It is often our job at No Laying Up to be skeptics (even cynics) when we think about the landscape of golf.


We strive to remain, despite the steady growth of our company over the last decade, grounded by the idea that we ought to represent the voice of the fan, the avid community of golfers around the world that is mostly just asking to be informed or entertained each week. It can be easy to grow disillusioned or frustrated with aspects of the game, whether television coverage, the massive commercial load, slow play, or the endless bickering over money, and we feel like it’s important to give oxygen to those frustrations, particularly when we share them.

We may not always get it right in your eyes, but we promise you this: Our feelings are never anything but genuine.


With that in mind, on this Thanksgiving, we’d like to (temporarily) remove our skeptic’s hat and talk about a few things we are thankful for in this sometimes messy, often-fractured, frequently confusing world of golf.


It’s important to give thanks and to be grateful for the stuff you believe in.


, which are both the skeleton and the soul of the game. These are not to be confused with accessible but expensive tracks like Pinehurst, or Bandon Dunes, or Kapalua. A bucket list trip is a gift and a membership at an exclusive club might be a goal, but there is something irreplaceable about a Sunday morning tee time at a local muni with a group of friends.

You might change your shoes in the parking lot. You might warm up by hitting balls off a threadbare mat. You might see someone mark their ball with a beer can. None of it matters if you’re lucky enough to get that first tee time when you can still see the dew on the grass and the ball disappearing (then reappearing) in the early morning light.

Every golfer, no matter how wealthy or successful they become, ought to have a favorite muni they return to from time to time, one where the superintendent punches above his weight, where the hot dogs at the turn are better than they deserve to be, and quirks of layout test your patience but feel as familiar as the lyrics of an old song.

You know that bunker, the one on the wrong side of a dogleg with its ragged edges and concrete sand? Every muni has one. She’s infuriating, but … we’ve been through some stuff together. Job changes, a marriage (or two), a couple kids, a sore knee, that magical round when we flirted with a score that didn’t seem possible. We used to hate that bunker. Maybe we still do. But at this point, we can’t help but love it too.

, for borders and oceans we sometimes cross just to put our peg in the ground and stare down that first fairway.

Maybe you’ll never get to play Tara Iti in New Zealand and hear the waves crash on the beach as you line up a putt. Maybe you’ll never gaze out into the dunes of Nebraska, and marvel at the ripples that nature made before Bill Coore and Ben Crenshaw went looking for 18 holes in an ocean of sand.

But every course — even one on the other side of town — is a mystery until you explore it for the first time. It doesn’t need to change your life. But it might draw you in like a magnet, and give you an excuse to visit a dot on the map you’d otherwise ignore.


If the weather is merciful where you live, go find a course you’ve never played before the calendar flips. It might be forgettable. But it also might surprise you.

Speaking of surprises, we are thankful for 

He wasn’t a surprise to us, the way he was to many. But what started as a joke — a funny, off-handed defense of the future of the European Ryder Cup teams during the beat down at Whistling Straits — turned into an answered prayer. Åberg hasn’t played in a single major, and already he’s become one of the brightest lights in the game today.


Will Åberg be the next Tiger Woods or even the next Rory McIlroy? Probably not. The odds are obviously against him, as they are with any young golfer. Even voicing those expectations may serve as fuel for the machine that eventually grinds him down. But none of that matters at this moment. What matters now is what he 

 be — the best driver of the ball the sport has seen since Greg Norman.

There is nothing in golf as intoxicating as the beginning of a prodigy’s career. And in this case, the prodigy seems grounded and mature and willing to embrace the expectations.


Hope, as Red said in Shawshank Redemption, can be a dangerous thing.

But every once in a while, you have to go on a bender.


In this case, the high might last for years.

, which remains as riveting as any event in sports. Even the blowouts give us a reason to care. When have you ever seen Scottie Scheffler or Rory McIlroy weeping in defeat outside the Ryder Cup? Where else could have seen Boo Weekley riding his driver like a pony down the first fairway, or Shane Lowry bounding along the rope line like a professional wrestler waiting to be tagged into a match?


As a mixture of drama, pride and entertainment, it remains undefeated.


We are thankful for Luke Donald and Eduardo Molinari (some of us more than others) for their leadership and competence, the way they took a potential mess left by Henrik Stenson and turned it into one of the best European Ryder Cup squads in memory, choosing the best team and then putting them in the right mindset to succeed.

But not all our praise goes to the men in blue. There was a moment this year in Rome when Max Homa stood over a putt on the 18th green at Marco Simone on Sunday, that reminded us how inconsequential the squabbling over money feels when you contrast it with something that actually matters. LIV Golf could play for a billion dollars — which they may propose at some point — and it would still not measure up to the pressure Homa faced needing to defeat Matt Fitzpatrick to keep the United States alive in the competition.

There wasn’t a lot of upside for Homa at that moment. The United States was most likely going to lose the Ryder Cup regardless of what happened on Homa’s putt. But for now, the Ryder Cup hung in the balance. It was black and white. If he missed, the Europeans would win. If he drained it, the United States still had a sliver of hope.


