A year ago, my best friend, Chris, texted me asking if I’d be interested in going on a Scotland golf trip that his brother, Stefan, was putting together. Their mom wasn’t in great health, and dealing with that reality helped them realize how important it is to seize the moment while you can because tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. It might seem like a cliché until life kicks you in the stomach, and then it feels like the only logical choice:

It was an expensive trip, but it felt important for a lot of reasons. If there is one rule I try to let guide my friendships, it’s that you show up for your people. The times that I’ve made a different choice, whether it was based on work or finances or convenience, I’ve always regretted it after the fact.

In addition, I’d never played The Old Course and didn’t know when an opportunity to do so might present itself. If you write and talk about golf for a living, and you haven’t played the most important course in the world, you can’t help but feel a bit of imposter syndrome. The company we’d hired to put together our itinerary, Hidden Links, made getting on the Old Course seem like a sure thing, saying they’d never had a problem getting groups on in 20 years, so for a good six months I couldn’t resist telling people: “I’m off to Scotland this summer to play The Old Course!”

I booked a flight to Edinburgh and dreamed of what line I’d take over the hotel on the 17th when my chance finally arrived.

I should have suspected my trip might be (slightly) cursed when summer storms delayed my flight out of Baltimore on Aug. 3 for two hours, meaning I’d miss the flight from Boston to Edinburgh. Remembering what happened last year on the way to the Open in Liverpool, where Virgin Atlantic held my golf clubs hostage for a week, I had to beg Delta Airlines to get my checked bags off the Baltimore to Logan flight, knowing if my bags got sent to Boston without me, I’d likely never see them in Scotland. Because of my AirTag, I could see they were still on the plane, and the automated Delta baggage chat in the app was absolutely no help. (I don’t have status like TC does, but I do have some, and it’s still a nightmare to try and get a real person on the phone when you have a problem.) After an hour of standing in line, the baggage people at BWI mercifully pulled my clubs and suitcase off the plane, and I glumly returned to my house, waving goodbye to a tee time at Carnoustie I was going to miss because of the delay.

The next afternoon, I boarded another flight, this time going to Edinburgh with a connection through Atlanta, confident that the worst of my travel woes was behind me. My flight to Edinburgh was delayed for two hours, but at midnight, we finally boarded and set out over the ocean. I had an email from Hidden Links informing me that our group had not been selected in the initial application to play The Old Course, but not to worry because we still had two chances left. At least my flight delay hadn’t killed that dream, or I might have sobbed into my beer at Legal Sea Foods at Logan Airport.

Three hours into our flight over the ocean (my brain a little fuzzy and likely half asleep) the captain informed us that he was reluctantly going to have to turn the plane around and land in Boston. (The flight tracker showed we were somewhere over Nova Scotia.) A woman on the flight needed medical attention.

We hear a lot about how people are selfish these days, and I think social media typically gives us a window into our worst selves, but I was impressed at how understanding everyone on the flight was. Our plans were being upended, certainly, but no one who isn’t a raging asshole believes their tee time or their vacation is worth someone’s life. We just wanted the women — whom the majority of us could not see — to be okay.

Our new flight to Edinburgh wouldn’t leave for 16 hours, but Delta offered us a $36 food voucher as a panacea for our troubles. I waved goodbye to rounds at The New Course and also Kingsbarns. I asked Delta if I might get a day pass to the Sky Club, even offering to purchase one at essentially any cost, and they said no. They also shot down a hotel. It was not their fault I’d been delayed.

My friends in Scotland expressed their bafflement at my bad luck. Hidden Links sent us an email saying we had not been selected in the second round of private applications for The Old Course.

After 16 hours of sleeping intermittently on the floor at Logan, it was time for a group of zombie travelers to board our flight to Edinburgh. I watched Challengers on the flight (enjoyed it!) but the entire time, I contemplated whether I was actually landing in Scotland or if I’d be stuck in a time loop forever.

Mercifully, we finally landed in Edinburgh, where I decided to rent a car to catch up with my group of friends because Hidden Links told me I should just Uber (on my own dime) and that it was not possible for them to get me to St Andrews, despite having paid for transportation as part of the package. Renting a car for the week cost essentially the same as a one-way taxi, so I jumped at that. (I’ve seen those commercials, and while I didn’t expect Nick Faldo to pick me up in a helicopter, it didn’t strike me as too much of an ask to book me a taxi, but alas it worked out better in the end.)

I finally arrived in St Andrews that afternoon, and since my friends were off playing Kingsbarns, I decided to see if I could play The New Course. I had, after all, already paid for a tee time I didn’t use. Perhaps they would honor it?

The Links Trust informed me that, sorry, I would have to pay another 140 pounds and see if Hidden Links might refund me on the back end. It was about that time that Hidden Links sent another email informing me that my group had not been selected to play The Old Course for the third straight day, but I was now welcome to enter the singles queue lottery.

I did not weep, but a part of my sleep-deprived brain considered it.

Thankfully an NLU reader named Joe recognized my lumpy frame and graying beard and asked if I’d like to join his group on the New Course, and despite having slept on my feet for three straight days, I somehow shot a 39 on the front nine. (Jet lag and the wind got the best of me on the back nine.) It was a lovely afternoon and one that I’ll always be grateful for, punctuated by one of the best birdies I’ve ever made, a 6-iron to three feet on the 9th hole.

(After I hit the shot, I hit the “Had To Do It To Em” pose for the camera.)

I also, for the first time in my life, got to take some TIO relief on the 18th when I yanked my approach left and got to take a line-of-sight drop from some of the infrastructure that’s up for the AIG Women’s Open.

But it was hard not to think about The Old Course as I went to dinner that night (finally meeting up with my group) at the Rusacks Hotel, which overlooks the 18th fairway.

It used to be if you wanted to play The Old Course, and you couldn’t afford to pay a travel company like Hidden Links to try and secure you a spot in line, you just had to want it badly enough to make it happen. You could show as a single at the Old Pavillion near the first tee the night before, enter your name, and if you were willing to essentially camp out on a bench until dawn, you could get a tee time. They were handed out (based on availability) in order of how soon you got into the queue. It was a little insane, but also charming and democratic, and if that option still existed, I would certainly have done it, like thousands of golfers before me.

It no longer works that way, however. As a single, you enter the ballot for the following day electronically on an iPad and your entry is now randomized. In theory, someone who shows up at 9 a.m., when the ballot opens, has just as good of a chance of getting one of the coveted slots as someone who enters at 4:59 p.m. But how that works is not explained. Each of the three days I entered, I ended up somewhere in the 50s on the waitlist, regardless of how early or late I filled out a ballot.

I understand, logically, why the Links Trust decided the change was necessary. The first tee of the world’s most famous course had apparently begun to look like the base camp for Mt. Everest, with groups of golfers arriving days in advance just to make sure they didn’t miss out, bringing their clubs, their sleeping bags and their trash with them. Important people began to claim it was unsightly, perhaps even a safety issue on cold nights. This was a reasonable way to restore order.

It still feels like something egalitarian got lost with the change. The Old Course’s golden tickets are now handed out by an algorithm, not a person who gives you a wink and wishes you luck when they write down your name. People I know who landed a tee time under the old system talked about it like it was one of the fondest memories of their lives, just a group of strangers collectively rooting on each other, their one bond being that they all loved golf more than they could describe. It was — to be a bit dramatic — an act of communion.

Now that process takes place inside a computer and is delivered to your phone.

I understand why. Times change. But I reserve the right to mourn what was lost.

I had some drinks at the Dunvegan, I bought my wife a cashmere scarf at one of the local shops, I applied for the daily lottery multiple times, and had a delicious haggis roll and stout from the halfway house between The New and The Old.

