Welcome to GHIN and Tonic: Vol. 9. It’s felt like a sprint for team NLU since late April, but this week, I finally feel a collective exhale from the team, so I’ll keep it brief this week. I’d prefer we all get off the internet and enjoy the summer holiday!

In May, I qualified for the Metropolitan Golf Association’s Public Links Championship with a very patient 73 on a rainy day. I finished tied for third with the top seven qualifying for the championship. I was thrilled. The MGA hosts the oldest “Pub Links” tournament in the United States. It’s open to any MGA member with an eight handicap or better and does not host their handicap at a private club. The 

 included 60 golfers and was a 36-hole one-day event at 

, a well-maintained parkland course across the New Jersey border in Suffern, New York. I finished solo 43rd, going 79-82.

My golf could have been much better, but I loved every minute of the competition. Here are a few takeaways after a couple of weeks of reflection:

I was impressed with my fellow competitors, Harrol and Joe. Harrol was in his mid-sixties, and when I asked him when he started playing golf, he gave me a definite answer: October 4th, 2004. He’s only played golf for 20 years and shot a tidy one under 71 in the first round. Joe was a retired NYPD officer now living on Long Island. After college football, he played eight years as a receiver on the 

. He picked up golf after age forty as well. Both of these men were better golfers than me despite homegrown swings, no “home club,” and aging bodies, which, at first, I found discouraging. But the more I think about it, I now find it invigorating. It’s stark evidence that my best golf could and should be ahead of me. As I turn 35 next month, there are not many other physical activities where I can look to the future for better days.

Harrol specifically was the embodiment of how boring good golf can look, and I’d sum it up in two words: high floor. He had a consistent ball flight (a low, barreling draw), played away from trouble, and gave himself a ton of birdie and par putts. There was a rhythm to his game that was not present in my game, and it was inspiring to watch. Especially late in our 2nd round, there is such a value to hitting the middle or fat part of the green and avoiding the 8-10 foot par putts that result from unfocused targets and short-sided misses. These putts wore me down mentally, which led to a few bad decisions on the next tee trying to “catch up.”

My biggest takeaway from the Pub Links was how much room I have to improve with a better competitive strategy alone. The week after the tournament, I picked up 

 on X), and before I even finished the intro, I felt like he was writing directly to me. Though I didn’t make worse than a double bogey over 36 holes (I made two 12-15 footers for double that elicited big fist pumps from your boy), I had four double bogeys on the day, and they are such momentum killers. If you’d asked me last year why I’m a three and not a scratch handicap, my answer would have been, “I don’t make enough birdies.” I’m finally realizing that’s just not the issue. I make too many double bogeys due to poor club selection, impatience, aggressive targets, and poor recovery shots. The good news is all of those things are within my control before I make a swing. As I prepare for the Long Island Mid Am and MGA Mid Am this Fall, I emphasize better targets off the tee and more conservative recovery shots (i.e., stop trying to hit a hero recovery shot).

All in all, I can’t wait to play in the next competitive event. I love hitting cups, challenging myself, and grinding for 36 holes, and I’d encourage anyone reading this to do the same. If your handicap is up in the double digits, consider competing in our handicapped 

. Both are fun, low-pressure ways to start your competitive golf journey.

My only other “GHIN” item this week is a shout-out to Marques Brownlee and his new 

. About halfway through the video, I realized that I never really knew 

 the ShotLink system worked and certainly had no idea that the walking scorer was like the guy or gal at the roulette table saying, “No more bets” late in the spin! It feels like the tour and broadcast only use a sliver of what’s possible from this technology weekly, but it was nice to look under the hood and see how impactful it could be. Also, Brownlee is a really talented video creator and communicator, and I like seeing him venture outside of technology product reviews.

Page Break

The Smokers softball season rolls on after a 7th-inning walk-off win last Monday night in the North Meadow of Central Park. I’m back at shortstop this season, and I’m starting to develop an excellent connection with our new first baseman, a Nest member we brought in to mash as our clean-up hitter (shout out to 

 on The Refuge). I’ve played on this softball team on and off since 2012, and it’s still one of the highlights of every New York summer. 

As someone who now works from home, I look forward to the long subway ride from Brooklyn to the heart of Manhattan for an evening game. It feels like a worthy adventure out into the city that fills my office window, and it’s always a treat to play down on the Hecksher fields by Columbus Circle, where the skyscrapers of Midtown tower over the field, making me feel like we’re playing in the world’s biggest stadium. This corner of Central Park is also teeming with tourists, who gawk at us daft Americans taking our sportive competition too seriously. 