How do you not feel thankful to bear witness to a moment like that?

Some stuff — thank god — will never be up for sale.


We are thankful, each day, for the existence of the 

, even the weird corners of Golf Twitter (which we refuse to refer to as X) that feel like they could be creatures in the Mos Eisley Cantina.


If Twitter sputters and flickers out, or descends further into a cesspool of bootlickers and losers, it will be a shame. Because golf, much like college football, has to be covered with a sense of humor if you’re going to do it right. Mainstream golf media has always been a little too stiff, a little too serious, for its own good. Imagine if there wasn’t a community of golfers eager to poke fun at the haughtiness.


This includes the litany of content creators on YouTube, most of whom seem to be having way more fun than anyone playing professionally.

In the same breath, we remain thankful and indebted to 

 which has given us reams of stats to pore over, the quality of it far better than what any tour has to offer.

who has been a beacon of hope in a frequently frustrating broadcast space. He is prepared, cogent, consistent and entertaining, qualities that are not often combined by those in his position.

, two generational talents who remind us how much the majors matter above everything else. Would we like to see them face each other more often? Certainly. But what truly matters is watching them lock horns with history on the line. We remain optimistic we’ll see more of it in 2024.


 in golf, for the way the game resets itself every few years and ushers in a new generation of potential. Like Ludvig, we are thankful for the promise of 

, or her precocious, timeless swing. There was a world of expectation on her shoulders when she turned pro, and she has navigated it thus far with grace. (Winning in her first start didn’t hurt either.)


, who made the most out of his PGA Tour U status and is quickly en route to the PGA Tour. And we are thankful for 

 unique swing and his unique facial hair. Bennett’s performance at the Masters represented some of the most exciting days of watching a major championship this year. And we are excited about recent NCAA national champions, 

, who have a chance to make noise as professionals. Platforming rising stars instead of letting them fade into pro golf obscurity was always the right move.


. Each was a reminder of how much joy we got this year out of following the women’s professional game.

, the crusty genius that he is. His routing of The Tree Farm, and his work on Pinehurst No. 10, represented two of the best courses we played this year, and it feels like he might be entering the most fun, dynamic period of his career.


 at Sand Valley. You cannot go wrong with any of them, but if you buy one for yourself, buy a second (or a third) for someone in your foursome. Good karma will follow.

we have found in all of you — readers, listeners, viewers — 

 who can’t help but make golf a regular part of your life.

We may not agree on everything. You may be skeptical about Åberg, annoyed with Rory McIlroy, or heavily invested in the future of the Aces, the Fireballs and the Cleeks. (Can you believe, btw, that Blandy re-signed so quickly?)

Perhaps all we have in common is we can’t resist chasing 

, the one you get when you flush a long iron and you watch it dance on the wind, well above the horizon line, just before it tumbles back to earth.


That’s all you need, some days, to chase the cynicism out of your body, and to feel thankful for whatever comes next.

Kevin Van Valkenburg is the Editorial Director of No Laying Up. He wrote this piece after consulting with other members of the squad on what they were thankful for this year. You can guess who nominated Ludvig.

NLU 2023: What We're Thankful For

It's been some time since we've done a crew-wide Q&A 

and after a big year, I figured there was no better time to survey the NLU squad. Let's dive in.

What has been your “NLU highlight” of 2023?

Allow me to first go down the leaderboard of honorable mentions as it’s been a really fun year: competing with my close personal friend

 at the Open Championship, and watching Carlota Ciganda 

 in front of King and Country to win the Solheim Cup would all be easy answers…


But, The Roost Club Championship at Sweetens Cove is the true highlight of 2023. Sweetens Cove and specifically, 

, hold a really special place in my heart. I get a great deal of joy out of watching people play the course, especially in a competitive format, for the first time. I will never get sick of making the trip to Tennessee’s Sequatchie Valley, and if you haven’t joined a Roost yet, consider 

Best piece of content you’ve consumed in 2023?

, a podcast that dives deep into the history and success of different businesses, during long runs and road trips. Warning: these podcasts are 3-4 hours long, but I really love the approach the hosts take: well-researched but conversational. They explore the history of each business and then analyze why they think the business is successful or unique. It’s something KVV and Soly are doing with our recent topic-based podcasts on 

 (fascinating, especially because I remember it happening in 4th grade but never really knew how bad these hombres were), 

One of the perks of this job is getting to play a lot of different golf courses, but at the same time, I only played 3 courses this year more than once. I often finish a round dying for another chance to play and hit certain shots again. One of those courses was Camargo in Cincinnati, where I played in a member/guest with one of my best friends. It was a joy to play one of the best courses in the country on repeat for 3 days, and I think Carmargo has some of the best par 3s in golf.

Grade school Neil would say Mike Piazza (but D.J. has urged me to reconsider). New answer is John Elway (his steakhouse in the Denver airport sucks too).


