turned into something I really look forward to each year and an increasingly valuable setting with the whole (growing) team in one place and setting the tone. Having our newest addition, Matt Mramer, jump in headfirst with the team in an eclectic setting yielded immediate dividends between his creativity, positivity and his eye for 

In hindsight, any golf I played on the trip would’ve been hampered by the volume of soup I had onboard at any one time. A couple of visits to a Monterey pho spot, a spicy tortilla deal at The Hay clubhouse, half a dozen different selections in corporate hospitality, a couple of airport soups (SFO always delivers on that front) and the liquid tasting menu extravaganza in the Tap Room added up to a pretty high floor, a lot of broth, and a layer of protection against the California cold that gets in the bones. The French Onion at the Tap Room won the week in the soup category by a pretty comfortable margin, by the way.

The real winner of the week across all categories was 

, a bakery in downtown Monterey that we visited twice and to which I would travel a significant distance for the sole purpose of visiting again. The selection of pastries and other baked creations on offer was deep and welcoming, to the point that you simultaneously want to order more than is reasonable and subconsciously start planning future visits to work your way through the entire catalog. The spiced apple tart that I ordered on the second visit was downright enchanting. On the umami side of the spectrum, I chose the smoked salmon sandwich on my first visit, and then again on the return trip. In the face of astonishing variety and delicious flavors, I STILL chose to get that sandwich again. The handheld featured meticulously cured salmon, rich cream cheese, pickled fennel, onions, dill sprigs, a mountain of capers and probably a few mystery ingredients enveloped by a sourdough that elevated the sandwich and connected the flavors. A few in our crew sampled the daily special breakfast sandwich, the description of which was thrilling just to read. We sat in the small space, indulging in our selections and captivated by the half-dozen or so bakers working on that day’s loaves behind a massive gallery window. Craftsmanship, but without the pretense you’d typically encounter at a place like this (there’s a place called 

 in the Alamo Square neighborhood of San Francisco that is so performative that I’m convinced it’s a bit.) Grateful to the gentleman who slid into the DMs on Instagram to recommend Ad Astra after he’d seen on my story that I’d enjoyed Captain + Stoker, a well-regarded local coffee shop down the street that Monday. Sharing is caring.

After returning home on a redeye, it was football and basketball games, baseball tryouts, some fun with an old favorite club, fun foods with the boys, and hanging with Julius Peppers.

I haven’t cooked much since the holidays, which is disappointing. We did quite a bit of entertaining through the holidays, and it felt good just to veg out and eat a bunch of takeaway and then get down to Argentina and eat my weight in beef. Need to get in gear the next 4-6 weeks before the big trips ramp back up. And I haven’t really been drinking much wine, either. These were the selections around Christmas festivities:

Finding out that there are an increasing number of Starbucks locations out there (like the one below at IAH) that do not allow in-person ordering haunts me. It's a pretty dystopian reality that you have to download an app to order something instead of just walking up to a counter and politely interacting with a human being. I hate it so much.

The NFL coaching cycle is among my favorite things to monitor: a potent blend of ego, scheme, hype, patience/impatience, incompetence and lack of imagination. This cycle was relatively predictable, the Brian Schottenheimer hire in Dallas notwithstanding, and I'm pleased with Liam Coen landing with the Jaguars since his signing was predicated upon the team firing the ultimate survivor, GM Trent Baalke. His coordinator hires have been spectacular thus far, and I like the candidates being interviewed for GM. Onward and upward!  

I'll have much more to say on my Eagles winning it all and other ruminations from the season on next week's episode of The BallKnowers. 

Mentioned it to Randy a few weeks ago, and will reiterate here: The best bursts of simple majesty in your feed.

 Casey Bannon’s wife, Isabel, started importing Swedish candies to the States and is now selling them. Thoughtful packaging, sweets that rise above anything available here in the States, and approved by my mother-in-law, who has discerning Swedish tastes and a very specific memory of Swedish candies from growing up. 