Still, these unintended “fans” give games a little extra juice, and when I inevitably move to suburbia, Smokers softball will top the list of things I will miss about NYC. My awareness of that fact is gratifying. It’s helping me savor every game. Like my thoughts on competitive golf above, this softball team reinforces how significant low-stakes but meaningful competition is to my well-being. I know that may sound trite, but it’s true. I love it. Organized competition is the best, and I’d encourage you to find something similar.

 by John Vaillant, and I can’t put it down. It’s a fascinating but sobering exploration of why wildfires are getting bigger, hotter, and more devastating. Vaillant uses the 2016 Fort McMurray fire that ravaged the forest and petroleum industry based in Alberta, Canada, to explore climate change and its impact on Northern forests worldwide. With this book as context, the climate protesters on Sunday at the Travelers might have a point, even if how they deliver the message does much more harm than good to any real progress in fighting climate change. I also loved Vaillant’s book 

. I’m drawn to writers who can turn well-researched non-fiction and nature topics into riveting narratives. It’s the best combination of informative and entertaining.

Speaking of book selections, I’ve gotten a ton of value from Ryan Holiday’s 

37-year-old. Sometimes, I glaze over when the Stoic mafia starts cooking up mantras, but as I turn 35, I find the majority of these “lessons” hit home. This one hit home after reading too many comments back in May:

“9. Another sports analogy…the great ones tune out the crowd. It’s been a journey for me to wrap my head around tuning out not just the cheers but the reality that the bigger your audience is, by definition, the bigger the number of people who don’t like you. (I shudder to think how many people out there think I suck…so I don’t think about it!)”

, and I’m fired up for my first Goose show and first concert at Forrest Hills, the old U.S. Open tennis venue in Queens. I will need a few weeks to reflect on the experience, so look for some thoughts on that in my next GHIN & Tonic appearance! In the meantime, here’s a picture of a sold-out crowd on a beautiful night in NYC.

Join the Nest

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 9 (Neil)

As a Nest member, Titleist and NLU would like to invite you to an exclusive fitting event and be among the first to experience the new GT series of drivers and fairway metals (dates and locations listed below). 

During your GT test drive with a Titleist Fitting Specialist, you’ll discover what makes these new drivers a massive technological step forward and how they can improve your game. 

Also, club fittings are really fun. I had one earlier this week, and it's an excellent opportunity to evaluate your game without messing with your swing. I felt like I'd been hitting the ball too low. It turns out I was right (5-degree launch angle). By switching to a new 11-degree GT3 driver, I could consistently see my launch angle above 9 degrees, which led to 15 yards of additional carry distance. The best part is that a Titleist fitting specialist is on hand to talk through all these numbers so you can better understand how to maximize your golf swing. 

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Fitting capacity is limited in the markets listed below and available on a first-come, first-served basis. Reserve your spot ASAP, and please cancel quickly if your schedule changes.

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July 16th - Golf Club at Newcastle (Seattle Area): 

July 23rd - Leonard Golf Links (Dallas/Fort Worth): 

July 27th - Timpanogos Golf Club (Salt Lake City): 

July 29th - Spartan Golf Complex (San Francisco Bay Area): 

July 29th - Pine Meadow Golf Club (Chicago): 

July 29th - Tijeras Creek (Orange County): 

July 30th - Providence Country Club (Charlotte): 

July 30th - Cotes Golf Performance Center (Hartford, CT): 

Exclusive Titleist club fitting for Nest Members. Be among the first to test drive the new GT drivers and fairway woods

Nest Member Exclusive: Titleist GT Fitting Events

Contrary to my general apathy and burnout about the week-to-week world of men’s professional golf, I’m so unbelievably excited for Pinehurst No. 2 and this week’s U.S. Open.