Easiest question of 2023. My new Dyson vacuum. I spent way too much time researching this purchase, and I’m thrilled I ponied up for 

 now that I have a black lab in an apartment with a white color palette!

A lot of directions we could go here. I had such a fun time in Rome, both on our scouting trip with Justine, Soly and Ben, and 

then during the actual Ryder Cup with Soly and KVV. 

 It’s easy to circle dates on the calendar years in advance and say “I can’t wait for X tournament in Y city,” but oftentimes those trips are contained solely to tournament dates and you spend most of your time there in media centers, shuttles and trying to find convenient meals before early wake-up calls. This year in Rome was one of the first times we’ve actually made a significant effort (with the help of the homies at BMW) to go over early and really get to know the course, the area, the people and let that excitement build all year. It made the Ryder Cup so much more fun and hopefully made our coverage better as well.


I’m going to go movie-related. Of course: “Oppenheimer,” “Killers of the Flower Moon” and “The Killer.” Underrated things I loved: “Past Lives” and “They Cloned Tyrone.” But the one that I want to shout out is “Beau is Afraid.” I don’t think it was the best movie I saw. I honestly don’t know what I thought about it. But I can’t stop thinking about it. I dare you to watch it. God, you might HATE it. It’s so sick.

Punchable answer: Sand Hills. Absolutely tip-top of the bucket list and it delivered on every expectation. I could play Nos. 7 and 8 all day every day for the rest of my life.

We had a chance to sneak out one afternoon

 during a shoot in St. Andrews and it’s a round I’ve thought about a lot since. It’s obviously drowned out by its more famous neighbors, but I can’t wait to go back.


One thing I really wanted to upgrade when we moved into our new house in Milwaukee was my audio setup. I love collecting records, but I’m like a 20 handicap when it comes to actual gear expertise. We decided to go with a new turntable from U-Turn Audio, which I’ve really loved. The gear is all very simple and clean and the ability to choose all the options you want and build a custom turntable not only helped me learn a lot more about how different pieces work but also allowed us to get exactly what we needed for our room. Highly recommend!

Justin Hueber fixing my putting on Film Room

I'm going with what I know will be at the top of my Spotify 2023 Rewind - the new album that I have listened to by far the most this year is 

 - it gets me fired up as soon as I hear the first note.

Sweetens Cove!  Finally checked that one off the list, and there was no better way to do it than at the Roost Club Championship. Had a smile on my face the whole time I was there - just a super fun course made better surrounded by our great community.

.  As someone who does a lot of shipping from home, the ability to now print/peel/stick a label in a matter of seconds from my computer or phone has been a massive upgrade to the shipping process.

I really, really loved the video we made about Jim Hartsell called “

”. I was extremely proud of the work Tron, DJ, Matt Golden, & Paddy Neill did in capturing and producing Jim’s story. It’s an amazing piece of content and one I’m so proud lives on our site.

It didn’t get any more enjoyable this year for me than the Oppenheimer one-two punch. Knowing that the Christopher Nolan movie was releasing later in 2023, I began reading the book the film is based on - “

American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer

” - early in the year. The book is amazing in its depth and breadth and was an awesome primer for the movie, which did not disappoint at all.

I was fortunate to get to play several amazing courses for the first time this year, Pine Valley among them, but the course that sticks out the most in my mind is Woking Golf Club outside London, England. Cody and I went over there on an afternoon prior to the start of the Women’s British Open and I could not have been more charmed by the place. It was quaint, challenging, fun, and walkable. And the colors were incredible—purple heath everywhere the eye could see. The highest compliment I can pay to Woking, or any course, is it’s a place I would love to play over and over day after day.

My best purchase of the year is a membership to a yoga studio near me. As I turned 40 this year, I decided I had to get serious about reclaiming (and preserving) my flexibility and mobility. I had been ignoring and putting off stretching as part of any workout routine with the result being a pretty constant feeling of tightness in my hips, legs, and low back. I’m now a couple of months into a dedicated routine of yoga (3x per week) and my back feels so much looser, and my body generally feels better than it has in a couple of years.

2023 AIG Women's Open with the Big Guy. From playing in the Pro-Am to doing BBC Radio throughout the week, it was a blast! Lots of "face for radio" jokes from people we ran into. But the highlight of it all was spending 1 on 1 time with Big. We played some great golf courses, ate too much curry and Chinese with Ian Carter and family, and tried all the G&Ts we could. I cannot wait for the Old Course next year.

I feel like everywhere I turn there is a new series or book being recommended to me. Sad to see Succession and Ted Lasso go out, but was excited for The Bear and The Crown to come back strong.

