TROON — There are years when the final day of the Open Championship can be a bit of a bore. It usually occurs when someone is playing steady-yet-surreal golf, and the weather is essentially benign. You know they’re likely going to hold on. Brian Harman’s triumph at Royal Liverpool immediately comes to mind. Louis Oosthuizen’s runaway win at St. Andrews would be another example. If you’re watching from the United States, you can smash the snooze button a few times.

And then there are years when you need to get your ass out of bed and make sure you don't miss any of what’s about to unfold.

I can’t tell you what’s going to happen on Sunday (and if I could, I’d pivot to running a gambling hotline) but there is a chance we might be on the cusp of a wild and entertaining final round. Potentially an all-timer for a Sunday. If you need any extra incentive to get in front of your TV before the sun comes up, here are five scenarios that could potentially play out.

 In a world of robotic golfers, Horschel is like a cocaine bump of frenetic energy. (Editor’s Note for my parents and children: I have never done cocaine.) When he’s not fidgeting and fussing, he’s flushing his irons. I have no idea if Horschel can hold on and win. The only time he’s ever been in a position like this was the 2013 U.S. Open at Merion when he started the final round only two shots behind Phil Mickelson but bogeyed three of the first five holes to fall out of contention. But it’s hard to give too much credence to something that happened more than a decade ago. He could shoot 66 tomorrow or 81. I have no idea which is more likely, and Horschel probably doesn’t either. What we do know about Horschel is that he wears all his emotions on his chest. 

Go watch his weepy flash interview from a year ago after he shot 84 at the Memorial.

 I cannot stress how many professional golfers would blow off media after a round like that, and Horschel instead used it like a therapy session. He’s never been afraid to be vulnerable, even if it means people will use it against him. Does it seem, most of the time, like Horschel is pandering to the camera? Yes. Is he a bit of a cornball? Sure. As my colleague Neil said last night on the Live Show, Horschel is awesome but he is also exhausting. No one works harder than Billy, and Billy is happy to let you know that. I’m ready to lean into the part of him that’s awesome — the baton-twirling, gum-chewing, bogey-cussing, ball of energy. If this is his moment, the road he’s traveled to get here has been a joy to witness. He and his wife Brittany speaking up in 

 was truly courageous, and it’s hard to imagine a more emotional winner than him on Sunday. “I've worked my entire life to be in this position,” Horschel said. “I know what it means to my legacy in the game of golf and what I want to do and accomplish. I've wanted to be here my entire life. I'm finally here. I'm embracing it. I've wanted to be here my entire life. I'm finally here. I'm embracing it.”

2. XANDER SCHAUFFELE WINNING HIS SECOND MAJOR OF 2024.

It’s no secret that me and the rest of my NLU colleagues didn’t think much of the setup at the PGA Championship at Valhalla, and that made it hard to appreciate Schauffele’s accomplishment. Yes, he won a major. But it felt about as significant as a signature event. There was no danger lurking, and all Schauffele had to do was step on the gas. He also benefited from the strange circumstances that knocked Scottie Scheffler off his game in the middle of the week. The year’s final major is the exact opposite. There is a calamity lurking on every hole, yet he feels like the most unflappable player in the field. If Xander wins this week, it’s just more proof that he’s taken what he’s learned working with Chris Como and reached another level. I was dismissive of Schauffele when Rory McIlroy boat raced him in Charlotte this year at the Wells Fargo, but now that result seems meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I thought Xander would remain the same house cat he’s been for years, but right now he is (in my mind) the favorite to grab the Claret Jug. Two majors in one season, something that hasn't been done since Brooks Koepka did it in 2018, would permanently stamp Schauffele’s place in history. “I'll let myself dream tonight,” Schauffele said. “But it would be very nice.”

Page Break

There are few things I love more than watching a venerable European player mount one last charge at glory when he’s in his 40s. If we’re being honest about Rose, it feels like he should have won more majors. His U.S. Open victory at Merion in 2013 was special, but the fact that he’s never nabbed a second makes it feel like he underachieved. This is almost certainly his last real chance. But if he 

 to win, it would essentially erase whatever past disappointments he’s had and cement his legacy. He can be ornery and off-putting on the golf course, but he is also thoughtful and kind when he steps outside the ropes, and it’s easy to imagine the Scottish fans showering him with support the way they did when he holed a clutch 6-footer for par on 18 Saturday to save a shot. It’s hard for Rose to put into words what an Open Championship would mean to him at this stage of his career, but there’s little doubt it would be the most satisfying win of his career. “It's still my dream,” Rose said. “In a few years, it'll be someone else's dream. But yeah, still my dream right now. Great opportunity to go live it out tomorrow.”

4. SCOTTIE SCHEFFLER WINS HIS SECOND MAJOR IN 2024.

Statistically, Scheffler is already having one of the greatest seasons of all time. He has been an artist who produces a ball flight to pure and repeatable, if you didn’t see his feet flying in strange directions after impact, you’d think it was hit by a robot. But by playing at a level we haven’t seen since Tiger Woods in his prime, Scheffler managed to raise expectations to a level where only one major in 2024 would carry a whiff of disappointment. He can turn a great season into one for the history books with a great round Sunday, but his putter needs to heat up to do it. On Saturday, he looked every bit like the most disciplined, creative player alive until he got to the greens, where he lost -3.06 shots on the greens. Yes, it looks like he’s wearing an oversized garbage bag that someone cut arm holes into when it rains. And yes, his putter makes you uncomfortable when he’s standing over a 5 footer for par. But if Scheffler is going to make a real run at a double-digit total for majors, this is the kind of opportunity he can’t let slip away. His third career major is right there within his grasp. “​​I think that was probably the hardest nine holes that I'll ever play,” Scheffler said. “It can be frustrating, but I felt like today was another one of those days where I just did a really good job of not getting overly frustrated, staying in a good head space and did a good job of really staying in the tournament.”