The reasons for this are mostly obvious and if you're reading this, I’m sure they align with the reasons you are excited. All the players are back together. It’s going to be a world-class execution test at a fascinating venue. The weather looks fantastic. Carnage is potentially looming. Plus, there is no better consistent agent of 

 in the golf world than the USGA. Sign me up for all of it. I can’t wait.

 and it was proved prescient, even sans any USGA hijinx. To say we at NLU were excited about last week’s U.S. Open was an understatement - we were downright giddy. And most of the time when that’s the case, we end up being disappointed. While “our” guy didn’t win (more on that below), that somehow only added to how substantive and consequential the entire championship felt. The result edified just how hard it is to win one of these things – to play truly great golf for 68 holes – and then have it ripped away by a momentary loss of focus and a guy who makes Rory’s game look downright old-fashioned. The golf course demonstrated just how brilliant and multi-dimensional golf can be on firm, fiery surfaces and thoughtful greens. That we get to see this place again in ‘29, and then every six years thereafter plus Women’s Opens, gives us all something to look forward to. And in ‘29, the hope is that the game returns in a different place – with equipment somewhat under control and the game back in proportion, which should only make Pinehurst shine that much more.

I tweeted this out about what I'd like to see next time around:

Upon reflection, most of that still tracks.

Here are some stream-of-consciousness thoughts: I think there are certain spots where there needs to be more wiregrass to maintain the integrity of the hole (5, 18). Speaking of integrity, the regularity with which TIO relief comes into play during major championships remains a laughable occurrence, with the 13th hole on Sunday serving as the finest example in recent memory. Pushing that tee up (in conjunction with the hole location used) made the hole far less interesting for the best players in the field. Rory stepped up and hit driver, knowing he had a backstop with the grandstand long right and a straightforward up and down from there. The previous days we were treated to engaging drama and disaster, with guys making double and triple with wedge in their hands - the challenge as much mental as it was physical (and on both the tee shot and the approach). We got none of that on Sunday, as the longest hitters thoughtlessly bashed it up there. And while Bryson’s 3-wood was brilliant, it didn’t make up for what was lost. If the USGA is hard up for another driveable four, then maybe take a long look at the seventh hole, which would play beautifully. This is all setup/rules stuff. The course itself played beautifully, even if certain greens don’t make as much sense with the current green speeds and the switch to the bermudagrass. If it’s between firmness and speed, let’s pick firmness and slow them down a bit, but keep them rock hard. All for variety and offering up a little bit of different tests and a focus on the integrity of the strike with irons. I imagine the USGA will be using a different seating vendor moving forward ;)

I’ll add two more related things to the list: enhance the focus on pace of play. Whan’s a marketing guy - make enforcement of pace of play in the U.S. Open a shining example of what is a scourge at all levels of the game (and seemingly only getting worse with each passing year). That’s what stewards do. It’s a tough problem, but bring in more officials so there is someone timing on every hole. Be consistent and uncompromising across the board. When they’re setting the golf course up a certain way to avoid pace of play disasters or not finishing a round on one of the longest days of the year, then that’s a compromise that’s being made in the attempt to identify the best player. And the 

 player is one who also completes the task in the allotted time and without adversely impacting his competitors. That’s part of the equation. Let’s stroke some guys and see what happens!

Speaking of stewardship, Pebble Beach should take a long look at Pinehurst’s philosophy and rebirth over the last decade plus. You want to talk about resting on your laurels (and the Pacific Ocean)...

 of Rory in the immediate aftermath of the tournament as he packed up and left in the minutes after Bryson’s group (playing immediately behind him) putted out. While “chickenshit” may have been a touch strong (and a term I overuse), it captured the disappointment I felt seeing him slink away and speed off. 

 aligns closely with where I’m at on this one.

 after blowing a five-shot lead and then losing a playoff at the LPGA event in Michigan. Sure, the stakes are different, so how about Adam Scott at Lytham after seven or eight years of close calls in majors? He stood up and accepted the silver salver and congratulated Ernie. Or Phil Mickelson at Winged Foot, after losing notching his fourth runner-up finish in the US Open in especially heartbreaking fashion? He addressed the crowd! Let’s do Greg Norman at Augusta in 1996 - he addressed the media. The all-time greats don’t do it for you? How about van de Velde at Carnoustie, knowing deep down that he’d let his one chance slip away in spectacular fashion and standing there and doing an interview?

Rory’s going to be fine. I’d argue he’s playing better golf than at any other point in his career, at least he’s better AT golf. He’s cleaned up many of the things that ailed him - distance control with wedges, first-round kerfuffles, and clearly put in the work. Sure, that makes it hurt worse, but he’ll move forward knowing that he thrived on a course that nobody tabbed as a fit for his game. And that’s before you even consider the way the near-term major championship venues suit him (see: 2025 at Quail Hollow.) So much good to take from this.