In the golf world, everyone thinks they deserve buckets full of cash. Your allegiance must be stated to support this or that. But we did have something cut through. Watching 

 will be a defining moment for me this year. Not because we did the project, but because of Jim. His vulnerability and openness to discuss the single hardest moment in any parent's life made me stop and think. It taught me to cherish what is in front of you because you never know when it is gone. It made me reach back out to friends, family, etc. It taught me to be present. It would not be possible without the love and support TC put into it. Coupling his vision with D.J. Pie to create something that will last long after we are gone. And Matt Golden seeing the whole thing through, with support from Paddy Neill and the great Justine Piehowski. If you have not sat down and watched the 50-minute film, please do so. You never know what you might be missing out on.


Sand Hills. Thanks to TC and D.J. Pie for a once-in-a-lifetime experience that will be hard to beat. Those two with an amazing host made it something I will never forget. Shout out to Commander Taco, Ben's porch, and ruby red Squirt (a splash is delicious in your vodka).


Mike Vick, followed closely by Ryan Leaf.


My wife's 40th Birthday trip to Italy. I hope it brings me goodwill for years to come.

Playing a match with Golden, Big, and D.J.

 at Lundin Links after a great day filming at the Walker Cup.


I’ve been trying hard to get into reading (specifically business/self-help books) more this year. Neil asked me to read Shoe Dog and I am so happy I did. From fostering that competitive mindset to stories about Pre and Bowerman - the whole book is a real treat.


Any KU Basketball player that isn’t playing well at the moment.

At-home baby monitor. That peace of mind knowing the baby is still kicking was a big help in our household. Don’t tell our doctor.

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 2023 Recap

The Nest Invitational Tournament (NIT) is No Laying Up’s year-end championship and the culmination of our 2023 event series presented by YETI. This year, 96 participants spanning 4 countries traveled to Omni PGA Frisco Resort in North Texas in hopes of becoming the 4th NIT champion. For more information on how to qualify for the NIT and No Laying Up’s 2024 events schedule, 

sign up for the No Laying Up email newsletter.

FRISCO — Many years from now, when I have lived out my allotted days and my time on Earth is nearing a peaceful conclusion, I hope someone will lean in closely, and with curiosity and tenderness, ask me this question:

What was the most majestic, purely-struck golf shot that you ever witnessed in person?

There will be several contenders to consider. Brooks Koepka mashing a 4-iron to a back pin on the 16th hole during the final round of the PGA Championship at Bellerive. Rory McIlroy’s Saturday afternoon 3-wood into the 16th green at the 2023 Ryder Cup. Dustin Johson’s 6-iron into 18 at Oakmont to put a bow on the U.S. Open. It will be difficult to choose just one, because a great golf shot lingers in the mind like someone tattooed it there. Television can’t do them justice. You never forget that sound, the way the ball whistles as it pierces the air, the way it flirts with the heavens before it tumbles to earth.

I’ve never dreamed an amateur could hit a shot that would enter that conversation. They were not, by my calculation, even eligible. Mortals, to be blunt, do not throw lightning bolts like Zeus. But after witnessing the 2-iron that Derek Ho — better known to the No Laying Up community as “3PuttKing” — hit into the 13th hole at Fields Ranch East this past Saturday, I am tempted to reconsider. Because to borrow a line from poet John Gillespie Magee, I’m fairly certain that ball slipped the surly bonds of Earth and touched the face of God.

Was that 2-iron, which knifed through a wall of wind and nearly hit the flag from 230 yards, the most important shot in 3PuttKing’s eventual victory in the Nest Invitational Tournament?

Certainly not. The ball flew a yard too far and hopped into the back bunker, and Ho was not able to turn it into points, his short game being (admittedly) something of a weakness.


“I really do have hands of stone,” Ho said.

But anyone who played with Ho this week would be quick to testify to the purity of his ball-striking. That 2-iron was not an anomaly. Ho may have chosen an appropriate, self-deprecating message board handle in declaring himself the 3PuttKing, but as Jason Dufner and even Ben Hogan proved, you do not have to be great at everything to succeed in golf. If you compress the hell out of your irons, you write your name on a trophy.


“Knowing what my limitations are, and knowing where to hit it, having a plan and executing it, that’s what we did all day,” said the 39-year-old Ho. “I couldn’t have done it without my caddie, Ghost of Ty Webb. He kept me so calm. I was never looking at the leaderboard the whole day. I had no idea what was going on, but I felt like I had to be right up there.”


Ho was hardly considered one of the favorites coming into the event. A commercial property manager from British Columbia, he picked up the game when he and his family immigrated to Vancouver, Canada from Hong Kong. But he mostly played it casually — not seriously — until his mid-30s.

“It was a sons of immigrants thing, just picking up whatever games were out there,” Ho said. “But it was more casual, maybe under 10 rounds a year.”

Things began to change during the pandemic. The golf scene in Vancouver became a vibrant safe haven for many, Ho among them. He started going to the Savage Creek driving range regularly, learning to use the muscles he honed as a soccer player to crush the ball. In June, he finished 2nd at the Major Mayhem Roost held at Mayfair Lakes in Vancouver, and when the winner chose not to attend, the invitation fell to Ho.