D.J., KVV and I spent some time in Chicago this week to plan out a few projects we're working on. I was able to get a taste of winter, clear out my sinuses (it's been unseasonably warm in Florida the past couple weeks and allergies have been a thing), and squeezed in some great meals, one of which I'll call out: 

. We booked it having heard mixed reviews and really didn't have expectations, which is the best place to be. D.J. and I are both fans of the show Top Chef, and this is the debut restaurant of one of our favorites, Chef Joe Flamm, who won Season 15. The concept is a blend of Croatian and a very specific region of Northeastern Italy, with a bunch of unexpected flavors, interesting spins on pasta and risotto, some refreshing seafood flourishes and a wine list loaded with surprises and value. Any concerns that it was going to be a general idea of "Adriatic/diet-Greek" cuisine vanished as soon as the first few dishes came out. And it's the perfect cuisine for smaller, family-style dishes and indulging curiosity and unknown ingredients - there's no risk in trying something new when you can try a dozen different items and not have your entire experience riding on a $50 entree. Highly recommend. The "Pastinaca" risotto dish defied classification or my ability to properly describe it (ingredients: caramelized parsnips, taleggio fonduta, balsamic.) Among other spots, we also hit Pequods for pizza and Tortello for pasta on the way out. 

Looking ahead: we’ve already locked down Silver and will make Gold in the next couple weeks for 2026 with United. Deep into planning. Trying to cut clutter and figure out what I WANT to do this year and leave room for wow. An Argentina write-up, the aforementioned #BallKnowers episode dropping early next week and some vacation for yours truly. Crack on! -TC

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 29 (TC)

Happy New Year, NLU fam. Thanks for being here to listen to, watch, and read all the #content. Here’s to an even better 2025!

I'm kicking it off with a true GHIN tidbit. Here in Las Vegas, we post all year long, so I got a few more rounds before heading back east for New Year’s festivities. I hoped to tie my lowest-ever handicap of 16.7 at least, but I had to settle for 16.8 to end the year. Operation “Get to at least 13 by 2027” continues!

Since moving here in mid-March, I’ve played 22 different Las Vegas area courses. There are about 55 or so within a 20-mile radius of the city center, so I feel like I did a good job getting around to most of the better public courses and a few privates. I visited one other Las Vegas “public” course a few times this year, not to play but to spectate: Shadow Creek.

Shadow Creek is the USA's most expensive “public” access course at $1250 for your tee time. I use public in quotes because it’s only available for MGM Resort guests who are big-spenders/high-rollers. I live about 15 minutes from the course, and while I haven’t been able to play it, I have taken advantage of going to see the LPGA Match Play tournament in the last two years.

The course is totally insane. Tom Fazio took a flat blank slate of desert and moved all kinds of earth to build rolling hills, waterfalls, lakes, and creeks to the tune of $60 million. It weirdly makes perfect sense in Las Vegas, the city with replicas of Paris, New York, and ancient Rome on the strip. Here’s a golf course that looks plucked from a mountainside in the southeast and dropped down in this perfect rectangle in North Las Vegas, across from warehouses!

It’s fun to walk around that course and marvel at the number of trees and plants that had to be planted to make it look like it’s been there forever. So, when The Showdown was announced, I thought it would be fun to walk it again.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from an in-person viewing of one of these made-for-TV golf matches: Who would be there watching? How many people would actually be there? Would it be easy to follow around from hole to hole? What happens when it gets really dark? The practice round day had Scottie getting a bit chippy with Bryson – would there be any fireworks between them during the actual competition?

We arrived just after 2 p.m. for the 3:15 p.m. tee-off. (Important context: I had a clubhouse hospitality pass, so my experience differed slightly from the general public's.) We rode the shuttle to the clubhouse with guys wearing Bryson’s Crushers' skull-and-crossbones logos on their hats. After going through security, we entered the clubhouse to a crowd of people, arms full of Crypto.com Showdown merch. There was catering by the Bellagio in the main room before you exited through a tunnel to an outdoor viewing tent.