But eventually, it was time for our group to leave St Andrews and head to Troon. Our tee times at Prestwick and Western Gailes beckoned.

I would like to think I’ll be back someday, that there is a round on The Old Course still in my future. I am 100 percent certain Hidden Links won’t be involved in my next itinerary. But with this new system, I may need to give it some time and space in regards to The Old Course, at least until my luck changes.

Page Break

It sounds like I had a miserable week in Scotland, but that’s not true. Much of the golf was great. The Guinness too. The company was excellent. I was the only American in our group, and it was interesting to hear the perspective of seven Canadians about what’s going on in America and what the future might hold for us. They mined me for stories about the PGA Tour and LIV, and asked about some of my favorite courses in the United States. We talked about our families and our favorite football teams, about aches and pains that once seemed temporary but now felt permanent. I didn’t know six of the people on the trip before I met them in Scotland, but by the end, I’d laughed with all of them and cheered on their golf games. You don’t have to be the best of friends with the entire group in order to enjoy yourself on a golf trip, which is one of the reasons a golf trip can be spiritually fulfilling, even with strangers.

At night, my friend Chris and I talked about our families and our futures. His mom passed away a few months ago, and one night when we were driving around Edinburgh near the end of the trip, Zach Bryan’s 

“Pink Skies” magically appeared on Spotify’s shuffle.

 I explained that a lot of people believe Bryan wrote it about his mother’s funeral, and for a few minutes, we said nothing, just let the music wash over us. We met when we were in our 20s and now we’re staring down 50. I don’t have a brother, but he’s a pretty good stand-in for one.

Unlike the New Course, Kingsbarns was kind enough to honor the tee time I’d already paid for (but missed), and my friends elected to play it for a second time so that I could experience it. They loved it and considered it one of the best courses they’d ever played.

Over the next three days, I played consecutive rounds at Kingsbarns, Prestwick, Dundonald and Western Gailes, and that lineup provided an interesting contrast between classic links courses and modern links courses.

Prestwick and Western Gailes have been a big part of golfing lore in Scotland since the mid-1800s. The first Open Championship was held at Prestwick in 1851, an idea Old Tom Morris and his friends dreamed up over pints at the Red Lion Pub just up the street. Western Gailes has been a golf club since 1897. They each weave their way through the dunes and feature rumpled fairways, deep pot bunkers, blind tee shots and quirky greens. Here is my friend Chris, leaving a putt woefully short at Prestwick despite the double rainbow in the background.

A double rainbow greeted us on the back nine at Prestwick.

Kingsbarns and Dundonald are at the opposite end of the spectrum. They don’t feel intimate or claustrophobic, they’re huge canvases with the boldest of brushstrokes. Both were built in the early 2000s, and designed by Kyle Phillips, and the conditions are immaculate. The Women’s Scottish Open is happening this week at Dundonald, and when you are on property, you can understand why. This was a course built to test the best of the modern game. Kingsbarns was meant to blow you away visually, and every hole is like its own dramatic set piece in a movie.

I played well for a stretch at every course, and the wind punished me severely at every course, so I don’t think the weather factors into my assessment here, but I came away realizing that a great links course reminds me a lot of a great bar. I’m the kind of golfer who likes a bar where the lights are a little low and the stools are kind of wobbly from a century of regulars sitting in them. Sometimes I like a clean, modern bar with an inventive menu and surfaces that aren’t cracked, a place with great natural light and a staff that jumps to attention every time I need a refill. But the soul of a good bar is impossible to fake, and the same is true of a golf course.

Western Gailes was impossibly hard at times. It has knee-deep fescue on almost every hole, and I lost half a dozen balls when the wind was off the left and I couldn’t keep my wipey fade in play.

But something about it — and Prestwick — spoke to me like Kingsbarns and Dundonald never could. That probably feels like a snotty, hipster take, and if you love modern links courses with clean sightlines and beautiful visuals, I am not going to tell you that you’re wrong. The game needs to evolve, and you could never hold a major tournament at Prestwick or Western Gailes these days. But I know the kind of places I want to seek out the next time I return to Scotland.

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 15 (KVV)

Welcome back to another installment of What’s Burning At The Killhouse, where we take the temperature of the squad and get some answers to some very important questions.

Majors season has concluded for the men, and we have just one major remaining for the women. What’s one shot from the majors this year that will live in your memory for years to come, and why did it resonate?

Rory’s shot into the par-3 15th during the final round of the U.S. Open. There is no way it was going to end up short. And in my heart of hearts, I knew there was no way he way going to hit the green. But the thud followed by the camera work watching it rolling will stick with me for a while. Contrasting that with Bryson’s third shot left of 8 green, or his bunker shot on 18. The final 9 back and forth were all-time.

Scottie Scheffler’s approach to the 9th green at Augusta on Sunday. Right before it happened, I turned to Kyle Porter and said “I bet he hits this to about a foot.” I am typically terrible at predictions, but it felt like Scheffler was done kidding around. I just had a weird sense he was going to grab hold of the tournament. That’s exactly what happened. He nearly made it, and the ball came to rest six inches from the cup.

at the Masters is still haunting me. A really tough wind, back left pin, ball below his feet, and he slung it into the back shelf and made the birdie. My Scottie slurping went to an entirely different level having seen that shot in person.

This may be recency bias, but Scottie Scheffler’s 3-wood into the par 3 17th at Troon on Saturday was among the best golf shots I’ve ever seen. He was one of the few players to hit the green at the 17th, and his 3 wood cut through brutal gusts of wind to end up 4 feet from the hole. Scottie did not win and did not play particularly well at The Open this year, but it’s shots like that that cement him as the best golfer in the world even during weeks when he isn’t in peak form. Scheffler’s ball striking is just different, and this shot was the embodiment of that difference.

 - How about three shots in a row all from the same spot? I’m talking Nelly and her 10 on the par-3 12th at Lancaster Country Club during the U.S. Women’s Open. It took her three tries to get the ball to get up and stay up on the green after pitching her second shot out of the back bunker into the front water hazard. Those shots will live in my memory as proof that golf is hard for everyone, not just for the hacks like us who play for fun!

Bryson’s second shot on #18 at Pinehurst. After the excruciating finish to Rory’s round, Bryson’s punch out was the last glimmer of hope for Rory and the Block Party.

- Ayaka Furue’s eagle putt to win the Evian. I know there’s a lot of discourse about the merits of the Evian, but Ayaka was absolutely the best player that week – and has shown up big in most of the majors, as well! She’s just one piece of an incredibly stacked contingent from Japan that I’ve gotten a lot of joy from watching.

Scottie’s 3-wood into No. 17 on Saturday at The Open. It was 235, playing at least 270 into the wind and cold and Scottie nearly holed it. Obviously, it was Xander’s year at the majors, but as a distance control aficionado, no one made me happier to watch brutally difficult approach shots than Scottie, who seems to pull off about 3 times more of them than anyone else.

Ludvig’s soggy second shot on into 11 on Sunday in Augusta. I’ll remember that one when he wins there in the next couple years and draws upon what he learned that day. Success is the result of learning from failure.

The political season is upon us. If a presidential candidate asked for your support on the condition that they would use the executive power of the office to change one thing (big or small) within the world of golf, what would you ask they get done in exchange for your endorsement?

There are thousands, if not millions of other more important topics that I hope POTUS is focused on, even in this hypothetical world. But I would double down on KVV’s Pace of Play issue below. Even though he plays at a fancy private club in Baltimore.

Slow play at public courses. I’m convinced the most infuriating feeling in golf is being stuck behind a foursome where players leave their carts without a club to look for balls. I would ask POTUS to appoint a Pace of Play czar who would force players to pass a test outlining simple golf etiquette before they’re allowed to book tee times.