The legend of the 3PuttKing was set in motion. He came to Frisco with no expectations other than having fun.

“I met him when I played in the Mayhem Roost major and I told him when we linked up here, I said ‘Hey when you make the championship flight, I want to be on your bag,’” said Nick Bennett, aka Ghost of Ty Webb. “He came back to me (Saturday) and said ‘Did you mean that? Because if you did, I’m going to hold you to it.’ I’m glad he did because it was a blast.”

Ho said he felt a little out of sorts early in the competition. He made double bogeys on his first four holes. “I was really nervous,” Ho said. But on the 6th hole on the West course, he stuffed a gap wedge to five feet and made the putt.

“That got me some pep in my step,” Ho said. “Not only was it a good shot, but it got my mojo going. Honestly, it wasn’t until about Saturday morning that I even started to think this was possible. I was hitting the ball pretty good for my standards, so I just thought ‘Well, let’s go.’ ”


Bennett and Ho came up with a game plan before the final. They knew the East course presented a brutal challenge, and that some of the lower handicaps would have to press to find points. They just needed to take advantage of holes where they could score.

“We talked before the round and what our thought process was going to be for the day, and he said ‘Keep me conservative. Keep me between the mayo and the mustard,’ ” Bennett said. “We really stuck to that process, and I thought that he executed it flawlessly. I’m just really really proud of how he committed to every shot, and the results were almost always what we intended.”


Bennett’s only regret? That he didn’t make the 3PuttKing empty his golf bag before the championship round.

“We probably didn’t need three dozen golf balls,” Bennett said. “If I do this again, I probably will take some things out of the bag. I think he had his carry-on luggage in there, maybe some ankle weights, a rock collection. It was absurd.”

Ho steadily accumulated points throughout the final round, putting from off the greens and securing several crucial bogeys rather than rolling the dice with his short game. He also made crucial pars on 10, 15 and 17. But he did not waltz to victory. Both Sweet_Cupn_Cake and LeftySauce made a strong final charge.

“After the front nine, I said to my caddie ‘You know that Teddy Roosevelt quote: If you believe, you’re halfway there?’ Well, I believe,’ LeftySauce said. “I thought we were going to do it.

It was so dark that by the time the leaders reached 18, there was considerable debate over whether it was even possible to continue. The competition committee scrambled to come up with a solution that was even feasible. Should a champion be declared without everyone playing the final hole? Controversy and chaos loomed.

But then something beautiful unfolded. All along the 18th fairway, members of the No Laying Up community pulled out their cellphones. Like attendees at a rock concert or a prayer vigil, they used the flashlight function on their phones to light the way. 

Sweet_Cupn_Cake and LeftSauce hit magical approaches to keep their hopes alive. Each had an eagle chip that could, if it went in, capture the NIT.

LeftySauce’s ball was on the apron in front of the green. Sweet_Cupn_Cake had a look from the back bunker. A noticeable hush washed over the crowd. The 3PuttKing could only watch, and wait, the fate of the tournament no longer in his hands.

LeftySauce’s chip skipped once, then trickled short of the hole.

Sweet_Cupn_Cake’s bunker shot floated through the air, looking for a second like it might find the pin, but it missed a foot to the right.


As 3PuttKing and Ghost of Ty Webb embraced, a hearty chant broke out among the patrons.


Eventually, the iPhone flashlights went out. But even in the dark, you could tell Derek Ho — your champion golfer of the year — was still beaming.

Kevin Van Valkenburg is the Editorial Director of No Laying Up

2023 Nest Invitational Tournament Recap: The Legend of the 3PuttKing

Editor's Note: With professional golf entering its quasi-offseason, we're hoping to tell some stories that highlight aspects of the game that us mortals experience. This week, Kevin Van Valkenburg writes about playing golf as part of a community vs. playing alone.

For an audio version read by KVV, listen below.

Every Wednesday, in anticipation of my weekend, I sift through one of the four text threads on my phone related to golf. I read or make inquiries about getting a foursome together. There are few things I enjoy more than when the stars align and we can find a way to get my regular crew on a tee sheet somewhere.

There are frequent complications: Certain people can only play on Saturday; others won’t play if their alma mater is on TV. Youth sports schedules are a constant curve ball. Some friends want to play at the crack of dawn; others will only play at courses that won’t make us take carts. Sometimes, we make decisions that are driven by price, other times by how quickly someone needs to get home to their spouse and kids. Factor in the constant moving parts and needs of a blended family like mine and it is a miracle we play at all. If you think the New York Times Sunday crossword is hard, try finding a window where four adults in their 30s, 40s or 50s can play golf together without crippling guilt or financial strain.


We still attempt it — and frequently pull it off — for myriad reasons. The primary motivation is simple: We enjoy it immensely, even if the quality of golf is occasionally pitiful. (The people who suggest you need to be good at golf to enjoy it are the worst kind of snobs.) But there are intrinsic motivations too, ones we typically don’t talk about but innately understand.