Hello, large Brooks, Bryson, Rory, & Scottie

The viewing tent was decked out with large screens, branded Crypto.com The Showdown everything, and a gifting station for the merch everyone had in the clubhouse. In the middle of it all, there was a circular bar. Outside, there was a viewing platform overlooking the 18th green. I joked to my husband, Jon, “Will they even get to this hole at the end?”

There is no need to discuss the Xs and Os of the actual competition. Instead, I will share a few observations from our afternoon out there.

There were way more people out there than I anticipated. Rory, Scottie, Bryson, and Brooks had already moved off the range to the putting green. The ropes around it were mobbed; you couldn’t get down to the first tee. We quickly realized that we wouldn’t be able to walk along and see the match.

There was more LIV merch out there than I had ever seen in one place before, and most of it looked brand new. It made me think that a LIV street team was out there passing stuff out. There were so many SMASH hats.

Bryson’s ridiculous Lambeau Field-esque parka. It was mid-60s and full sun, which always feels warmer than the number in Vegas. As the afternoon progressed, it did get a bit cooler, but never so cold that I put on my beanie or felt chilly in my hoodie and vest, and I get cold pretty quickly! I do feel like the TV broadcast made it look colder than it was, showing their cart heaters and the guys blowing into their hands to keep warm like it was almost freezing temps. It never went below 50!

As it got darker, we realized that they wouldn’t let people walk to all parts of the course. For example, the 1st match was done after the 4th hole, when Rory buried that long eagle putt. We were almost to 5 green when that happened (we were always walking ahead after seeing tee shots or putts to get ahead of the crowd for a good spot to watch something coming up). When we realized they weren’t playing 5-6, we tried to get up to 7/8/9 but were told we had to turn around, and the next hole we could watch would be 10. Look, I get it. Shadow Creek is super hilly. When it’s dark, it’s really dark. People were drinking. I get that you don’t want people tripping, falling, etc.…

When we were allowed to walk around, it was pretty cool to wander the course in the dark. We had a great view of the last bit of the sun setting while sitting on a hill above 10 green.

After 10, the next best place to watch was 12 green and we were right up on the ropes near the hole. We followed along on our phones to make sure the match was going to actually GET to the 12th hole, which, thankfully, it did. After watching the tee shots, the group of us up near the hole speculated that Rory’s approach shot could be a bit dicey - it was a blind approach, and if he overshot the hole we could possibly get hit with the ball. We couldn’t really see when it left the club, since he was down way below and behind the bunker from our angle. All the sudden, a ball landed in the small strip of grass between the green and the ropes across from us and I laughed. It was a relief laugh like, “oh yay! No one got hit!” Immediately, Jon started getting texts from people who were like, “Are you at this match, I swear I just heard Casey’s laugh on the broadcast.”

After 12, we weren’t able to get to 13—too many people were already down at the tee—so we were directed back towards the clubhouse again. So we wandered back down the middle of the 10th fairway and peeked through the trees across a canyon to see the 13th green. It was like people just broke contain and went anywhere they could to see something.

We walked backward from 18 to catch the group at 14, then skipped 15/16 to get a good spot to watch 17, the signature hole at Shadow Creek with the Fazio waterfall and all. It was here that we struck up a conversation with a guy in a cowboy hat who had been in our orbit all afternoon. The guy ended up being a friend of Brooks who was the officiant at the Koepka’s wedding. We also laughed with the security team there, who had to keep chasing people off the actual 17 green. Once the match got to 16, they had us all move up to the tee box, but then the match literally ended, and the group never got to play 17. This seemed like a miss to me - they should have had some kind of plan to play the signature hole at the course.

Several notables were out and about at the event, including JR Smith, Dexter Fowler, Rick Shiels, and Andre Iguodala. But the person I was most excited to see was Sir Charles! After the broadcast, he went directly to the hospitality tent bar and held court for about 30 minutes.

One more GHIN-related item for this edition is the new golf entertainment venue, Swingers, which just opened in Vegas.

It’s self-described as a club that takes “crazy golf from the 1920s British seaside—Tanqueray-infused plus-fours and all——add Vegas' best street food, banging beats, and brings it to the iconic Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino.” I was able to check it out during their grand opening party earlier in December.