5. WE GET AN UNLIKELY WINNER FROM ONE OF THE REMAINING NAMES NEAR THE TOP OF THE BOARD.

Does Sam Burns really have the game to win a major championship? Before this week, I would not have said yes, but Burns has displayed as much grit as anyone. He was +7 after 11 holes on Thursday, but rallied a bit and posted 76. He followed it up with rounds of 69 and 65, and how he has a real chance to join his best friend Scheffler in the club of majors winners. I must confess, I did not see this coming. He’s certainly benefited from a good part of the draw (his 65 came in ideal scoring conditions) but sometimes that’s how the Open Championship works. The sun shines on certain people and not others. When Burns finished at 3-under, he was still far enough back that the media spent much of Burns’s time in front of a microphone asking questions about Shany Lowry. By the time Lowry finished (after shooting 77), Burns was two shots ahead of him.

I would have said the same thing about Thriston Lawrence, had I known who Thriston Lawrence was. I confess I was not familiar with his game, at least until Saturday when he surged up the leaderboard with a 30 on the front nine. Nothing about his game to me suggests he’s capable of winning, but crazy stuff happens often at the Open.

“I'm going to just try to do the same thing, be aggressive and try to win a golf tournament,” Lawrence said.

If Burns or Lawrence isn’t your cup of tea (or pint of beer), there are still plenty of other underdogs to root for. Maybe it’s Russell Henley, an unassuming American player who has won just four times on the PGA Tour and hasn’t ever contended in a major prior to this weekend.

“I don't know how many more of these I'll get to play in, hopefully a lot,” Henley said.

Maybe you can’t resist watching Dan Brown sneak cigarettes between holes, trying to hide his habit from his parents. Brown, the 272nd-ranked player in the world, has refused to go away since he shot a first-round 65, and is just one shot off Horschel’s lead, tied with Rose, Burns, Schauffele, Lawrence and Henley.

“I suppose a lot of people probably thought I was going to be shaking this morning and really nervous, but I've been absolutely fine,” Brown said. “I didn't know last night if I was going to wake up this morning, be nervous, sweaty, whatever it might be, but I think I felt all right, and I think I'll feel all right tomorrow.”

Lastly, there is Shane Lowry, the man who at one point on Saturday looked like he might be cruising to his second Open Championship. What a scene it would be, people started to muse, if Lowry could return to Royal Portrush next year as the defending champion of the Open. That dream isn’t dead quite yet, but it’s hanging by a thread after a deflating 77 in Round 3.

“This is going to take me a couple hours to get over today,” Lowry grumbled.

Whatever unfolds, we have a chance to witness a wild and memorable Sunday, maybe one of the wildest at a major since the 2021 PGA Championship at Southern Hills.

Did I forget to mention Justin Thomas? Don’t worry, he’s obviously too far back. Trust me, I’m never wrong about this stuff.

Kevin Van Valkenburg is the Editorial Director of No Laying Up

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

TROON — If you can spare a prayer to the golfing gods this morning, ask if one simple wish might be granted for the final two rounds of the Open Championship.

I’m not talking about a gentle-but-steady breeze or even an orchestra of intermittent gusts. Those scenarios would be enjoyable, but also — for the most part — unmemorable.

What I’m asking for, in the year’s final major, is a symphony of chaos.

I want the Postage Stamp, Royal Troon’s venerable 8th hole, to continue to flummox, terrify and paralyze the world’s best golfers. I want to see them stand on the tee, with their shirt and pants rippling in the breeze, looking frozen with doubt.

It’s such a benign little hole without the wind. A flip wedge and an easy look at birdie. But when the wind whips, when it howls in either direction, it is as fun to watch as any hole in the world.

I spent much of my Friday posted up at the Postage Stamp, watching the frustration and torment play out as waves of players came through. At first, there wasn’t much to see, just a litany of wedges aimed at the middle of the green. I grabbed a few pints and enjoyed the Scottish sunshine. But as the afternoon progressed, something exquisite unfolded. The wind began to hum with the intensity of a rock concert.

The often-gentle 120-yard Par 3 — one of the shortest holes that professional golfers will play this season — started to show its teeth. Balls aimed at the left edge of the green floated into the right bunker. Balls hit at the middle of the green with cut spin never stood a chance. Players grimaced and grumbled and bitched and moaned. Joaquin Niemann came to the Postage Stamp playing some of the best golf at Troon, and left with an 8, his first, second, third and fourth shots finding a bunker.

“Oh god, what can I say?” Jon Rahm said, when I asked him how hard the 8th was playing on Friday when his group came through. “I think it’s just a testament to how great a design that hole is.”

Nothing in golf is as humbling as the wind, and nowhere is that more apparent than on a tiny hole like Troon’s 8th. It requires a thoughtful strategy, and a specific shot into a specific wind, instead of blunt force, which is why it tormented so many groups when the wind began to buck.

“It's just so hard to trust the wind,” Niemann said. “You've got to hit a wedge shot where you've got to take some off. You've got to hit a draw because the wind is pretty strong on the left, and also you don't want to be in that left bunker. I probably started too far right. I'm not used to hit draws when I take a wedge off. So in that aspect, it's a tough shot for me. I'm going to go try to practice that shot and try to get it dialed in for (Saturday).”

Niemann’s quintuple bogey was essentially like watching someone fall down a flight of stairs in slow motion. His first shot ended up in the right bunker, the most common miss of the day. (42 balls came to rest there on Friday.) But the real trouble began when he hit his second into the Coffin Bunker on the left side of the green.

“I had a great lie, and I thought I was going to be able to put out the shot,” Niemann said.

“I ended up being in my own divot,” Niemann said.

From there, he made the prudent but painful decision to pitch out backward, back in the direction of the tee. But the genius of the Postage Stamp is there is no safe harbor there either. Neimann’s ball trickled into the front bunker.