There is mounting evidence (clinical, academic, anecdotal) suggesting that shifting so many of our friendships and social interactions to an online realm is not particularly good for our mental health. We squabble and MF each other in a digital space in ways we would never dream of doing in the real world. But the internet, and our smartphones, are only partially to blame for the loneliness creep. In 1995, Harvard professor Robert D. Putnam published a soon-to-be-famous essay titled “Bowling Alone” about the gradual collapse of community in America, the premise being that we once gathered in groups, as members of teams, to bowl in leagues. Over time, something shifted. Americans weren’t bowling less in 1995 than they were in 1955, research showed, they were simply choosing to do it solo. (The essay later became a best-selling book by the same name.)

Golf, perhaps by design, hasn’t succumbed to similar trends. If you show up as a single as your local muni, it is the job of the pro shop or the starter to play matchmaker, to try to find you a group that needs a fourth. Public courses, at least the majority of them, cannot afford to let introverts have run of the place, as such, every solo endeavor can feel like a roll of the social dice.


If you are lucky, you’ll land in a group of people who are warm and friendly, who drive it straight and ask you personal questions but don’t pry for sensitive details. If you hit the lottery, you might emerge with a new friend or a regular playing partner. If you’re unlucky — and it happens to everyone eventually — you’ll get paired with someone who can’t resist peppering you with crude, offensive jokes or unsolicited swing advice. You might have to share a walk (or a cart) with someone who takes way too long over the ball, throws tantrums and clubs, and is completely oblivious to golf’s unspoken social contract.


The next time this happens, just know as you watch them take six practice swings with rage swelling in your temple and jaw, that I have been there. I see you, and I feel your pain.


I still treasure what golf can do to foster a sense of community. I’ll never pass on the chance to play with friends or family if available, and those concepts, I’ve come to understand, are malleable. This week, our company will welcome nearly 100 golfers to Frisco, Texas, for our annual Nest Invitational Tournament. Each of them will bring a piece of themselves to the table in the name of communion. It is one of my favorite weeks of the year.

But in recent years, I have also learned to lean into the meditative zen of playing alone. It is one of golf’s most underrated pleasures. If you’ve never experienced it, I cannot recommend it enough.


I used to think golfing alone was the fate of a misanthrope, so I tried to avoid it at all costs. I would sneer with condescension when I watched Patrick Reed play practice rounds by himself at majors. Choosing to golf solo seemed like evidence of something pernicious. You had to have taken some wrong turns along the way to have arrived there.


But once you try it a few times, you realize how naive that is. It takes a bit of effort and luck to pull it off. You need to seek out tee times very early or very late, but the benefits are considerable. In recent years, I have grown fond of sneaking out late in the day, just as the sun is sinking low in the sky, comforted by the understanding that I do not care if I cannot finish nine holes, or post a score to my GHIN. The solitude is its own reward.

I cannot tell you at what point I became hopelessly addicted to my phone, only that it happened gradually and then suddenly, a fate that has ensnared so many of us. Every blinking alert or hideous vibration triggers a Pavlovian response in my brain that demands I yank it from my pocket, that I answer a Slack or a tweet or an email with unnecessary urgency. Yet golf, by myself, is one of the few times in my day when I feel like I can ignore those impulses, when nothing seems as important as the grass in front of me. My phone gets zipped into the pocket of my bag, and it remains there, hopefully for hours.

I am often convinced I am too impatient for meditation, too weak to escape the grasp and the allure of the digital world. But I can lose myself on a golf course if no one is around. I can forgive myself, as I walk to find my ball, for my failures and shortcomings. I can imagine ways in which I could be a better writer, a better father, a better son, husband or friend. A better version of me. Some days, I even hit good golf shots.

Is a birdie really a birdie if no one but me is around to see it? I have found that yes, it very much is.

Several years ago, while working for ESPN in 2016, I attended my first Masters. I arrived on a Tuesday, as most writers do, and as I walked the property for the first time, I could not stop smiling. The glow of Augusta National tends to dim a bit with each successive visit, but your first time feels a bit like visiting a movie set. It’s greener and larger than you can possibly imagine before you see it. Phones aren’t allowed on the grounds, so the impulse to take a picture quickly gives way to something more serene. I did what all first-timers do and made the pilgrimage out to Amen Corner, just to see it with my own eyes. I stood as close as I could to where Phil laced one through the trees on 13. I found the site of Tiger’s 2005 chip in. I wandered the property for hours with only my memories as a guide.

Late in the day, having seen all I thought I wanted to see, I drifted in the direction of the clubhouse, but paused as I walked behind the 6th hole. Almost no players, and very few patrons, remained on the course. But there was Trevor Immelman, the 2008 Masters winner, playing by himself. He was above the treacherous 6th green, gently bumping hybrids through the fringe, laboring over pieces of puzzle he once artfully solved. I leaned against a tree and watched him for several minutes, transfixed. For years, the scene lingered in my brain. What did it feel like to play Augusta National by yourself? Even members didn’t seem to have that privilege from what I could tell.