They retrofitted this into the space that used to be occupied by Light nightclub. It is decked out like a British countryside estate, with an overwhelming amount of artificial flowers (and piped-in floral aromas as well). There are several 9-hole “crazy” golf courses to play and also a big area of traditional boardwalk/carnival games.

This night, being the grand opening, was a bit over the top. Atmosphere models were dancing, a woman in a gown playing electric violin over the DJ’d music, a bunch of Las Vegas social media influencers out and about, and free food, drink, and gameplay.

The courses all share similar layouts, and, IMO, were actually “boring” holes. Almost all were “hit the ball up this ramp into one of these channels that goes to the right. If you hit it down the gold chute, you have a good chance at a hole-in-one. Only a few holes had any kind of actual obstacle, like a Ferris wheel to hit through. They were all very pretty, but ultimately, I was not really that into it. Have I outgrown mini golf?

This location's “street food” is pizza and burgers from Brooklyn’s Emmy Squared. I didn’t realize how many locations they’ve expanded to in the eight years since opening in NY (26!!). I'm not sure why they are considered street food, but the cheesy breadsticks I grabbed from the people walking around passing them out on trays were tasty.

What I actually loved here was the Carnival area. Skee ball! Water gun race! Pop-a-shot! Even a beer pong game. Like Dave & Busters, you get a card, load it with credits, and go to town. You even earn “tickets” you can trade in for little prizes like Swingers golf towels or teddy bears. I ate cotton candy and played almost every game available.

So what does it cost to play? $30 for nine holes!! Drinks range from $10 for a Modelo to $22 for a house cocktail to $50 for a high roller drink. Of course, packages are available for a small discount, including your round and some drink tickets.

I am unsure if I need to go back and play “crazy golf” again. It’s not that crazy, and it’s expensive. In contrast, Pop Stroke, Tiger Wood’s mini golf complex that opened earlier this summer in Vegas, has two 18-hole courses and costs $40 for an entire day of play. Swingers is 1) inside and 2) a 21+ venue, so it may be better for groups planning things like bachelor/bachelorette parties.

One of my favorite things about living in Las Vegas is the outdoor activities available. Many parks and hiking areas are just a short drive from the city. When my mom visited for Thanksgiving, we took advantage of the mild weather to hike at Mt. Charleston and the Valley of Fire.

Mt. Charleston is the tallest mountain in Clark County and the Spring Mountains National Recreation Area. Almost 12K feet above sea level, the peak is snow-covered about half the year. It’s about 35 minutes northwest of where I live, and about 30 degrees colder than the valley.

As you climb up the road from the valley, the climate and scenery change drastically from Joshua Tree yuccas and brown sand of the desert to rocky canyons and thousands of bristlecone pine trees. The temperature drops, and you feel like a world away from the strip.

We stopped at the US Forest Service visitor center and did an easy out-and-back hike along Kyle Canyon.

A few days later, we set out northeast to the Valley of Fire State Park, about 45 minutes from the house. It’s an entirely different experience from Mt. Charleston—tons of desert and red rock and all desert vegetation.

We were a bit more ambitious that day and headed to the top of the park to do the White Domes Loop Trail. It’s only a 1-mile loop, but on soft sand with stretches of steepness. It was worth getting through the first third of the hike down the steep rocks. When you get to the narrow slot canyon, you get to walk through it. I didn’t realize how steep it was until we got to the bottom and looked back up!

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 28 (Casey)

It's the last What's Burning at the Killhouse of 2024, but we're still keeping it just as random as always. We've slotted plenty of room in here for stick-your-neck-out worthy predictions for 2025 — but there was a variety of experiences and fun to reflect on from 2024. Time to dive in.

Let’s start with golf. What was a course you played for the first time this year that was memorable, either because it was good or because it was bad?