At this point, Niemann was in such a state, he experienced something most amateurs can relate to. He lost track of how many shots he’d hit.

“I was going to start counting what I did, but I just stopped and I didn't count,” Niemann said. “I just saw the scoreboard on the next hole, and whatever comes, it comes.”

Niemann wasn’t the only player to feel the Postage Stamp’s bite. Tom Kim visited all three bunkers that Niemann did, although he was able to salvage a double bogey with a nice up-and-down front bunker.

Rahm’s tee shot found the right bunker, but he proved there was an artful escape possible. He hit his bunker shot past the pin, toward the Coffin Bunker, but used the slope to bring the ball back toward the hole and give himself a makeable par putt. He had to take on the risk of hitting his second shot in the Coffin Bunker, but that’s part of what makes it a great hole.

“That coffin on the left, it makes its presence felt, and with that wind today, you know you have to start it left,” Rahm said. “But it was just very difficult to do. In my case, I tried to hold a pitching wedge and drove it towards that bunker, and the second it got past the grandstands, no chance. But if you don’t get really lucky in the bunker, to that pin, it's somewhat doable because you have that backstop, and that's what me and Bob MacIntyre did. You just hit it up high, and hopefully, it comes back close enough to make a putt.”

The hole actually played a bit harder on Thursday than it did on Friday, when 20 players made double. (Only seven made double or worse on Friday.) That was only because it played fairly benign for the early part of the day. For nearly three hours on Friday, no one made a single birdie, which got me thinking about something Scottie Scheffler said earlier in the week.

“I think No. 8 is great,” Scheffler said. “I get frustrated sometimes when the solution to distance is just making holes further and further, and then it only just encourages guys to try to hit the ball further and further and not worry as much about controlling your ball. No. 8 is a good little way to almost step back in time and control your ball a bit more. You don't have to make a par-3 230 yards to make it a great hole. It can be 120 yards.”

Scheffler continued: What are considered the best Par 3s in the world? It’s shorter holes like No. 12 at Augusta and No. 17 at Sawgrass.

“I think great little short holes like that are fun,” he said. “I think it's an underrated skill for guys nowadays to be able to control your ball, and I think it's something we need to encourage in our game, not just building golf courses longer and longer. You can make a short hole with a small green, and it's pretty dang tough.”

We had a strong and steady wind on Thursday, when the Postage Stamp was the 5th hardest hole on the course. It was so menacing, it even drove Frenchman Romain Langasque to withdraw. He hit his first shot 20 yards short of the green into the rough, tried to hit a pitch and grimaced in pain. He immediately took off his hat and went to shake hands with his playing partners. He’d had enough, withdrawing with a back injury.

It’s such a mental and physical test, that players can’t resist inventing scenarios to explain away their mistakes. When Justin Rose found the bunker on Thursday, he was convinced it was the fault of someone other than Justin Rose.

“Right in my backswing, someone must have dropped an umbrella or something,” he said. “I came out of the shot a little bit and with the wind off the left, you’re not going to get away with it on that particular hole. Once you’re in the bunker down there, anything can happen.”

But then the wind died down Friday morning, and it didn’t pick up until mid-afternoon. The caveat to the Postage Stamp is we need the wind to live up to its vicious potential. Scheffler’s point about short par threes is valid, but only if the elements play their role. A short hole without the wind is just a dart board. A short par three with bunkers everywhere and a swirl of wind is an adrenaline hit.

We only have two days remaining of major championship golf in 2024, and Saturday already looks disappointingly benign. The wind should pick up a bit when the players come to the Postage Stamp, and we should get a little rain as well, but Sunday has the potential for 15 to 20 mph gusts.

All we can do is ask for the golfing gods to be ruthless.

A Plea to the Postage Stamp

1. On Tuesday morning, I walked into a quaint, little coffee shop in town, ordered an iced Americano, and asked the very nice woman who took my order what felt like an innocuous question: Hey, what should I do or see in Troon when I’m not taking in the golf?

I was greeted with a friendly-but-slightly-mortified grimace. 

“Oh my,” she said. “There really isn’t much.”

One of the quirks of the Open Championship is that seemingly every year, it returns to a sleepy little town (usually by the sea) where a major sporting event should not — thanks to the modern logic of commerce and convenience — be held. The American mind could never wrap its arms around a place like Troon, a town of roughly 15,500 people. There are a few hotels, a few pubs, a kebab house, a Domino's pizza, a handful of very old churches, a couple of highly-regarded butcher shops and a pier. That’s not entirely it, of course, but it’s close. I tried to get dinner Monday night at a hotel restaurant with a promising menu and was told the kitchen had been closed for an hour. It was 8 p.m.

Americans have a tendency to over-romanticize some aspects of the Open, especially when we would never put those same quirks into practice in our own lives. But there is something hilarious about hosting arguably the biggest championship in golf in a place where your options for dining at 9 p.m. are often one of three fish and chips houses. Imagine the NFL hosting the Super Bowl every few years in a city only slightly bigger than Shelby, Montana (that’s where Cody grew up). Imagine Jerry Jones or James Dolan taking a group of actors, agents and influencers to the best local chippy shack, having greasy haddock and a Johnny Walker Blue. Try that in a small town!

And yet, places like Troon, Carnoustie, Hoylake and Sandwich navigate all the chaos and crowds way better than American cities do.

When the U.S. Open takes place on Long Island (Shinnecock or Bethpage), traffic becomes a snarling nightmare. Same with the PGA Championship, as Louisville recently proved. The Ryder Cup gets more bloated and corporate every year, its original mission now buckling under the weight of a half-dozen galas.