I decided, after years of mulling it, to call Immelman and ask.


It turns out, against all odds, he remembered the scene I witnessed. Sort of.

“After I won [in 2008], my routine kind of became going to play nine holes by myself really late on Tuesday, teeing off about 3:30,” Immelman said. “I would also generally play the front nine, because typically all the patrons, especially if it’s their first time, they’re out on the back. They want to see Amen Corner and the flowers popping. But there was always something serene about getting to the third or fourth hole and there would literally be no one out there. That time of the afternoon as the sun is starting to set and you’ve got these shadows coming from the tall pines — it’s awesome. I think me doing that on those late Tuesday afternoons was like therapy for me.”

What does one think about when you’re all alone in one of golf’s cathedrals?


“It takes you back to when you’re a kid and your dad comes to pick you up and you’re like ‘I want to play a couple more,’ ” Immelman said.

Immelman, 43, no longer competes professionally. His job as CBS’ lead analyst consumes much of his year, so doesn't play much golf these days. Twice a week, if he’s lucky. “I’m sure to some people that seems like a lot,” he says. “But you have to understand where I was coming from.” When he does play, it’s typically with his teenage son, Jacob, or a group of friends at his club. But some days, if his schedule permits, he will sink into the silence of being by himself.

“The thing that I really enjoy about it is, the game is so challenging and so difficult, no matter what level you’re at,” Immelman said. “If you’re a beginner and you’re just trying to get it airborne, or you’re trying to get two in a row airborne, or you’re a pro and you’re trying to make sure all your draws actually draw and all your fades actually fade, it’s so challenging for everyone. And the unknown landscape of how much of it is physical and how much of it is mental, it’s an unanswerable question. When you can fall in love with that journey, you can keep yourself occupied for hours.”


Some days, when I’m racing against the setting sun, it’s already dark when I reach the last hole. I can’t even see the ball as it flies off the clubface. Logic tells me it’s foolish to tee off, that I should just walk in, but I often do it anyway.

It’s only then that I reach for my phone. The flashlight function tends to come in handy here as I search for my ball. I can see a string of texts and emails on the home screen, but I’m confident they can wait. If I’m lucky, there might be time for one more swing.

Kevin Van Valkenburg is the Editorial Director of No Laying Up.

I Walk Alone: Embracing Solo Golf

Editor's Note: With professional golf entering its quasi-offseason, we're hoping to tell some stories that highlight aspects of the game that us mortals experience. This week, our own Ben Hotaling writes about his first experience with proper links golf, and some of the ways it lit up his golfing brain like never before.

The wind didn’t scare me. As a Kansas-bred golfer, I felt like I understood the wind. In a sense, my game had been shaped by it.

I wasn’t intimidated by the turf, either. The firmness of the ground, particularly after spending half my life hitting off soggy lies in America, was invigorating.

But my brain would not stop humming. The possibilities seemed overwhelming. Nothing ran on autopilot. In front of me was a canvas, and I was used to solving math problems.


For years, I had longed for the chance to play true links golf. I was itching to test myself. Now, after a long day of work in St. Andrews, I found myself at Lundin Links on a perfect Scottish evening. I thought I was ready.


My education, I soon learned, had just begun.

My colleague Matt Golden and I had fought and clawed our way through a friendly but intense match with our coworkers, Big Randy and D.J.. Everyone had played well; neither team held more than 1 up through the first 17 holes. The sun was setting and it was getting dark — darker than any cameras might have made it appear, although there were none in sight. We were one of the last groups on the links. The wind was still strong, blowing right into us as we tried to figure out what we needed to do to close out this match.

Matt made a nice pass at the ball which came up just short of the green. He mosied over to me, hoping he could help me break down what I needed to do to get the ball on the green to make a par and seal the match. 

I had already pulled off a great drive, deftly avoiding the looming out-of-bounds stakes on the left. I was rewarded with a perfect links lie and an open look at the green. D.J. and Big Randy couldn’t say as much. They’d bailed out right and now had a compromised view of the green, a tough angle with a large hill on the right sporting a death bunker carved into it. Matt and I had called out that death bunker on the first tee of the day. “If it comes down to 18,” he said to me as we walked down the first fairway, “looks like we need to avoid that bunker at all costs.”

As Matt was walking up to my ball, I pulled out my yardage book for the millionth time of the day and began examining all the potential outcomes in front of me. Even though this was my first time playing golf in Scotland, I already understood the value of the “stroke saver” — Scottish for yardage book — on these links courses. By that point, the stroke saver was going in and out of my pocket before every shot, including some of my putts. It looked like a child’s stuffed animal, worn down by affection and love. I examined it intensely, my head moving from the book to the greensite like the bobblehead you get at an MLB game.