I would push for a rider or earmark on some big infrastructure bill that reserved money to either fix up or build public par 3 courses in municipal parks around the country. I played the new Golden Gate par 3 course in San Francisco earlier this year. It was a fantastic experience, and I think well-designed short courses like this one are the future of golf, especially in urban areas. In most cities, there is already a par 3 like the newly renovated Golden Gate par 3. New York City has the Flushing Meadow Pitch n’ Putt, which has the location and lights to be a booming business if the course and amenities were renovated (I wrote about this 

 - Since moving to Las Vegas, I have been playing a ton of public golf and seeing a ton of really bad golf etiquette. Driving carts right up to the greens (and leaving them there while putting), not fixing pitch marks on the green, playing from tees that are too far back, having no awareness of where other people are on the hole or course, etc.. Like KVV, I would love for there to be a simple golf etiquette test people need to pass before they can go out by themselves to play.

Let’s do away with taking off hats before shaking hands after a round. More specifically, running your hand through your sweaty hair before shaking your playing partner's hands. Maybe it is just me and my haircut, but I have always felt that I look like an absolute idiot post-round with gnarly sweaty hat hair. Nothing noble about that look!

- Mansplainers on the range. The first unsolicited piece of bad swing advice is a $500 fine, then $1000, and so forth.

Make the Presidents Cup a mixed-team event with 6 men and 6 women on each side. And please ensure that No Relief From Divots in the Fairway remains the law of the land.

I would demand that Webb Simpson be locked up at ADX Florence, the Federal Supermax Penitentiary out in Colorado, for the stunts he’s pulled this year between his sponsor exemptions (and his comments about them), skipping non-signature events, attempting to circumvent the governance/nomination process for the PGA Tour board so he could give his spot to Rory, etc. I’m very troubled by it all and believe he needs some time to reflect upon his actions.

Our man D.J. received some unfair criticism for his grilling technique during the U.S. Open last month, and it made us wonder: If you’re grilling something, either for your family or some friends, what’s one of your favorite things to throw on the grill and what do you do (whether it’s a seasoning or marinade or technique) to make sure it kicks ass?

I haven’t done this in forever and I’m not sure why, but I love the Gordon Ramsey trick of blending in egg yolk into a ground beef patty for burgers. It gives it a lot more volume and holds the ground beef together on the grill a lot better. Damn, now I’m hungry. OK, I’m doing this on Sunday.

I think it is just the age that the kids are at, but we cook burgers and hot dogs weekly. I have found a great butcher shop in Fort Worth and our blend is dialed. I over-season the patties with the Sand Hills special and let it rock. Boar’s Head dogs for me and Momma, the kids love the cheap stuff. Either way, it is delicious.

My wife and I have a never-ending tug-of-war over how to cook salmon on the grill. I really like brown sugar and dijon mustard, she really likes a marinade of soy sauce, sesame oil and sherry. Like political candidates trying to win over various parts of the electorate, we are constantly trying to get our children to support which marinade they prefer. I currently believe I’m winning, but it’s always close. We each prefer salmon on the grill, not in the oven, for reasons we can’t entirely explain. As much as I enjoy it when I go somewhere and someone uses cedar planks for their salmon, that’s too much work for me. Put that fish right on the grill, skin side down, and then hit the other side with some grill marks right at the finish.

I am by no means a grill master, but I’ve been using the grill up on the roof of my building once a week this summer, so I’m getting some reps! I’ve been getting preseasoned burger paddies at 

 in my neighborhood. I have no shame letting the pros handle the seasoning for me!

 - I love to throw veggies on the grill - either in a grill basket to toss around or kebab style on metal skewers. Peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, asparagus, corn, and zucchini - all great on the grill! Try to cut everything to similar sizes so they finish at the same time, and keep shaking the basket (or turn the kebab skewer) every few minutes to ensure even cooking/char. Thicker slices of stuff you could do directly on the grates (think full ears of corn or thicker onion slices or zucchini plants). Season with some olive oil and pepper - go easy on the salt - you don’t want to draw all the moisture out of the veggie before you grill it. Eat them as is with a sprinkle of flaky salt and more pepper, make a grilled veggie sandwich, toss them in a bowl with a grain like farro or quinoa and top with a dressing to make a healthy side to whatever else you’re grilling.

 Living in Kansas City, you have to smoke your meat. My go-to steak is a thick-cut Ribeye. Get that steak near room temp, dry it off as best I can, add some heavy salt then put that bad boy on the smoker. I usually go with Cherry for red meat. Smoke for roughly 45 minutes at 225 F. Once the internal temp hits 115, I’ll take it off the smoker and let rest while I get the grill as hot as possible. Sear both sides for 60-90 seconds. Let rest for 5 minutes. Hit it with salt and pepper. Enjoy.

- I am more of a pan-seared gal, but I helped a friend of mine prepare some ribs recently and it might have changed my entire perception of a food category beloved by my fellow Americans. I’ve avoided ribs for years. You’re telling me I can douse it in mustard, dry rub and it will smell that good?!

I usually skip the grill for steaks and do them on a cast iron skillet instead, but I’ve been on a Tri-Tip kick this summer and have been rubbing it in salt, garlic, coffee grounds (shoutout Stone Creek) and ancho chili powder for a spicy, deep flavor. And then I’ll make a creamy macaroni (or shrimp!) salad with dill and cucumbers mixed in to cool it down, and then put a big dollop of tomato jam on the side of the steak to cut the spice a bit. Pair it up with a crisp pilsner or a bottle of chilled gamay, cab franc or another light, dry red and you’ve got an easy, fun summer meal.

Staying up and watching the 2008 Gold Medal basketball game between the U.S. and Spain. I was really into basketball at the time, and The Redeem Team was a big deal to me. International hoops kinda fascinate me, and the concept of getting all of these big-name dudes to figure out how to play together in a different style against teams that treat every game with you like it’s their Super Bowl is just really intriguing (and maybe why I’ve been suckered into rooting for the U.S. Ryder Cup team.) Kobe’s four-point play and the shush. LeBron creating the wide-open look for D Wade to sink the dagger three with two minutes left, and the haunting sound of U.S. crowd going ape shit. Man, that was good stuff. I may go re-watch that now.

Phelps winning everything or any Michael Johnson race. Unfortunately, a lot of the recent Olympics do not stick with me because I was occupied at the time. But Michael Johnson could move.

In 2008, I was the Michael Phelps reporter for the Baltimore Sun. I didn’t know a lot about swimming when I got that gig, but by the time the Olympics arrived, I knew almost everything and everyone within the sport. Jason Lezak was always this friendly, charming guy who wasn’t a star but was an essential part of U.S.A. swimming culture. It’s easy to gloss over now, but so much of the hype about Phelps’ quest to win eight gold medals would have fizzled on the second night of the Olympics if Lezak hadn’t done some superhero shit in the final leg of the 4x100 meter relay. I still get chills when I think about what it must have been like for him, diving into that pool nearly a full body length behind France’s Alain Bernard, and knowing that he had the weight of history on his shoulders. One bad stroke and not only would the Americans lose, but some of the sizzle would be gone from the games. Phelps’ quest would be over. The Olympics is about athletic excellence, obviously, but some of the best moments happen when it seems like a normal, otherwise-forgetable athlete summons something magical when the pressure is overwhelming. I love watching Lezak churn for home, even though I know the outcome, and I love watching Phelps and Garrett Weber-Gale pound the deck in encouragement as he does. I was 30 years old as I watched it unfold, and it still feels like it could have happened last week. It’s the most amazing athletic feat I’ve ever seen live.

 podcast where Randy, Cody, and I break down our lasting Olympic memories and where we were in life from the 1996 Olympics onward. I have some very vivid memories from the Olympics in 1996 including Kerry Shrugg’s one-footed landing on the vault.