Yet at the Open every year, little Scottish and English towns, centuries old, pull off what is essentially a logistical magic trick. Buses run on time, despite transporting people down tiny narrow roads with crooked stone walls always looming. Local golf courses are happy to open up tee times to visitors (and media). Pubs are happy to have you, but they typically won’t stay open late, even if it means sacrificing revenue. Restaurants feel like they cater to locals, not tourists. There are some exceptions, of course, like in St. Andrews, where Tiger Woods and Justin Timberlake are taking over a local cinema and turning it into a gastro pub likely to feature simulators and duckpin bowling. But for the most part, places that host the Open don’t have gaudy steakhouses or nightclubs or concert venues. They don’t pretend to be something they’re not, and while that’s inconvenient and maybe even a little boring at times, it’s also charming.

It’s not all charming and quirky, of course. It can be depressing when the sun doesn’t shine. Not every caddie here is a wise old sage with charming stories; many of them are wrestling with demons and disappointments. Scotland, just like the United States, is flummoxed by how to deal with a rise in opioid addictions. The food is — to put it nicely — not particularly healthy. There is an oft-told joke in Troon when tourists ask what they should do while in town: Take the train to Prestwick.

Yet the honesty of these little towns remains refreshing. When my barista handed me my coffee — with milk instead of half and half, because cream simply isn’t a thing here in Scotland — my new friend offered one final suggestion.

“I suppose you could ride the big wheel,” she said, gesturing across the street at what was, in fact, a giant ferris wheel that sadly didn’t seem to be in operation. “Or visit the beach. But only on a nice day. It’s kind of a nothing place.”

2. I flew into Edinburgh this week, which was way less expensive than flying into Glasgow, plus it allowed me to take a Delta flight and avoid the nightmarish situation I had last year when British Airways held my golf clubs hostage for a week. Because of that, I got an invitation to play North Berwick on Monday, a course that has been on my most wanted list for about a decade.

A decade ago, North Berwick was the kind of golf course only real ones put on their list when visiting Scotland, but these days, it’s as coveted as any tee time a tourist can snag. (All the daily tee times for non-members are booked through 2025.) NLU visited it for 

, an episode that’s worth a re-watch. I won’t bore you with the details of my round, other than to share that I didn’t hit either of its famous rock walls, and I only lost one ball, a dreadful double cross pull that went out-of-bounds on the 8th hole. I also drove the 18th green! (Then I three-putted for par. Whomp whomp.) My swing remains a graceless blur of arms and thunder, and I promise it makes me cringe when I see it on a social clip far more than it makes you cringe. I’m recovering from a very bad stretch and back to shooting in the mid-to-low 80s again, which is enough to enjoy the game. I don’t need a world-class golf course to enjoy myself, but the hipster take that North Berwick is one of the funnest courses on earth to play is actually spot on. It’s the rare course that really does deserve its reputation.

I also learned that guests, if they can get a tee time without a member, are going to pay somewhere between 185 pounds and 285 pounds for the round, depending on the year, but if you play with a member it’s all of 15 pounds! I think I’m still in shock, having recently paid $215 to play Baltimore Country Club, and $130 to bring a guest out at my own Maryland club, Rolling Road.

I’m sure the general managers at those two would be happy to explain how the economic realities aren’t the same, that North Berwick can charge what it does for guests because it is such a coveted tee time around the world, and that I’m being naive if I think it’s a fair comparison. And maybe they’re right.

But it’s also a shining example of how unwelcoming American country clubs can be compared to clubs in Great Britain, Scotland and Ireland. A cousin of mine was recently on vacation here, and he called Muirfield on two days' notice and asked if he could play a round. They said of course, come join us on Tuesday. It was expensive, but the opportunity to play was there at Scotland’s most exclusive country club.

Scotland has its complexities, but it certainly does golf better than most countries.

3. You probably saw the snippet already where Tiger Woods couldn’t resist taking a not-so-subtle dig at Colin Montgomerie this week when asked about Monty’s belief that he should retire already because he’s not enjoying himself and he’s obviously not going to enjoy Troon. But in case you didn’t, here is Tiger’s quote:

“Well, as a past champion, I’m exempt until I’m 60,” Woods said. “Colin’s not. He’s not a past ­champion, so he’s not exempt. So he doesn’t get the opportunity to make that decision. I do.”

As often is the case these days when any athlete says anything even mildly interesting, it gets framed by the press in the most ridiculous terms. Here is a sampling of how the press (of which I’m obviously a member, so take that however you like) labeled Tiger’s response.

“Tiger Woods’ brutal response to Monty” —Daily Mail

“Tiger Woods and Colin Montgomerie in Open War of Words” —Telegraph

“Tiger Woods hits back at Monty” —Sky Sports

“Tiger jabs at Monty with 6 sentences and a smirk” —Golf.com

“Tiger Woods barbecues Colin Montgomerie in war of words” —Golfweek

As anyone who was in Tiger’s press conference can attest, or anyone who watched it on video can attest, it was a pretty mild rebuke. It would be a stretch to think of it as any kind of takedown. In general, I hate the cliched response from athletes that everything they say gets turned into clickbait, but this was a pretty good example of how every interaction between athletes is framed like someone is getting owned or getting put in their place.

Media criticism aside, I get why Monty would say what he did because it’s something fans voice all the time. It can be uncomfortable to watch a great athletes age, and there have been times in the last two years when it’s been uncomfortable to watch Tiger limp around the golf course. But the idea that he’s damaging his legacy by continuing to play into his 50s is dumb. You don’t get to make that choice for Tiger. I am not entirely blameless in this narrative. I once penned an ESPN column suggesting he turn to coaching instead of doing further damage to his body, but that was before his miracle back surgery. I don’t regret the sentiment behind it. Even Tiger thought he was done prior to that surgery. Now I think he should play for as long as he likes.

And as much as he feeds into the narrative that he won’t be out there unless he truly believes he has a chance to win, some of that feels like bluster. Roger Federer used to tell the people who wanted him to retire once he started to slip that they didn’t understand him at all, and I think his quote sums up how Tiger probably feels but can’t publicly admit.