- I played 45 total courses this year, about half for the first time. So, needless to say, a lot of different directions we can go with this one. The obvious choice is probably the Old Course Reversed, but I’ve written and spoken a lot on that. But in terms of not being able to stop thinking about a course and continually yearning to return, it’s Royal Adelaide. I adored the layout, the atmosphere, and the entire experience. It’s the sort of course that makes you consider (even just for a brief second) moving to the opposite side of the world so I could play this golf course every single day. 

 Irvine Bogside (Weird!!! Wonderful! Affordable!), Prestwick, Dunbar, Western Gailes, Lido, Brambles, Shorty’s, and Colorado Golf Club are other notable first loops from ‘24 that I think about often.

 - Many different ways we could go with this, but I’m gonna say Ocean Dunes on King Island. I hadn’t heard the best things about the course and had low expectations going in, but had such a freaking blast playing that place. Some of the best views of any golf course I’d ever played, and it had so many high points. There was definitely an added element of being about as far away from home as physically possible, and having the course to ourselves which made it much more special. The ocean holes were ridiculous, and the inland holes were thought-provoking and inspiring. Man that place rules.

 – The one I keep thinking about is Sedge Valley, the newest course at Sand Valley Resort here in Wisconsin. Sedge is a par 68 that only played about 5,200 yards from the tees we played, but every single hole presented such a fun challenge and kept a smile of joy or frustration on your face the entire day. One funny thing about most “strategic” golf courses is that most resort players (myself included much of the time) aren’t good enough to keep their drives in play and get the full effect of dynamic second shots on every hole. At Sedge, the whole scale is shrunken down, allowing bad players to feel like they have a fighting chance on every hole, while great players can’t help but try to hit heroic shots all day (and suffer mixed results). I can’t wait to play it again.

I’m not a top 100 chaser, but I had a good year on this front: Cypress, Fishers, RM West, Cal Club, and San Francisco Golf Club. All of them were fantastic, but my most memorable round was a Friday afternoon loop with friends back in July at the recently renovated Golden Gate Par 3 in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. This 9-hole course out by Ocen Beach was in AWFUL shape when I lived in San Francisco. It’s now an interesting short course with tee shots ranging from 60 yards to 180 yards in the middle of one of my favorite cities. I was blown away by the thoughtful design and routing on a small plot of land, and I’d recommend anyone visiting San Francisco make a field trip out to Golden Gate Park to see it.

 - How is it possible that Tourist Sauce was just this year? Legitimately, every single track we played for that series is memorable. I still dream of Royal Adelaide and Royal Melbourne–what a delight those were, in every sense. But it was the course I played for fun on the back end of the trip that is the most memorable for me. Tara Iti, north of Auckland, New Zealand, is my pick. I played it on an absolute bluebird day, with winds that were pretty tame. Not only is it one of (the most?) beautiful settings I’ve had the pleasure to play golf in, but the good mood carried over to my game that day too. Vibes were high as I broke 80. As for the course, I found it interesting, stimulating, and ultimately very fair–not things I say after playing each and every Tom Doak design. There’s a reason it’s one of the best courses in the world and I feel like I got to play it on a day that couldn’t have been any better.

This is always the hardest question for me to answer because I get to “see” but not “play” a bunch of really cool golf courses. We travel the world for golf and most of the time I do it behind the lens of a camera. But this year, I ventured off on my own quite a bit and experienced some once-in-a-lifetime spots. NGLA, Shinny, and Southampton are all in the running. But they are all great and I hate splitting hairs. I could nitpick North Berwick vs Dunbar, but someone else will do that. The Schuster Brothers and I got to play Cypress during a perfect weather day in February. But for me, it was The Old Course with Big. I carried great shame for a long time because I have been to St Andrews multiple times, but I have never played golf. That changed this year during the AIG Women's Open week. I walked the golf course while calling Open Radio all four days of the competition. You end up in spots most rarely do because they are just slightly off of regular target lines (mostly 45 degrees off a player and preferably downwind, so your voice doesn't travel as far). You spend a lot of time ahead of the group you are calling, so most shots are coming towards you and not away. Every course I walk, I try to do my best to look at it backward or from green to tee. But calling live radio forces you to do it. It also revealed a lot about the Old Course that most people do not understand their first time through. There is a dream list of partners that I would have loved to share the experience with, and Big is always at the top. There is no better partner to make you stay in the moment, realize how fortunate we are to be there, and take some extra moments to let it all sink in. It is an experience that I will always cherish and a memory I will never forget.