Matt and I started our process. The math had begun. We examined the lie — perfect. Flat, with no grass clumps in front of or behind the ball. My stance was good. But the most important question remained: How was it going to come off the club? Would the contact be pure? Though my lie was perfect, it was still wildly unfamiliar. As the sun went down and the air got cooler, the ground became even more firm. My hands were beginning to numb a bit. The last few strikes from the fairway felt like clipping a shot off the cart path or hard pan in Texas in the middle of summer. Uncomfortable.


The equation moved to the wind and temperature. There was a strong breeze all day. Not gusty but everpresent. Being from Kansas, the wind wasn’t new to me. I regularly play in 20+ mph winds. But on Scottish links, the wind is an entirely different animal. The ball gets attacked the minute you make contact. There are no trees to alter the wind, and no opportunities to pull the trigger after a gust blows through.


I pulled out my rangefinder. I was 138 yards to the stick. I turned to my partner, talking to myself as much as I was to him. “Alright Matt,” I said. “We have 138 yards. Perfect lie. Wind directly in. Temp dropping quickly. Pin tucked up against the death bunker. What do you think?”


“Yeah man, sounds like a good number,” Matt said. “Hit a good one.”

But was it a good number? I had no clue.


I’ve always loved laying out my process, doing the math equation verbally, almost speaking great shots into existence. But in Scotland, I found myself delivering monologues.

“138 + 15 for wind, add 5 for temperature.” I said aloud, to myself as much as to Matt. Do you like a 160 shot?” 

A perfect full 9-iron. I reached toward my bag.

Hesitation hit me like a blast of wind. “Well, it could balloon and climb the wind if I hit it well,” I said. “With the wind, I think the ball should stop on the green if I land it by the flag. I think I am going to hit a stock 8-iron that comes out mid-height.”


I grabbed my club and looked up at the green one more time.

I had totally forgotten about my target and shot shape. There was OB left of the green with a severe run off toward the left. The death bunker was pin high on the right. I figured I might be able to get a lucky kick off the bunker slope — so long as I missed the bunker. Long and short are both OK but would require some snazzy short game work with perfect pace to lock up the match.


There was a new factor to consider: Whenever I try to flight an iron, my natural right to left shape gets amplified due to timing. With the wind blowing steadily, that would get amplified.


“Where is my target?” I yelled to Matt. “I think I’m aimed right at the death bunker.”

I love playing fast. It’s part of how I was raised. Now I was doing everything I could to hit the ball before my imaginary 45 seconds was up. Moments like this, I’d never really had to consider. Back home, I did my math in seconds. 138 meant 138. When in doubt, fly it in the hole. If you’re a good player, the ball will stop more often than not. That was not the case today.

My brain was still firing as I set up to the ball.

Nothing else in the world existed besides my 8-iron, that ball and the greensite ahead.

When I am swinging well, I don’t make divots, and in that moment, I absolutely roasted the shot leaving the turf completely untouched. The ball pierced through the air at that perfect mid-flight, whistling as it tracked towards the greensite. Halfway there, I knew it wasn’t going left. The ball disappeared into the darkness right at my target.

“Anyone see where that finished?” I yelled out.


A resounding NO from the group echoed back.

I grabbed my bag and hustled toward the green, bouncing down the fairway like Rory McIlroy at Congressional. No balls on the green that I could see. My shoulders slumped a little. I did a hole check just to be sure. No dice.

We were all scattered tracking down our shots. Both D.J. and Big Randy’s approaches found the hill to the right of the green, no surprise because that’s all they could see from their approach. Sheepishly, I climbed the hill to peer into the death bunker. The sobering truth stared back at me.

Fried egg, right in the middle. Dead pin high.


I had missed that kick I was hoping for by a yard.


Randy and D.J. hit up and, as expected, left themselves with a chip and a very long putt from the opposite side of the green.


I ventured into the deep bunker knowing if I could keep it on the green, it would be a remarkable shot. Getting it close was unthinkable. Leaving it in the bunker was a real possibility.

My ball came out nicely, hit the backside of the bunker — then scurried to the wrong side of the green. A 40-footer in the dark awaited me.

Matt hit up and left himself 6 feet. There was hope after all for this match!

D.J. hit a solid chip to secure a five. I hit my putt and missed.


Writing

NLU 2023: What We're Thankful For

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 2023 Recap

2023 Nest Invitational Tournament Recap: The Legend of the 3PuttKing

I Walk Alone: Embracing Solo Golf

The Beginning of My Links Golf Journey

The Eras Tour: How I finally embraced being a Swiftie

My Wisconsin Golf Marathon

Nest Exclusive: Jerry Springer Was Here to Listen

7 Thoughts From A Sportswriter Upon Seeing Springsteen For The First Time At Age 45

In the Nest: KVV on Brady's Sad Goodbye

The Electric Phactory Wins the Inugural Roost Club Championship

From the Refuge: How I met my childhood hero the "Unicorn," Anthony Kim

2021 Nest Member Gift

Selection #18: December 2019

Selection #17: October 2019

Selection #16: September 2019

NLU Summit Photos

NLU Invitational: Scotland / SOLD OUT