 - Women’s Figure Skating at the Calgary Winter Olympics 1988. Katarina Witt vs. Debi Thomas in the Battle of the Carmens - they both skated their long program to the same music from that opera. I was 11 years old at the time and SUPER into skating (taking lessons, at the rink every weekend, etc..). We roll our eyes now at some of the “forced drama” that NBC stuffs down our throats during the games, but as a kid, I bought into the battles. The Witt/Thomas battle ended up being pretty underwhelming - Witt’s lacked a lot of technical prowess (but was artistically great). Thomas made mistakes on a few jumps. Katarina went on to take her 2nd gold in a row (and I took her name as my German class name in high school a few years later).

- Dare I say this year, 2024? Watching Simone Biles clutch out the team final in gymnastics brought me to tears. Gymnastics is such an emotional and vulnerable sport. There is a precise rhythm and tempo that you’ve worked countless hours to perfect on bars, vault, and beam and you have one shot at getting it right. When you’ve reached the floor, which is usually the final rotation, you are all you have. I can’t imagine the amount of times Simone must have wondered if she’d be afflicted with the twisties again. If her mind and body would be in full sync. And at 27-years-old, with a lot of scar tissue, it’s hard for those thoughts not to hit even harder. It’s how I feel about my own career at times! (But I am not the Simone Biles of anything I do/have done!)

My wife Justine was an intern for NBC at the London games, so getting her behind-the-scenes reports from those games were a highlight for me. And, of course, Justin Rose.

As Neil detailed on the recent TrapDraw Olympics extravaganza episode, he and I were very fortunate to have attended a bunch of events in ‘96 back in Atlanta (will hold my tongue and not go off on a Billy Payne-related rant). I was ten years old and Neil had just turned seven, and we’d just moved back from a couple of years living in Toronto a few weeks prior to the Opening Ceremonies, and the entire month of July was a massive party. It was surreal. Neil and my mom were there when Kerri Strug stuck the landing (I still contend hurt NOT injured), we went to a few Dream Team games, beach volleyball, table tennis, powerlifting, Greco-Roman wrestling, mountain biking (which was sick), equestrian, rhythmic dancing, swimming, diving, track and field, etc. Of all those events, there are three things seared in my memory - not necessarily favorites, but very much indelible: 1) Coca-Cola (Atlanta company!) had just come out with those Frozen Lemonades and I must’ve eaten ten of them during a day of attending beach volleyball and I think my taste buds were seared off after that for about a week. 2) Rushing down the driveway to get the Atlanta Journal-Constitution every morning to get the full recap and medal counts and the schedule for that day. And then when Sports Illustrated came midway through the games, that was just awesome. 3) Waking up the morning after the Centennial Park bombing. It was a rainy, dark morning and there was a general sense of panic and confusion on the news. We had tickets for both swimming and diving that day at the aquatic center, which was down by Georgia Tech. I remember my parents debating whether we should go and if it was safe down there, and as a family we basically came to the conclusion that “if we’re scared off from going to events from here on out then whoever did this is getting exactly what they wanted.” Simplistic? Sure. But we went down and had a great day. It was somber and muted, but I distinctly remember everyone holding their head high and determined to keep the party going the rest of the way. I have a complicated, convoluted relationship with Atlanta, but that day I was proud to be from there. Was it a well-run games? Absolutely not. Many of the venues were poorly planned and executed, the over-commercialization and number of vendors was tacky and stifling, and it was probably the tipping point for the Olympics really getting out of control with budgets and graft, but it did transform the city and defined a lot of the next decade-plus in the city and left a pretty big imprint on our lives.

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What’s the best Halloween costume you’ve ever come up with, either as a kid or as an adult?

12 years ago, some friends and I pulled off the Harlem Globetrotters pretty darn well. Headbands, wigs, armbands. That was easily the most attention I’ve ever gotten for a costume out at the Chicago bars. You would think that would have led to some sort of successful female encounter. It did not.

I had staples growing up: either Lane Frost or Troy Aikman. Lane was by far my favorite.

my wife and I got together, we realized we were the kind of dorks who liked doing couples costumes. One year we went as Burt Macklin and Janet Snakehole from Parks and Recreation and it was a delight to walk around the neighborhood and see maybe 10 percent of the other parents get it, but see their faces light up when they did catch on.

I dressed up like Jon Gruden for a Halloween party back in 2015 or 2016. I memorized a bunch of ridiculous play calls that I would repeat them in a Gruden voice all night. A couple classics: “Green right X, shift to viper right, 392 X stick looky” and “Scatter to west right tight, F left, 372 Y stick, X Spot” - I’ll tell ya what, that’s wild man!

 - My favorite that I did as an “adult” was Bleu Finnegan from the comic book Blue Monday. I wore it to work (I was a waitress at the time at the Johnny Rockets in Hoboken, NJ) - no one had any idea who I was supposed to be. I didn’t care. I loved the character and I only needed to buy a blue wig to make the outfit - everything else I could cobble out of my closet at the time. Side note - Blue Monday is a comic about a group of brit pop/anglophile high school friends in the early/mid 90s. Bleu is the main character, whose first real crush was on Adam Ant. Basically me, in a comic book.

I’ve ripped off my buddies' costume numerous time and it still gives me a chuckle to this day - a Tourist. Such a simple costume but it really hits. Fake camera around the neck, high socks with sandals, floral shirt, glasses. Such a good look and so simple.

- I (stayed at home and ate pizza) as Chun Li in 2020. Though a fictional character, Chun Li was a childhood hero of mine and I vowed to one day dress up as her. To keep the costs down, I ordered a Chun Li dress from Poshmark, and the dress arrived as good as new. The toughest part was her spiky bracelets, which I tried to DIY and gave up after three hours of hot glue gunning makeshift “steel” cones (I’m the WOAT at DIYs). It wasn’t perfect, but for a few hours, I felt like my hero, the strongest woman in the world – and that was worth every second of frustration.

Justine and I did a Richie/Margot Tenenbaum costume a few years ago that was pretty solid. I had a lot riding on that costume, financially and personally.

What's Burning At The Killhouse? August 2024 Check-In

I detailed the family vacation I took to Sweden and Denmark

On the back end of that, I went to Scotland for ten days during The Open to play and watch golf. I met my friend Dan Horner (aka “D-Block” aka “Ax Capital” aka “Nicholas Brody”) and we played nearly every round with Scots who are members at each club. Some of these hosts were Dan’s friends from the mid-am golf circuit, some were people we met along the way, and others were just folks who reached out via email or social after they saw we were in Scotland. Without fail, each person’s willingness to host, point out the intricacies on the course, answer a multitude of questions about the area and the club, and just spend quality time on the course reaffirmed everything I love about golf - the willingness to meet strangers and walk off the eighteenth green as friends, the personality of each club, and the couple of phrases or terms I pick up each trip and then repeat in perpetuity (more on that below.)

Here’s a down and dirty, train of thought summary of the trip, along with some lasting reflections…

This trip I flew into Edinburgh, as there were no directs from Stockholm into Glasgow. EDI is always a breeze until you leave the baggage claim in the customs area and make the interminable march to the rental car facility - this remains one of the more soul-crushing walks in all of golf. Driving on the left side of the road becomes less of a consideration with each passing trip to the UK or Australia, and over the last two years, I think I’ve banked seven weeks of experience on that side. This time, I really worked on roundabout skills and mastering when and where to signal in the course of those roundabouts. That said, something that always trips me up is the way that cars park in both directions along both sides of the road - this is disconcerting as often it counteracts other reminders to drive on the left when you’re hopping in the car. I’ve always appreciated road signs in the UK, particularly in Scotland. Simple terms like “Queues Likely” immediately transport me, and names like Kirk of Shotts, Windy-Yett, Crookedholm, and Coodham (I’m not even picking out unique names! - just listing places I passed on the way from EDI to Prestwick) put a smile on my face.