 "Some people, some media, don't understand that it's OK just to play tennis and enjoy it. They always think you have to win everything, it always needs to be a success story, and if it's not, obviously, what is the point? Maybe you have to go back and think, 'Why have I started playing tennis? Because I just like it.' It's actually sort of a dream hobby that became somewhat of a job. Some people just don't get that, ever."

As embarrassing as it might be for a 46-year-old man to quote Taylor Swift, this lyric from The Tortured Poets Department probably captures exactly how Tiger feels these days:

I’ll tell you something about my good name; it’s mine alone to disgrace.

Three Things I Learned from 48 Hours in Troon

Welcome to GHIN & Tonic: Volume 11! This is my first go-round, and I am quite nervous about it. I was “voluntold” this assignment by our Editorial Director, which is cool because I wouldn't have raised my hand to do it without his push. (Note: KVV also told me via his Twitter this week that I won a used MacBook and new’ish iPad Air. Who knows what to believe anymore?)

Writing scares me. Which is wild to say for a person who used to write Intelligence Reports for a living. The last time I sat down to write with this much struggle was in Spring 2020. Now, this edition of G&T is not the Afghanistan withdrawal plan (which was clearly scrapped), but it is still a mess for someone with ADHD. It makes me even more grateful for the written word and those who sit down and wrestle with it for a living. And most importantly, their editors.

: I would like to start by saying how damn proud I (we) are of Lauren Coughlin.

If you are unaware, our Young Hitter finished solo fourth at The Amundi Evian Championship this week. Her third-round 65 put her in a prime position for a chance to win her first major. And on Sunday, she was there! LC was so calm and in control of her golf ball, turning with a 4-under 31 before opening her back nine with six straight pars.

There were multiple moments where she was tied for the lead with Steph Kyriacou and others where she sat alone. I cannot remember the last time I was that excited at 6:30 a.m. Texas time.

I was glued to the TV when my three girls finally woke up. They made their way downstairs for some quality snuggle time, right as a tough three-putt bogey struck on the 16th hole. By the time LC’s group arrived at the 17th tee, I was visibly nervous. The girls asked me if everything was OK.

Why did Dad have so much energy this early in the morning? Well, because it felt like it was slipping away. Not even because of LC’s bogey but because of everything else happening. Patty T made an eagle on 18 to get into the clubhouse at 17 under. Kyriacou, playing in the final group with LC and Ayaka Furue, made back-to-back birdies. Ayaka had made three birdies in a row and was very much in it. Guided by caddie/husband John Pond, LC’s tee shot on 17 found the right side of the dogleg right fairway. With a tree in her line of sight, she took dead aim. And it looked great. Unfortunately, the greenside bunker short right that seemed to be the front right pin’s only defense got in the way. She missed her number by a foot. Two at max.

As she and John walked up the 17th fairway (for all of half a second that Golf Channel aired) you could see the momentum leaving her body. Her shoulders hung a bit lower.

And back in Texas, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. I felt for my friend. John did a great job talking her through the bunker shot, trying to keep her locked in. The same thing he did down 18. Ayaka made a great eagle putt on 18, claiming her first major championship. LC and John, standing side by side as the putt was rolling towards the hole, turned and laughed to each other. They quickly turned to give their customary hugs before the champagne and water celebration engulfed the 18th green.

Lauren has been on the professional grind for a long time (turning pro in 2016) but it feels like she is growing into her own. This solo fourth finish and her T3 earlier in the year at the Chevron Championship are all coming during the first year she is automatically into all five majors. Rightfully disappointed about a couple of bad holes, she is quick to point out how great the week – and year – has been overall.

She is in serious contention for an automatic Solheim Cup pick. Simply awesome stuff.

So when the girls asked me, “What is the matter, Dad?” I used the moment to talk about LC, someone they already know, and how things sometimes do not go how we want. The result doesn't define who we are or what we are capable of. We also talked about what defeat is and how it makes us better in the long run.

And I was really into the speech, talking to them in the eyes and everything. I paused in between points, making sure they were taking it all in.

And when I was done, the littlest one, with a look of confusion, asked “Can we watch Bluey now…?”

 held at Sand Creek Station in Newton, KS. 

Kipp Popert claimed his second U.S. Adaptive Open trophy with rounds of 65-66-71 to finish -14 total. This is Kipp’s second U.S. Adaptive Open win, making him the first overall winner to go back-to-back. 

After opening with a 3-under -69, Bailey Bish did her part to hold onto an eventual 4-stroke victory in the Women’s Overall Championship. Her second-round 78 brought ‘22 Champion Kim Moore and ‘23 Champion Ryanne Jackson into the fold heading into the final day. But a final round 77 was enough for Bish as Moore and Jackson struggled to mount a final round charge. Outside of Overall Champions, the USGA also awards medals to each of the 15 category winners. Congratulations to Kipp and Bailey, category winners and all who qualified.

Speaking of qualifying, I was lucky enough to attend the first edition of this Championship held at Pinehurst No. 6 in 2022. For the first two years of the Championship, some competitors and outsiders grew disgruntled by the qualification/selection criteria used by the USGA to fill the Championship field. 

Like most things at the USGA, they listened and made changes

For the first time in the history of the Championship, six qualifiers were held across the United States. Exemptions were expanded to include the male and female Champions from the Canadian All Abilities Championship, male and female winners of the G4D Open, and the top 10 men’s and top 5 female points leaders of the WR4GD rankings. These changes not only make the championship the best field in adaptive golf, but prove that it is open to all.

Next step for adaptive golf? Inclusion into the Paralympics. It is silly that this is where we are at in 2024. The International Golf Federation has been working with the International Paralympic Committee since before Golf was added to the Olympic Program in 2016 and there is still no change. In fact, the IGF has been told no four times already, with the latest denial leaving golf 

Thankfully, the IGF has not waivered in its support of adaptive golf, and with the success of the U.S. Adaptive Open (USGA) and the G4D Open (R&A), it will continue to make strides to promote the sport for potential inclusion by the time we get to Australia in 2032.