 - How can I pick just one? I was lucky to play many new-to-me courses this year, including my first overseas ones. I am going to have to go with Carne. It was the one I had been thinking about the most leading up to playing, and it lived up to the hype. The scale of that place cannot be overstated. The drive up from Westport was gorgeous. The wind was not blowing a zillion KPH. The Guinness at the end of the round was phenomenal. Just a perfect day of golf on the edge of western Ireland!

 - Colorado Golf Club. A modern (read: wide) course with parkland vibes and firm conditions is just about perfection for me. A true nature walk with intrigue on every swing. It answered the question “what would you do if you had all the money” for me. I am buying 600 acres in the foothills of the Rockies and hiring Bill and Ben to build me CGC 2.0.

 — Dunbar. It just nudges out North Berwick and Prestwick, perhaps in part because it’s a bit more off the beaten path. I got to play it on one of the nicest days of the year in East Lothian, and there was barely a breath of wind. I loved the routing, how it hugs the old wall on the way out, then weaves toward the sea and back like a figure eight. Just a delightful walk with tons of fun shots and no pretension.

A number of stars — Viktor Hovland, Jordan Spieth, Will Zalatoris, Patrick Reed, Allisen Corpuz, Minjee Lee, Leona Maguire — had disappointing years in 2024. Who are you hoping, or predicting, will bounce back in 2025? (You don’t have to pick someone on this list.)

- It’s Zalatoris for me. He’s really really good, he might just lack the most important ability…availability. He’s an authentic, well-adjusted dude, and American pro golf gets more interesting if he’s involved, especially in a Ryder Cup year, even if just for making picks more difficult for Keegan. He strung together some positive results toward the end of the tour season, so hoping he can carry it forward. Obviously, my colleagues are going to go with Linksmaster Jord, which, listen, I hope so, for my sanity and for Greller’s sake.

 – My portfolio is full of so much Spieth stock that I desperately need a 2025 bounceback if I ever hope to retire.

 From the list above, Hovland is the most likely to bounce back. He has the talent, youth, and a singular focus on golf that bodes well for digging himself out of a rut. I’d highly recommend 

 to KVV’s excellent profile if you haven’t already. Though he isn’t listed, I hope JT also has a bounce-back this year. 2024 was a disappointment, but when you look at his 

, it’s hard to imagine him fading into mediocrity at 31.

- I sure am hoping Jordan Spieth gets one!

Spieth, Vik - sure. Cam Young……come on man. Looking for more from Maja and Linn.

 - I would love to see Vik turn it around. I have always enjoyed watching him, and I appreciate his whole vibe. It would be nice to see him in contention more next year, so I selfishly get to see more of him on my TV in whatever crazy outfits J.Lindeberg has him wearing.

 - Maja Stark had some flashes but nothing exceptional. I am hoping she wins a major next year.

 — This might be wishcasting, but I’m going with Spieth. I think the wrist has been causing more problems than he ever let on, and now that it’s fixed, he’ll get back his special sauce, hitting great iron shots. It’s stunning that he was 15th in Strokes Gained Off The Tee last year, but 138th in Strokes Gained Approach. Clearly he’s figured out something that works with the driver. If he can just recapture his elite iron play, he’ll be a Top 20 player again.

 - I refuse to be held hostage by nostalgia…what’s Danielle Kang up to these days? She’s kinda on the ropes with her status – she finished 144th in the CME rankings this year. I’d be very intrigued by a comeback era.

Every season from 2015 to 2024, we’ve had at least one player win their first major. Who will become a first-time major winner in 2025?

- Thomas Paul Fleetwood, likely at Portrush. TBD if the PGA is going to be a true major or just a Designated Elevated Signature© event.