After a ninety-minute drive, I rocked up to Prestwick and met Dan out on the course around the eighth hole. We were hosted by a couple of delightful members (one of whom is a walking conundrum, a +3 handicap who plays Titleist T350 irons - that delighted me to no end!), and I feel like I understand golf and how/why it developed the way it did after playing Prestwick. Just a brilliant course, much more meaty than I anticipated, and grounded in hospitality and camaraderie between members. The place felt like the hub for the golf world during Open week.

We had a 36-hole day at Turnberry on Monday, with the King Robert the Bruce course in the morning. The “B-side” course at the club, it punched above its weight with a spectacular stretch in the middle, the thought-provoking combination of width and bunkering that messes with your eye and alters your depth perception, and a flatter linksland feel than its more-celebrated big brother. In the afternoon, The Ailsa was as good as advertised, and the DT-led changes to the course are brilliant (with the exception of a burn on 16 that feels needlessly artificial), with the stretch from 7 through 11 as picturesque as anything I’ve played worldwide. That said, this is not a course that I’d want to play every day - the walk is big, the dunes are huge, and the golf is more akin to Lahinch or Ballybunion than to other courses in Scotland - big and brooding and a bear if the wind is up. We had it on a placid day, so it’s likely we didn’t get the full experience. It was a bit surreal being at Turnberry less than 36 hours after the DT assassination attempt, especially in the midst of leaving the country for a month, and he was never far away, whether with reminders like gold-plated everything or crests or pictures.

On Tuesday morning, we headed over to Western Gailes and it was love at first sight. We had two excellent hosts and an atypical north wind, so the meat of the golf course was downwind and then we fought for dear life on the closing stretch. There wasn’t one hole that stood out, rather it was a collection of fully-realized holes that brought out the maximum effect of each little hump and dune and slight variation in the direction of play. It helped that I played well, but I can’t wait to return. I’ll also never forget the scent of the locker room - a century of damp cashmere and other whiffs of the distinguished club on a wet coastline. It’s a very complicated, visceral smell that suits the club well, much like the need to wear a coat and tie to and from the course. We were wiped and called off a round at Glasgow Gailes that afternoon to catch up on work, sleep and nourishment.

Wednesday morning arrived and we were refreshed and played Prestwick again. This time, I got the full experience with the quirky shot off the first tee and the Himalayas and then out toward Troon on the far end. After a wonderful lunch, we headed over to 

, which I won’t forget any time soon. A little scruffy in spots, but all the right James Braid stuff I revel in. Every hole is radically different from the last and the next: Bulkheads above bunkers, the train line running hard up against several of the holes (including one of the best short fours in all of Scotland,) and a warm atmosphere to boot. I can’t recommend this place highly enough, and for £120 for a day ticket, a worthwhile stop on a trip to the Ayrshire Coast.

On Thursday, we attended The Open. We marveled at the aircraft flying overhead into Prestwick Airport, watched various warmup sessions on the range, met up with old friends, and wandered around the course. This was my second year in a row attending The Open and I’m really impressed by the R&A’s infrastructure, build-out and general logistics plan. Troon was easy to get around, the food trucks and offerings were varied and colorful, and the whole experience felt like a celebration of golf.

That afternoon I ferried over to Arran that night with my friend Jim Hartsell, Jim’s son Jake, Bret Waldrep (who co-owns the Birdhouse at Sweetens Cove with us), our Arran friends Greg, Pam and Ewan (all of whom I met through Jim and are now dear friends, and all featured in 

), Ewan’s brother who was visiting from New Zealand, Ben Shaw (of “St. Rappeo” fame), and newly minted Scottish resident Ross Flannigan, our friend from Melbourne, Australia who made our most recent season of Tourist Sauce possible - a true cast of characters from all over the world. We had some ferry beers (which are at the top of the beer pyramid), followed by dinner at Corrie Hotel, and I attempted to hop on the pod that night despite Arran not exactly being a point of presence from a bandwidth standpoint. The three best nights of sleep I’ve had this year have been at the Corrie Hotel - open the window, get the room down around 60 degrees and listen to the waves of the Firth of Clyde softly lap against the shore. Heaven.

The next morning we headed just up the road to Sannox to play the nine-holer at Corrie. Ewan, in addition to leading the Arran Mountain Rescue outfit, is also the greenkeeper at Corrie, and had the greens absolutely firing and the pins in some cheeky spots. Corrie might as well be Narnia Golf Club. We popped into the brilliant Glen Sannox Tea Room for a bite of cake, then to the Wee Book Shop (which only sells books about Arran and Scottish mountaineering and travel and a few specially-curated titles) and had a glass of port with Tony the proprietor at 11am, then headed down to Blackwaterfoot for lunch in the “Tee Room” at Shiskine, and then out for a brilliant twelve-hole match with Greg and Jim and Jake in a HEAVY wind. If Corrie is Narnia Golf Club, then Shiskine is Middle Earth Country Club, and Stewart the legendary greenkeeper there had it in “great nick” and popped over as always to say hello, which was among the highlights of the entire ten days - his deep brogue, harsh goatee and passion for grass fill me up! After chatting with Hamish in the pro shop (another character who makes Shiskine more than just a golf course), we went to the pub at the Kinloch Hotel to watch the golf down in the town of Shiskine and then went back over to the other side of the island. I popped into a tiny little takeaway spot next to the Corrie Hotel called 

 and ended up having an unexpected five-course seafood experience with oysters from Gigha on the Mull of Kintyre, local lobster risotto, razor clams, mussels, and a variety of veggies from Arran. Afterward, I went over to convene with Sir Woofchester at the hotel and regale him with news of Randy’s new furry friend King Arthur, and then a dram of whiskey with Jim and Greg and Pam in the bar and another ethereal night of sleep.

I ferried back to Troon the next morning and KVV picked me up and we headed over to the course for Saturday’s action. Weather was BLEAK (but I still contend that it was not very windy!) and we were fortunate to luck into some hospitality badges courtesy of Mastercard. The hospitality scene at The Open is more elevated and detail-oriented than anything I’ve been to in the States (never been to Berckmans Place and imagine that would be the exception), with thoughtful menus and drink offerings, and each company’s chalet having its own design and personality. Tom Watson popped in for a bit and I talked to him about the upcoming renovation at Swope, the muni in his hometown of Kansas City, and we popped out for a few holes to follow the action but mostly watched on TV from the box because the weather was so bad, and then went home and did the pod, followed by dinner at Lido in Prestwick, which was a lifesaver during the week with later, more accommodating hours than you typically find in Scotland.

On Sunday morning Dan and I set off for East Lothian. We stopped at Musselburgh on the way over so Dan could see it and then played Dunbar with a couple of lovely members, and I after much thought, I think it is my favorite course I’ve played this year. The routing worked out along an ancient wall, and then back in sandwiched between that wall and the sea, the extended views of town, the holes themselves, and the warmth of the club and the pros working the shop. I’m sitting here a couple weeks later writing this and I’m just as enchanted as I was that day. We watched the back nine of the Open from the clubhouse with members, visitors from Germany and the Dominican Republic and fellow Americans, and then drove up the road to Gullane and checked into Greywalls for a few nights, which was cheaper than the Marine North Berwick. I did the pod and apologized profusely for my Xander takes. Greywalls is truly a trip - wildly stiff and stuffy, all sorts of scents, but also spectacular food and like staying at your grandparents' place, but if they were Scottish billionaires. Had a great bottle of wine on the back patio on Sunday night and stared out at Muirfield and across the Firth of Forth toward Fife.