 Scottish golf! Both the Scottish followed by The Open come at the perfect time each summer. 

For me, we are right at the tipping point of crazy hot to stupid hot in the Texas yearly calendar. Maybe it is just having live golf in the morning, but it makes me feel physically cooler. Sure, there are plenty of things that could be said about the state of professional men’s golf in 2024 (Why is the Irish Open not in this run?). But this morning I have no time for that. 

What I do have is a confession: It’s a yearly reminder that I have never played golf in Scotland…

That last sentence was painful to type, especially when you work for the company that I do. I have watched Season 2 of Tourist Sauce close to a dozen times. I have seen the crew take Nest members over for an NLU event and another trip to play TOC in reverse. I have made my way through every One the Road with Iona/Cookie Jar/EAL/you name it Scottish video series. I love it all.

The craziest thing about it all is that I have been to the vast majority of courses in the Open rota!

Yari and I spent 21 days traveling across the British Isles for our honeymoon. Starting in London armed only with my LG Chocolate and a road atlas for directions, we set off. Starting north to St Andrews, across to Muirfield and Troon, down to Birkdale, Liverpool, Lytham & St. Annes before we hopped a ferry to Ireland. 

Bed & Breakfasts each night with golf clubs in tow, I simply never played. At the time I had some regrets, but I consciously chose to spend time with the person I love most doing whatever she wanted. I think over time, the history of the places or the sights in front of her left an imprint. She realized that golf was not something I just played, but something that was a deep passion burning inside of me. 

The playing of it will change next month when Randy and I make our way over to St Andrews for the AIG Women’s Open. But the void of it over the last 15 years is something I am grateful for.

Why is this coming up now? Because my game is in shambles! 

I know I am not the only one who has had this feeling before. The pending golf trip that you think about way too much is immediately followed by a rush of anxiety because you know your game is shit. 

I am caught between major changes to my swing and my body. I get to the range about three times a week to grind on the 

 have me working on. For the first time in my adult life, I feel more confident in my putting than I do my full swing. If you have watched my game at all, that is saying something. 

I have worked really hard on my body this year, which has resulted in losing some weight and most importantly, gaining muscle. The reason here was two parts: not getting kicked out of bed for snoring anymore and to increase my swing speed. 

I have accomplished the first but am struggling with the latter. To fix this D.J., Casey and I went and saw Dr. Greg Rose and had our evaluations done at TPI. I do not want to spoil the pending content, but it is working. I get excited just from seeing the physical changes daily. And I know it takes time for all of this to result in lower scores. I guess the one saving grace as I blade ball after ball on the range, trying to get my swing plane lower is the low ball will work in Scotland. 

I will just need to invest some time in my bunker game to make up for it.

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Hand up, you are catching me on a very difficult week in the world of parenting. We had a blast over the 4th of July and apparently, so did everyone else at my kids’ summer camp. The issue with long holiday weekends is that while everyone gets out and about, the kids pick up every germ known to man. 

We started Monday off on a high note, with everyone excited to be back in camp and seeing their friends. That night, while Momma and I were settled into the previous night's House of Dragon episode, the stomach bug appeared. I hope (pray) we are on the other side of it now, but you never know.

I spent the rest of what little free time I had doing our graphics package for the following week’s live shows. I would never claim to be the artistic type, but it is something that I have learned to really love. 

Maybe it is the process of it all, but it has turned into something therapeutic for me. I am very much a “learn from your mistakes” type. And even though our graphics are as low stakes as can be, the short feedback loop has taught me a lot of new skills. Different programs and different looks for each major. I know immediately when something looks like crap, and am quick to dump it and start over. Bottom line: keep learning new stuff, it’s good for the brain.

The MacKenzie Reader: Writings on Golf Architecture and More

 a few months ago but never got around to reading it. I am not an architecture guy, mostly because I struggle to define what I am looking at or for. But I have always been fascinated by The Good Doctor, and there is no better place to start than with his lost writings and illustrations. I will report back when I wrap it up.

During some downtime last week, I went to the movie theatre to watch 

. I am a big Kevin Costner fan, and I feel like almost everything he does has some soul left in it. I guess my hopes for his big passion project were a bit too high because this movie stunk. If I could ask for my money back, I would. We would be better off seeing him back in the Governor's Mansion fighting land developers and crooked tribal leaders in Yellowstone.

Not to leave you on a negative: I highly recommend 

 on Netflix. Last year the combo of NFL Films, Omaha Productions and Patrick Mahomes’s 2PM Productions brought 

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 11 (Cody)

Welcome to GHIN & Tonic Vol. 10. Double digits! Thanks, as always, for reading. Here are a few quick things that are on my mind this week.

The best golf thing I read last week – actually the best thing I've read in many, many weeks – was 

Brendan Quinn's profile of Lilia Vu in The Athletic

. Actually, it's much less of a profile of Vu, herself. It's more of a telling of her origin story.

If you watched any of Lilia's historic run in the majors last year, you probably heard broadcasters making passing mentions of her family's history; her grandparents escaping Vietnam on a homemade boat with a handful of others and making their way to America to start a new life. When it's crammed into a few lines in a media guide, it's a compelling note. But when it's spelled out in full detail – through countless interviews and stop-you-in-your-tracks, first-person perspective, it makes for one of the most thoughtful and propulsive pieces I've ever read in golf. 

I wouldn't call myself a particularly patriotic person, and the Olympics as a whole have, admittedly, always been mostly an eye roll for me. But all I'll say is that it's hard to get to the end of a piece like this and not be struck by how beautiful an American medal would look at the end of this particular butterfly effect.

Massive thanks to BQ and everyone who participated in this piece for creating a true show-stopper and an unforgettable feature.