 – It’s the holidays. What the hell? Tommy Fleetwood.

I’m going to go with Viktor Hovland. I’m buying the dip after everyone lost their shirts predicting he’d win one in 2024.

 - I am going to take the layup here and predict Jeeno Thitikul wins her first major this year. And it could be the first one of the year, at Chevron.

 — It feels too easy to pick Ludvig Åberg, so I’m going with Patrick Cantlay to win the U.S. Open at Oakmont.

 – The 2024 rookie of the year. I like Nick Dunlap at Oakmont!

What was your enjoyable or interesting meal of 2024? It can be a restaurant you visited, a meal you made at home, or a meal someone made for you.

 - In the midst of being with people non-stop for a few weeks straight between a family vacation and then Scotland, I had a quiet mid-afternoon meal at a place on the east side of the Isle of Arran that looks like a roadside seafood shack from the outside, but is so much more than that. I sat at the Mara Fish Bar and ate half the menu over the course of a few hours while I sat on a stool on the front porch and gazed out at the Firth of Clyde a few feet away across the street. Oysters, scallops, mussels, mackerel, local chanterelles, all leading to the crescendo of a local lobster risotto. Some of my most cherished memories are meals with others, but sometimes it’s really nice to be alone with your thoughts, world-class food and unfussy food made with love and reflective of a very specific place in the world. 

 - Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa. Had heard about it a ton, but wondered how unique could a steakhouse experience truly be. Well, the food was obviously incredible, great service, drinks, great company….but the tour of the wine cellar was truly next level. I believe they have about a half a million bottles of wine (not a joke!), including some from the mid-1800s. It’s just row after row after row after row of bottles, stacked to the ceiling. I’ve never seen anything like it. And then from dinner, you graduate to the dessert room, which is like an entire additional restaurant with private booths for after-dinner cocktails and ridiculously good sweets. Wife and I almost made a special trip down there for a babymoon in July, and can’t wait to go back.

 – There’s a place near our house called Lake Park Bistro. It’s a fancy, white table cloth, classic French restaurant that’s located inside Lake Park and overlooking Lake Michigan. It’s an institution, but it’s very tired looking from the outside – I’ve walked past it roughly 600 times since moving here and have always thought it looks like going to someone else’s Grandma’s house for dinner. But when some neighbors of ours very kindly gave us a gift card for the place, Justine and I made plans for LPB to be our first proper dinner out since having Charlie. Maybe it was the thrill of being out of the house like adults (maybe it was the Old Fashioneds), but dammit if it didn’t deliver. I had a filet au poivre that made me sincerely happy and a mushroom soup that I asked the waiter if we could buy by the quart and freeze just to have at the house. Top 2 or 3 soup I’ve ever had in my life.

I’m a massive fan of a good hotel breakfast spread. The kind where you sit down, place an order for a nice coffee with the waiter, then immediately get up with a plate and choose your own adventure at a breakfast buffet. During our trip to Portugal and Spain in September, Carson and I stayed at the Sublime Comporta resort, and they had the best breakfast spread I’ve ever seen. All three mornings, it was a 2-hour experience with 3-4 courses. I’d start with the fruit and yougurt and granola, with a little homemade and freshly squeezed “juice of the day.” Then, I would explore the meats, smoked fish, cheeses, jams, and different homemade bakery items. Finally, I would request a simple omelet with ham, green peppers, and cheese, and explore the daily offering at the hot bar before grabbing one more chocolate croissant on my way out.

 - My answer goes back to my trip to New Zealand last winter. My wife’s cousin took a group of us out on his boat to a little place called Rakino Island in the waters near Auckland. They call it ‘Pizza Island’ because on this island, which has maybe a dozen or so full-time inhabitants is a little pizzeria called Woody Bay Pizzeria. It’s a man and his son who cook made-to-order pizzas in a wood-fired oven. The pizza was excellent, as was being able to eat it in a swimsuit and flip-flops after we splashed around in the water at the beach. The most memorable meal. If you’re ever in Auckland with access to boat, check it out!