Woke up Monday and played The Glen aka The North Berwick East Links, which was a really nice change of pace. Not as strong a layout as Dunbar or the West Links - more of a headland course than a true links, and an awkward walk in some spots, but some wildly fun holes and a wonderful host and a strong lunch in the clubhouse. We then shipped over to the West Links for a bluebird afternoon round with Seth and Thomas Sargent, Gordon Sargent’s dad and brother, and it was just as I remembered it. Spectacular afternoon with great company, and then post-round dinner and beers upstairs in the clubhouse.

The East and West Links of North Berwick, respectively.

The next morning we slept in, had a delightful chat at breakfast in the hotel with the actress Tracy Ullman, and enjoyed a long outside looking out over Muirfield. Then we took the scenic route up St Andrews, winding through Gullane (I’ve still never played any of the three courses there, nor stopped in at the hickory shop, nor hung out in town - need to change that), stopping at Kilspindie (wanted to show Dan and we decided we need to get back there and play hickories) and Ladybank (very intrigued by these Scottish parkland courses!) for a quick gander at each. Once we arrived in St Andrews, I popped into the 

 to get a proper espresso (the coffee scene in Scotland leaves me wanting, often), a stop at Donaldson’s for a pastry, and then into 

, then lunch at the R&A with a nice adventure through the world class winelist, and a 5:40pm tee time on the Old for Dan’s first time actually playing the Old. He’d caddied it several times during the Dunhill, walked it a bunch during the Walker Cup, but never actually hit all the shots. To see his eyes light up on seven, and eleven, and fourteen, and sixteen, and chasing the sun on the way in…was just a really nice evening. We finished up in the dark with a couple of guys visiting from Kenya and South Africa, cellphone flashlights lighting the way the last hole and a half. After a stop at the go-to St Andrews Shawarma Shop, we had a late-night drive back to Gullane.

Always fun to see friends’ books in the window at the store.

Borrowed a coat and tie for a couple of lunches. By this point in the trip I was struggling for clean clothes, much less stuff that matched.

We woke up the next morning, walked next door, and did the 36-hole day at Muirfield, the lunch in between, both rounds alt-shot, great host and company, the whole deal. I’ll save this for its own full write-up, but I’ll just say that there’s a case to be made that Muirfield is the best golf course in the world. It’s going to take a few weeks to fully unpack and reflect on the experience and all of the various creatures there.

Greywalls & the only pic I’ve got from Muirfield (which means it was an epic day)

We stayed at an Edinburgh Airport hotel that night and I woke up for a 5:50am flight to Frankfurt, and then onward to IAD, and JAX. The captain came on with a truly unbelievable message:

Somehow we ended up getting out within a couple of hours (the captain under-promised and over-delivered!) and then got in and out of Frankfurt in time to make my connection at Dulles. Truly a Star Alliance miracle!

Golf and/or Scotland-related observations in no particular order:

Many of the Scots we played with tend to play a lot of links golf in the winter (drains well/stays drier) and then when summer rolls around they seek out parkland rounds. Looking around Ladybank reminded me of some of the courses I’ve loved in Sweden and makes me want to play more Scottish parkland courses.

On the agenda for future trips: Goswick, Southerness, Siloth on Solway, Stranraer, Archerfield, Luffness, Bruntsfield Links short course, back to Dunbar! Fraserburgh and Royal Aberdeen continue to be big blind spots for me, too. Durness and The Machrie and Isle of Harris and Gigha are all of interest, too. Looks like I’ll be returning to Scotland every year for the foreseeable future and then trying to fold in some England trips, too.

Sometimes it doesn’t seem like you’re in nature when you’re playing golf in the States beyond, but it’s always readily apparent in Scotland. The birds, the wildflowers and thistle blooming, the sea air, and the long evenings all add up to something substantive that goes well-beyond anything I’ve experienced in the states outside of select rounds on the Pacific Coast or in Nebraska or Michigan. Thinking about it, for a month straight, I spent at least six hours and sometimes as many as fourteen hours per day outside in nature. So far at home, I’ve managed to keep that up.

It’s been a wet year all over Scotland - the courses are lush and green, but I think that should set up for a healthy fall with everything in great condition. Coastal erosion becoming more pronounced in many spots after a spate of bad storms.

Across Sweden and Scotland, there’s a healthy sense of thrift and frugality that I’d like to incorporate more into my everyday life. The value of a pound or a krona is very much top of my mind, and unnecessary fees or superfluous charges simply aren’t tolerated. There’s just less bullshit.

Scots tend not to explore their own country enough. The number of people I chatted with over the last 10 days who have lived in Ayrshire or Glasgow their entire lives and have never played Shiskine or Macrihanish, or been up to Dornoch, astounded me. Each time I come back, I try not to stretch myself too thin but also try to knock off some new stuff and dig a level deeper in each region.

On the flip side, I think Americans are perhaps too focused on the links courses here at the expense of some really unique and eye-catching inland stuff. The Scots play the links all winter.

A rundown of various consumption and observations recently:

Giannis documentary - DJ recommended this and I loved it. What a bright light in a depressing world of professional sports.

Meeting Tracy Ullman reminded me that I hadn’t yet watched the final season of Curb, which I knocked out on the long flight home. Loved it - got better and better as it went along.

Various bottled drinks in Sweden and Scotland, all of which had a cap attached to the bottle (I believe a recent EU mandate.) Many people are bitching about this over there, but I loved it. No need to worry about losing the cap, and various ways to fold it over. Big fan.

Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen at IAH is quickly becoming my go-to airport restaurant.

A close second is the “Asian Kitchen” at SAN, specifically the shrimp and chicken lettuce wraps. Maybe the perfect airport food - clean, healthy, portable, delicious.

I used an induction range to cook a few times when we were in Sweden and it was, without a doubt, the most unpleasant cooking experience of my life. I felt like I was doing math and technical troubleshooting the entire time just to keep it on and at the right temps. I’m really bummed that’s the way the world is going.

I had a bunch of people making fun of my Crocs on various socials recently. I stand by them. Sport mode forever.

 continues to garner a bunch of notoriety lately, but I’ve been doing this for years on a variety of domestic flights. Highly recommend it as a way to really lock in, center yourself, and get in touch with that in-flight map.

Other good features of note lately from admittedly haughty/coastal elite publications (/sorry):

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 14 (TC)

Earlier this year, I grabbed Xander Schauffele as he was leaving the driving range at Riviera Country Club and asked him what must have felt like a random question: What’s the most memorably bad shot he can remember hitting?

He thought about it for a few seconds before landing on a definitive answer.

“I remember I was trying to get a college scholarship and I topped my tee shot in front of like six college coaches,” Schauffele said. “I remember looking up at them, trying not to stare at them, being like ‘This is really embarrassing. I probably just blew my chances of getting a scholarship anywhere.’”

The road to becoming a great golfer is rarely a linear path, and Schauffele is a good reminder of how silly it is to make definitive statements about someone’s potential, even though that kind of punditry plays better than nuance or restraint.

Schauffele didn’t exactly blow his chances of getting a scholarship, but for whatever reason, the biggest programs in college golf did shy away. He ended up at Long Beach State for a year, then transferred to San Diego State, where he became a third-team All-American. He was a decent prospect, eventually ranking in the Top 10 of the World Amateur Golf Rankings before he turned professional, but hardly a prodigy. In the first round of the 2014 U.S. Amateur, Schauffele lost 7&6 to Justin Tereshko, someone who ultimately never even tried to turn professional, and is now the head coach at Eastern Kentucky University.

Schauffele, however, gradually got better, earning his way onto the PGA Tour (just barely) in 2016 through the Web.com Tour Finals. He won twice that year and was the PGA Tour Rookie of the Year in 2016. He won the Tour Championship in 2017, a gold medal at the Olympics in 2020, and he finished in the Top 10 in nine of the first 18 majors he played in.