In other news: A professional golfer named Hayden Springer shot 59 last week at the John Deere Classic. It was the 14th time someone has broken 60 on the PGA Tour.

Shooting 59 on a 7,300-yard PGA Tour setup (even a soft one like TPC Deere Run) is a concept that every golfer can theoretically wrap their heads around. You need to make everything. You need a couple of good breaks. But I would guess that the level of golf required to do so is still basically inconceivable to most people. It’s Video Game Golf. Maybe better, honestly. Springer, a player you probably have never heard of, shot 27 on the front nine. 

When I was growing up, 59 was a mythical number. Sub-60 rounds were like comets that only came around once a decade. It was really fun to look for them. Guys might get close occasionally, but even after Al Geiberger broke the seal in 1977, there were only two more 59s in the next 22 years. And that third one was, of course, the best one: David Duval closing out the Bob Hope in 1999 with a final-round 59 to win by one.

The only one I saw in person was Jim Furyk’s 59, which might have been the most impressive (no one else shot better than 65 on that blustery day at Conway Farms). I was covering the round for the PGA Tour and even though it was a Friday, it felt every bit as exciting as watching someone chase down their first Tour title.

Since Duval, it’s happened 11 more times and each one understandably feels a little less exciting. That’s the way life goes. To be honest, scanning through the list of players to break 60, I forgot about half of them had happened. (Kevin Chappell?)

Springer’s 59 was the second on the PGA Tour in 12 days, after Cameron Young’s 59 at the Travelers. These Guys Are Good. Live Under Par. Things of that nature.

Being a superstar has never been a prerequisite for shooting 59. A lot of 59ers look much more like Springer than Scottie Scheffler (oh, right, he did it once, too). Coming into the week, Springer had made 6 of 18 cuts on Tour. DataGolf had him as the 295th-ranked golfer in the world. 

None of this is meant as a shot at Springer: Instead, what I'm struck by is the feeling that rounds like this might be the best way to illustrate how incredibly deep the game is. This is what the majority of the PGA Tour is – anonymous golfers of inconceivable talent, capable of swooping in and being the best player in the world on any given day.

There are a lot of painfully obvious reasons for this increase in sub-60 rounds: Players are better than ever. Agronomy is better than ever. Most of all, equipment is laughably long, forgiving and optimized. I suppose this is what it looks like when a league’s entire floor gets higher. It doesn't ruin my day and I really don’t want to be too precious about it. I just wish this "progress" was a little more fun. This one barely made a sound.

As arbitrary as the difference between 60 and 59 is, I kind of feel like eulogizing what we’ve lost as these types of scores become so commonplace that we start to lose track of them.

A “59 watch” was one of my favorite things in the game. Maybe it was the absurdity of the number itself and just how magical and out of place a 5 looks on a scoreboard filled with 6s and 7s. Maybe it was the fact that YOU knew that THEY knew they were getting close to breaking the sound barrier and you got to watch exactly how that feeling changed their process and emotions on those last few holes. Those moments were some of my favorites in a lifetime of watching golf.

 at the Phoenix Open? The golf world stopped. He knew exactly what was on the line. Him coming up short was borderline emotional. The near-misses were just as captivating (maybe even more captivating) than the successes.

We all have our own version of this, which I think is what made those moments both inconceivable AND deeply relatable. Your number might be 79 or 99 or 109, but the feeling is the same. “If I can just do X on the last Y holes…” Hell, our 

 is powered largely by this exact feeling and idea. Perfection in golf is 

 to be elusive and we aren’t supposed to be posing for history book photos every week.

But the pro game marches on, a little less relatable than it was before. Here’s to whoever turns out to be Mr. or Ms. 57, I suppose. It just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

I had the privilege of hopping on the TrapDraw last week with Neil and Cody to talk about my trip to see Dead and Company at The Sphere (I can’t leave off the “The” – it sounds so stupid).

As we said on the podcast, I think my brother’s assessment of the venue was my favorite that I’ve heard: “It might be the first technological advancement in a while that feels like an uncomplicated net positive.” It’s really freaking fun. And with the valid exception of the steep ticket prices or some possible motion sickness, I would be fascinated to talk to someone who didn’t feel the same way.

When I tried on the Apple Vision Pro for the first time, I was similarly overwhelmed by the creative possibilities, but that, like so many other internetty things, also came with a pit in my stomach about isolation and the idea of somehow being even more tethered to devices and couches. (I’m sure much of this is just me becoming An Old. What are you gonna do?)

(The) Sphere, by contrast, felt like an extremely communal, in-person experience, and I kind of love the fact that it’s mostly impossible to capture with cell phone photos or videos. Everyone inside was mostly there for the first time, having their minds melted simultaneously in the same room together. You could look at the person next to you and see your own bewilderment reflected right back to you, which is the best feeling. Add in the decades of context that most people in the audience had with the songs being played and it really is kind of an emotional experience.

Speaking of those songs: I’m well aware of how grating the entire jam band thing can be and I’m not here to convince you otherwise. I will say this: For a night full of songs that date back 50 or 60 years, I was shocked at the youthful energy at the show and I think it’s fascinating to think about why so many people of all ages get swept up by this band at unexpected times in their lives.

 captures the experience well. As comfortable as cynicism and detached irony are, I feel like this rings true to my experience as well:

“I still feel somewhat self-conscious when talking about it, but the Dead—and all its ancillary experiences over the past decade—have brought me comfort, new friendships, even emotional steadiness. I’m less judgmental, more empathic, and open to discovery… And though I still find the experience of dancing to shitty pop music at weddings physically painful, I can dance to the Dead like no one’s watching—proving that old dogs can learn new tricks when the right treat is available.”

It's not surprising then, that this feeling, multiplied by 18,000 or so strangers, makes for a pretty great atmosphere. Everyone is on the same page, ready to watch their favorite band with no idea where things are about to go. 