The meal we cooked as a team on King Island. From the cheese board to salads and sides, open fire cooking meat and fresh seafood. We each had our roles. But sharing that meal after a long day of work at one of the most beautiful places in the world is something I will never forget. Great food, even better people.

- I love pizza so I was so elated to have dinner at 

 the night before the NIT in Phoenix with Neil, Ben, Cody, Jordan, Lauren and John Pond, and my husband, Jon. No reservations are taken so we got there and took advantage of Bar Bianco (literally in a house next door) for a few rounds of drinks. When it was time to eat, we had a big table outside to enjoy the warm fall evening. We ordered one of every pizza on the menu and all the salads. There was not one thing to dislike about any of it. The pizza was perfect, the company even better.

 - This is an easy one. My beautiful mother turned 60 this year. We hired a local chef (and one of our friends) to develop and cook a 5-course tasting menu at our home. The food was centered around classic dishes with an Indian flare. It was an unbelievable experience watching a true pro cook in my kitchen and create extraordinary dishes - though it was humbling to realize the level of food that can be prepared with my own pots and pans far surpassed anything I have done. If you are ever in Kansas City, you have to go check out Of Course and Chef Swetha.

 — There is a restaurant in Baltimore, Magdalena, inside the Ivy Hotel, that doesn’t get nearly the attention that some of the fancier restaurants do, but my wife and I had an exceptional meal there this July for her birthday. The food, drinks, the service, the sommelier, the atmosphere — all of it was incredible. I remember oysters, beet salad, duck confit, short ribs, some incredible desserts. My city is an underrated food town, and I have no shortage of places to recommend when people reach out, but Magdalena is one of the places I send the real ones.

 – The least sophisticated answer is slotted for last. There’s a two-way tie. I’ll start with Jim’s Smokehouse BBQ in Austin, TX, which is a banger of a food truck that sells BBQ meats by the pound. Their black angus brisket is to die for…and mixed with the mac and cheese…I’ve ascended. I also have no idea how that good of a key lime pie found its way to a food truck in Texas, but it did, and the strawberry sauce is the perfect touch.

This is tied with Raising Cane’s, which has officially become my favorite fast-food chicken establishment.

We travel a lot for work. What is something that frustrates you about traveling that you would change if you were given magic powers to do so?

- I’ve built entire columns and podcast episodes around this, so there’s a lot to pull from. But often I’m talking specifics, and what gets washed away in that is how far behind the rest of the world the United States is in airport infrastructure and investment (and without reasonable alternatives like trains). There’s a lot of shitty airports in Canada and the UK, but on the whole, I’m impressed whenever I travel abroad - the terminals make more sense, they’re better staffed, and they’re actually preparing for the future and not just trying to catch up to the present. Just generally less bullshit.

 - How hard it can be to get in and out of Jax efficiently, and how isolated I can feel in the southeast. I was spoiled living in Amsterdam and being able to get to the airport in no time and hop to another country in a heartbeat. The only downside of living in Jax (aside from the summers) is the lack of ability to get to many places (especially internationally) without connecting.

 – The inefficiency (and high cost) of train travel in most of the United States. I can’t tell you how much I’m dying to travel around even just the Midwest by train and how disappointed I am every time I look into actually doing this.

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 2024 Round-Up

An update on real GHIN, as the USGA pushed out the GHIN Rewind this week and mine contained some surprises. We’ll dig deeper this week on the podcast, but I’ll get it started here. 

 I will likely end the year at a 2.1, the exact same spot I started. The 61 rounds is light.

No Laying Up

Writing

Dear Dad

1000 Episodes Later

Florida Man At Rest

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 30 (KVV)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 29 (TC)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 28 (Casey)

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 2024 Round-Up

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 27 (TC)

NLU 2024: What We’re Thankful For

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 26 (TC)

The State of the Nest 2024

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 25 (D.J.)

2024 Nest Invitational Tournament: Reinben Reigns Supreme

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 24 (TC)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 23 (Neil)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 22 (KVV)

Connor Belcastro: The Q-School Diary

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 21 (TC)