But along the way, something interesting happened: He started to take heat for being good, but never great. His consistency was weaponized against him.

Here is what one moronic pundit had to say after Rory McIlroy boat-raced Schauffele in the final round of the Wells Fargo earlier this year:

“I would go home right now if I were Xander and I would say ‘I don’t know if I’ve got it. I don’t know that I’m good enough to win against the best of the best. It would be kind of deflating and humiliating. I don’t want to pick on Xander, but he just never shows me something special.”

By the way, that moronic pundit? That was me.

I’m a big believer that if you offer a fiery take about someone, you can’t pretend it doesn’t exist when it is no longer supported by evidence.

This summer has been a necessary reminder that we probably shouldn’t shit on golfers when they are consistently good, but fail to break through and win. It wasn’t a character flaw that Schauffele didn’t win a major until this year, but it was frequently framed as one by people like me for the sake of argument.

“I don't think I'd ever look at it as lacking,” Schauffele said after he won the PGA Championship. “I looked at it as someone that is trying really hard and needs more experience. All those close calls for me, even last week, that sort of feeling, it gets to you at some point. It just makes this even sweeter.”

There are echoes of that fallacy in the idea that LeBron James' record in the Finals (4-6) can only be held against him in the GOAT debate. Michael Jordan, after all, went 6-0 in the Finals. He never lost, and James lost six times. But once you think about the logic of it, it falls apart. Wouldn’t Michael Jordan have loved 

 chances at a ring? Why are all those times he lost to the Boston Celtics or Detroit Pistons in the Eastern Conference playoffs not held against him?

Putting yourself in contention is a good thing, even if it means it hurts a little more when you don’t finish first.

If anything, McIlroy might look at Schauffele’s two majors this year and feel like he’s on the right path, despite mounting criticism. He keeps putting himself in contention, and with a few different bounces, he could easily have won three majors (St. Andrews, LACC, Pinehurst) where he came up just short. Does that mean it will happen? Certainly not. In fact, Schauffele might be a better bet at this point to win the career Grand Slam than McIlroy. But McIlroy could also smash through a decade of disappointment and win two majors next year, and it wouldn’t feel all that surprising. Suddenly, all those near misses would feel like context.

I thought about all of this over the weekend when I watched my friend Lauren Coughlin win for the first time on the LPGA Tour at age 31.

There have been a lot of times during the last five years when Coughlin could have given up the dream of professional golf, when it would have made sense to stop burning through money traveling to tournaments on the Symetra Tour and begin the next phase of her life. Like Schauffele, she’d been a good college player, she’d won some tournaments, but other golfers got the sponsorship dollars and playing opportunities. Coughlin did not.

But every step of the way, when people assumed she’d maxed out her potential, she kept making incremental progress.

“Just don't give up,” Coughlin said Sunday, when asked if she had an overarching message for junior golfers. “Just because you're not good from 12 years old, doesn't mean you won't be good at 25 or 30.”

Not only did Coughlin believe this day would eventually arrive, so did the people around her. And as I watched the final holes of the Canadian Open, I thought about them, too.

In 2022, Coughlin’s husband John Pond and I sat on the putting green at Jacksonville Beach Golf Club, drinking bourbon late into the evening, listening to the glorious madness of No Laying Up’s Nest Invitational Tournament play out in the cart barn a few hundred yards away. A couple of burly ex-football players with janky golf swings wanted a quiet moment to reflect on matters big and small, and so for an hour, we drank by ourselves and talked about what the future might hold.

“I know she’s going to win,” Pond said. “She’s so close. I’m just worried I won’t be there when it happens, and it’s going to kill me.”

Pond ultimately decided to quit his job at the University of Virginia and go out on the road with his wife, caddying for her in stints as she looked for a full-time looper. (She eventually found one in Terry McNamara.) They knew it was a leap of faith, that money might get tight, but it was one they needed to take together. At the Masters this year, Pond and Coughlin and I spent the day walking the grounds, laughing and drinking beers together, and I told John I wanted him to consider writing about what it was like to caddy for his wife.

He warned me that 8,000 words might arrive in my inbox in the middle of the night, and I said I couldn’t wait for the day when it did.

That essay hasn’t arrived (yet), but I’m not sure words could paint a better scene than what played out on Sunday. I was nervous for Lauren throughout the back nine, but I teared up when the cameras cut to Pond waiting behind the 18th green at the Earl Grey Golf Club with a bottle of champagne, ready to douse Coughlin in victory.

When you believe in people, you have to risk something for yourself, too. To see that risk pay off, to see my two friends celebrate their faith in each other — was my favorite moment in golf this year.

Anyone who follows me on social media knows I’m not shy when it comes to sharing snippets of my daughter Keegan’s golf swing and our shared love of the game. Her swing has all the grace and tempo that mine lacks, and watching her navigate her way through various stages of junior golf the past few years has been one of the most enjoyable parts of my life.

I’m also very conscious of the false reality that Instagram can convey, and how easy it is to pretend like everything is wonderful and everyone is happy. We tend to filter out difficult moments when we share our lives with the world, and that’s true whether you have 10 followers or 10,000. I think it’s important to debunk that myth from time to time, which is why I’m sharing this story about our experience trying to qualify for the Drive, Chip and Putt this year.

Drive, Chip and Putt is, for the most part, a wonderful thing. I do think the initiative has increased youth participation in golf, and it’s awesome that this year, Akshay Bhatia became the first Drive, Chip and Putt alum to make it back to Augusta by earning a spot in the Masters.

It’s also become a tremendous source of anxiety in our household.

The first year Keegan entered the competition, at age 10, she advanced by finishing third in her local qualifier. I was as shocked as anyone. She didn’t advance through the sub-regional, but it set the stakes for her expectations going forward. Every year, she figured, she’d make a little progress and maybe someday she’d have a real shot at getting to Augusta. Who is to say she shouldn’t dream big?

Unfortunately, not all progress (as we’ve learned) is linear.

She didn’t make it through her regional qualifier in 2023, let down by a bout of nervous chipping, and she was devastated by the result. She cried in my arms in the clubhouse, and vowed to spend the entire year working on her short game, insisting that it would be different the next time.

I expected it to be different this year, too. Everything about her short game is better, and the hours she put in (all on her own) had her feeling confident and ready when we showed up for her regional qualifier at Cattail Creek Country Club last week.

The nervous chipping returned, sadly. (I’m reluctant to tell her it might be my genes she needs to overcome.) It became obvious, to us both, that she wasn’t going to advance once her final chip drifted outside the largest circle, and to her, it felt like a year of hard work had been all for naught. She is an emotional player, and occasionally those emotions work against her. She sat cross-legged next to the practice green, pulled her hat down low, and tried like hell to keep from crying.

It’s hard to know what to do as a parent in those situations. You understand, on a rational level, that disappointment is part of growing up, that learning to cope with it can be a tremendous life lesson. But as a dad, you also want to hug the pain away. I’ve found myself questioning, in those moments, why I ever introduced her to such a maddening sport. When I wrote about the challenge of 

passing along golf to her in a piece for the Western Golf Association

, it was actually Lauren who texted me after it ran to reassure me that this was all normal.

“Just keep being there! I argued with my dad so much about golf when I was a teenager. It’s normal! It’ll be memories forever with you two.”

All you really can do is tell your kid you’re proud of them for putting themselves in the arena. It hurts to fail, but that hurt can also lead to great things. Schauffele and Coughlin are real-life examples of it.