My favorite interaction about the band was between a close relative and I some years ago. We were driving and the studio version of "Dire Wolf" came on the car's speakers.

"Oh, nevermind. I don't like the Grateful Dead."

It was a real life encapsulation of the meme that "everyone is a Grateful Dead fan, they just don't know it yet."

For those that eventually let their guard down and give into the archeology and exploration (and understand that the band has essentially never played the same song twice), there's not really any coming back.

“It does offer a tremendous opportunity for seemingly endless discovery. This, more than anything, explains why I and perhaps others have been drawn into this world relatively late in life. Getting into the Dead replicates the feeling I had as a kid learning about music for the first time, when all artists were new and classic albums I had never heard were blowing my mind every day.”

So be careful what you say about jam bands. It could happen to you!

Songs I’ve been listening to on repeat:

In no particular order, with no particular unifying thread.

 (5/19/77 - Dick’s Picks 29): Has never been one of my favorites, but hearing it live made me seek out a lot of different versions and embrace the prog.

“Stumblin’ In,” Chris Norman, Suzi Quatro

: I vaguely remember hearing this song as a kid when my parents would have friends over and listen to all kinds of oldies Time Life-type compilation CDs. I’m not sure I heard it again until it was used in “Licorice Pizza,” one of the highlights of a highlight-heavy soundtrack. Then it popped up when Justine and I were driving through Norway listening to some random Yacht Rock playlist and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Perfect driving song.

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

Welcome back to the NLU Mailbag. In this space, we’ll address topics big and small, smart and dumb, irreverent and serious. Please consider joining the Nest, where you’ll receive access to our message board, early access to NLU events, a 15 percent discount in the pro shop, an annual gift, plus a members’ only podcast and written work. Click

 about the Nest and how to join. In the meantime, let’s dive into some questions…

James Townsend asks: Should Rory hire Bones? I know this feels like a First Take-level prompt, but it feels like they could actually be a decent match in dispositions (if Rory could accept actual input from a caddie) and would align with Rory’s all-in attitude to majors.

I always feel like questions about caddies and players are difficult to answer, as long as you’re being intellectually honest, which doesn’t always make for a good First Take performance. That’s why this is a better question for print.

I could sit here and tell you that Rory needs to shake things up and get a new voice on the bag, and that might be a very popular answer, but Rory might tell you that Harry Diamond is the reason he’s a more consistent player than he was a decade ago when he was winning majors with J.P. Fitzgerald on the bag.

I think we have a tendency to assume Rory is lacking something right now in his golf game, and that’s why he’s not winning majors, but a more nuanced take might be that the rest of the world simply caught up to where Rory was in his 20s. A commitment to fitness is now the norm in professional golf, not an outlier. Remember when Brandel Chamblee used to get on Rory for lifting weights too much? Now everyone does speed and strength training. I’m sure this will sound to some like I’m making excuses for Rory, but I think it’s reality. His driving was such an advantage back in 2014, and while it remains an advantage, the gap is way smaller.

In 2014, Rory’s Strokes Gained: Off The Tee was +1.367, by far the best on the PGA Tour. Bubba Watson was second with +0.967. In the Shotlink era, it’s the second-best driving performance ever. Only Watson’s 2012 number (+1.485) was better.

In 2019, his SG: Off The Tee number was +1.195, again the best on Tour, and way ahead of the next best driver of the ball, Jhonattan Vegas, at +0.753. (It’s actually fair to wonder why he went 0-4 in majors this year.)

But he’s never had that kind of advantage again. In 2023, for example, he finished 3rd in SG Off The Tee (+.907) trailing both Scottie Scheffler (+1.021) and Ludvig Aberg (+0.982). He’s still one of the world’s best drivers, but the rest of the world closed the gap.

The common refrain when people talk about Rory needing a new caddie goes: I know Bones could save him a stroke a round, and that’s the difference between winning majors and not winning majors. That might be true — no way to prove it is or isn’t without actually putting Bones on the bag — but one of the reasons Rory didn’t continue his torrid major pace is because he stopped having such a two or three-stroke advantage off the tee.

Would Bones want to caddie for Rory? Hard to say. If they did join forces and win a handful of majors, it would solidify their legacies as two of the best at their jobs. But Bones, who turns 60 next year, might not want that life anymore.

Would you fire your best friend if it meant you 

win another major? It’s easy to say when it’s not your best friend. It’s not like they haven’t been close. We can point to three majors in the last two years and say that Rory and Harry could have won all three had a break gone their way.

One thing that’s fun to think about too: What if Phil Mickelson had fired Bones in 2003, convinced it was going to get him over the hump? Phil and Bones were 0-46 together before they won the Masters in 2004.

I am confident Rory doesn’t blame any of that drought on Harry. Would a change make a difference? I don’t know. I do think if Rory wants to try something new and Bones is interested, they ought to commit to it in the offseason and build toward Augusta. That feels like a better recipe for success.

On the flip side, if Rory does win a major with Harry on the bag, I have to imagine it would be tremendously rewarding to do it with your lifelong best friend. Part of Rory’s endless dilemma is he wrestles with being human and being ruthless. He’ll probably wrestle with that as long as he’s a great player.

Michael S. asks: If these players never won another major, how would you rank them from least to most disappointed that they "only" won one major: Adam Scott, Jason Day, Henrik Stenson, Justin Rose, Sergio Garcia, Jim Furyk.

Very interesting question. That is a list of tremendous ball-strikers. It is hard to believe, having lived through all their careers, they each won just one major. I feel comfortable saying I don’t think any of them wins a second at this point. Just to set some ground rules, I can’t really rank their level of personal disappointment, only my own disappointment in wishing we’d seen more from them. So from most disappointed to least, here goes:

No Laying Up

Writing

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

The Case for Patrick Cantlay

The Lost Decade of Rory in Majors

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 7 (D.J.)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 6 (KVV)

Yuka Saso Strikes Again

The Eye Test Manifesto