When I got home that night, I noticed someone had sent me a DM on Twitter. It was a picture of me, crouching down to whisper to Keegan that I loved her and that I was proud of her. The person who had taken it recognized me from my work at NLU, but wanted to give us some space. The more I stared at it, the more I appreciated it. I decided it would be worth sharing here, even though it was a painful memory, because sometimes filtering out all the sad experiences from what we share with the world makes it seem like we ought to be ashamed of our disappointments. It’s probably healthier if we talk about how universal they can be.

My colleague D.J. Piehowski used this space a few weeks ago to share his reluctant assessment that Season 3 of “The Bear” — which was the subject of not one but TWO episodes of Perfect Club — kind of sucked. “It felt like revving the gas on a car stuck in neutral.”

 and fans, including our friend Shane Ryan, who began the year with the highest of hopes and then 

I recognize, respect and acknowledge these POVs, but I’d like to offer up what now feels like a contrarian take on the season. I enjoyed it! The issues that seem to have bothered many viewers actually felt like a very deliberate choice by the showrunner Christopher Storer, and I came to think of the season more as an experimental mood piece than I did something lacking a narrative engine. If this was an album by Radiohead, I’m fairly certain people would see it as a transcendent piece of art instead of a masturbatory showcase of Chicago cinematography and mid-90s needle drops.

I don’t think the show should be immune from criticism. I was reminded, at times, of George R. R. Martin spending hundreds of pages delving into complicated backstories of minor characters instead of doing what everyone really wants, moving the plot forward. But I also think that real life often moves at a meandering — and at times maddening — pace.

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 13 (KVV)

Greetings from Frankfurt. A dream trip is drawing to a close, or at least trying to. As we were preparing to board the flight from Edinburgh to Frankfurt this morning around 5:30 am local time, the pilot made an announcement at the boarding area to the effect of “I’m not sure if you’ve seen the news yet, but the Frankfurt airport is completely shut down.” My mind immediately went to tragic possibilities. Instead, I was relieved (I guess?) to learn 

that environmental protestors had intruded the perimeter and glued themselves to the runway

. Outrageous! It felt like a game of TrapDraw bingo and something that Randy and I would be gleefully covering in the natural course of a Chop Session. Thankfully, the Germans dealt with it swiftly and things are back on schedule after a moderate delay.


Today marks one month away from the US and judging by the news and the weather across much of the country over that time, I picked a great time to leave. This column will be more of a notebook dump than some of the previous iterations of this column, and intersperse golf and personal travels throughout. I get a lot of travel questions and requests for advice on itineraries and such, so I’d like to flesh this out more once I have time, but for now, here’s a brief overview of where I’ve been and some observations from along the way.

We set off JAX-IAD-MUC-ARN on June 25th. This was our first international flight with the kiddos and they did wonderfully. Explaining to Freddie how time zones work, talking about the map and why we were flying so far north, and pointing out different planes to Freddie and Gustav was a highlight. We also got to fly upstairs on the A380, so going up the stairs on the plane when we boarded was a thrill for him. With the connection in Munich, we didn’t arrive in Sweden until mid-afternoon, which was actually ideal as we could head to the hotel straight away and then not have to keep the kids up for 12-14 hours to get them on schedule.

Gustav refuses to wear anything that isn’t a sports jersey, so we hacked this during our trip and started buying him nice-looking European soccer jerseys once we got there.

It was hot in Stockholm when we arrived - a high of 85 Fahrenheit - and people were apoplectic about the “heat wave.” We’d decided to stay in Södermalm, which is a bit like the Swedish version of Brooklyn, and booked the 

, both for value and proximity to a great park across the street. Within twenty minutes of arriving, Freddie was playing soccer with a neighborhood kid around his age across the street in the park and within an hour or so they’d arranged (in English, which most Swedes speak better than Americans do) to meet the next day at 6 p.m. That made me really happy. It showed the power of sports and the perks of being a kid (it’s also one of the things I love about golf - I feel like I get the adult version of this often.) We hung out in Stockholm for a few days, ate a bunch of ice cream and Toast Skagen, went to a lot of parks, visited the Gröna Lund amusement park in the city, and picked up Freddie and Gustav’s Swedish passports. I cannot emphasize enough 1) how bad Gustav was at the police station where we had to fill out all the paperwork and get pictures taken and 2) how patient my wife Alex was with him - she is a saint!

After a few days, we headed out to meet up with Ann & T (Alex’s aunt and her fiance, both of whom featured prominently in 

) at a house out in the Stockholm Archipelago near Värmdö. We played a little golf, ate some delicious food, and enjoyed a couple of long Swedish summer evenings by the water.

On Sunday, we set off for Copenhagen by train. Sweden lags other European countries as far as their train infrastructure and high-speed rail network, but it was a nice journey - about five hours - southward to Lund, and then onward to Copenhagen. We’d found an Airbnb right next to the royal palace and it was perfect. There was a great park a block away and close enough to the action, but also quiet and peaceful. We made a couple of visits to Tivoli Gardens - I am not an amusement park guy, but it is AWESOME. Truly a mix of gardens and rides, and great for all ages, not just kids who are of a minimum height. 

, and then I heeded a couple of DJ Pie’s recommendations and visited 

 and they were SPOT-ON. Barabba was among the best meals I’ve eaten this year. Sanchez, Propaganda, and Restaurant Iluka were also worth of a mention. We went to a wonderful science museum, a bunch of other parks, rented a boat, took a guided boat tour, and explored the city at leisure for four days. The way that Scandinavians, and especially Danes, treat children is something that warmed my heart. It truly felt as if they were valued and welcome everywhere we went, whether a coffee shop or a Michelin-starred restaurant. And the variety of parks was eye-opening, with various swings, slides, salvaged cars, and other flourishes.

On Friday, we took the train back up to Stockholm and headed back out to the archipelago, this time farther southeast, to an island called Algö (aka Moose Island) and rented a spectacular Airbnb that felt radically underpriced. One of Alex’s cousins came down from Upsala with her husband for a night, my parents flew in on Sunday, and we generally just vegged out on the back deck and ate, drank, hot tubbed and sauna’d for three days. On Tuesday, we headed back into the city and stayed in Östermalm right on the water. We took an archipelago cruise that morning, took the kids to the Vasa Museum, and walked around the city and visited a variety of parks.

Alex and the kids left on Thursday morning, and then I stayed with Ann & T until departing for Scotland on Sunday. Over the next few days, they took me to a few of the best restaurants in Stockholm, some new, some institutions, and we played a little golf. I also got a much-needed haircut (my second of the trip) in an excellent barbershop. This is a tradition I’ve adopted from Neil and is a fun diversion and a good chance at off-beat conversation.

On Thursday night we enjoyed an exceptional dinner at Ann & T’s place with my parents and they stayed up well past midnight, which is far later than I’ve seen from them in recent years. Ann made a traditional Swedish shrimp appetizer, T made his favorite Persian dish - a rice and tomato-based chicken dish that had about 37 different levels of depth and flavor, and then fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. Peg and Steve set off on their cruise a couple of days later (and are loving it!)

Writing

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 15 (KVV)

What's Burning At The Killhouse? August 2024 Check-In

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 14 (TC)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 13 (KVV)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 12 (TC)

The Open 2024: Scenes from Xander Schauffele's Victory

The Open 2024: Every Reason to Get Out of Bed Early Sunday Morning

A Plea to the Postage Stamp

Three Things I Learned from 48 Hours in Troon

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 11 (Cody)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 10 (D.J.)

KVV Mailbag: Ranking One-Time Major Winners, Training Aid Update and More

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 9 (Neil)

Nest Member Exclusive: Titleist GT Fitting Events

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 8 (TC)

By the Minute: The Back Nine at the 2024 U.S. Open

Bryson DeChambeau's Magnum Opus

Five Observations from Friday at the U.S. Open