A lot of the #discourse has been about the fact that he doesn’t owe media anything. Perhaps not. If it were just him skipping a presser or a scrum (as he has a notable reputation for doing after a poor round) then whatever. But he skipped off before he could congratulate Bryson and looked like a poor sport in the process. 

Rory’s got a lot going on right now. He’s asked for privacy and he should receive it. His personal life is not our business. But that doesn’t mean his public actions should be off limits from criticism. If he’s so upset with how he played — calling it maybe the hardest day of his career in the notes app apology on Monday — then offer someone else the wheel instead of peeling out of the parking lot. If he can’t close in these tournaments he wants so badly, then maybe it’s time to see if a different caddie might help. If he wants to focus on this career and his legacy, then don’t float it out there that you want back on the board if you’ve already resigned in frustration. No matter how disappointed with yourself you are, you stand there and shake the opponent’s hand and hang around, win or lose.

In other sports, you stand there and shake the opponent’s hand and hang around, win or lose. I think tennis is the closest thing you can find to golf - independent contractors, individual sport, going through a grueling psychological (and FAR more grueling physical) examination alone in an intimate setting, and standing up in front of a stadium full of people afterward accepting the runner up trophy and maybe saying a few words. 

The reason we were all drawn to Rory in the first place was because he cared, he felt authentic and he at least wanted to do the right stuff, and let us in. Sure, he’s gotten down in the mud with the LIV stuff and regretted it as it relates to some of the vitriol and jabs at Norman, and been led by his emotions, for better or worse. But when Bryson’s beating you in that last category, it just feels off. Rory’s talked at length about the PGA Tour being an entertainment product. This is squarely that. Meanwhile, the Tour and everyone in its orbit, has tried to double down on “We are the serious, competitive golf product and we do things the right way.” When the high ground is your brand (or at least you want it to be) then you can’t pick and choose when you want to take it.

Speaking of the high ground, I’m not sure it’s possible to forfeit it any more than the PGA Tour has when it comes to sponsor exemptions. I truly cannot believe what we’re seeing with Webb Simpson accepting his fifth sponsor exemption of the season. Webb would be #202 in the FedEx Cup standings without his sponsor invites this year…he currently sits #133 and this week’s venue should suit him better than most of the others. A good friend who is in pro golf texted “opportunities are the most valuable assets in golf. Give any of the top 2,000 or so guys enough chances and most will eventually capitalize.”

Sure, Webb’s had a great career, won some big events, bagged a major, treated people right and been a model citizen and is currently serving on the board. But there are so many stopgaps and safety valves built into the system already that established guys have to play poorly for multiple years to lose their card, and then there are still get-out-of-jail-free cards to cash in with the “cuts made” and “career money list” exemptions. Webb 

 in the leadup to the Wells Fargo, displaying a staggering lack of tact, shame, and self-awareness. Taking this one just doubles down on that and spits in his peers’ faces and cheapens everything. In the exact moment when the tour needs to be doubling down on being a meritocracy, they’re doing everything in their power to make it a closed shop. Oh, and by the way, they’re not even bothering to top the fields up. The “Play Better” crowd needs to speak up.

Travelers usually crush it with their exemptions: Identifying the right young players, getting them into the field, and then engendering long-term goodwill that results in those guys showing up later on in their careers. While it’s a Signature Event now and that matters less, they still opted to get one young player this year in Michael Thorbjornsen (who finished fourth as an amateur in 2022). Even Horschel is fine - he’s won this year and is playing good golf. Adam Scott’s exemptions are becoming borderline, but still on the right side of the line.

Who would we like to see get in? Min Woo Lee was a SENSATION last year at this event and is someone who resonates with fans. Or if you want to err on the side of making it as objective and fair as possible, just go straight down the standings and either the next guys get in or you go totally off the board with young guys who have done remarkable stuff and could use some early seasoning before they go to Korn Ferry Tour. Neal Shipley springs to mind there - he debuts on the lower level PGA Tour Americas Tour in Canada this week and is finding out quickly that low amateur at BOTH the Masters and U.S. Open doesn’t yield much recognition, while guys who won more on the collegiate level are being showered with opportunities and headstarts.

On the positive side, I really like TPC River Highlands. It’s such a refreshing change of pace for a PGA Tour event, with driving accuracy and approach play at a premium, which yields a more level playing field for a wider swath of the field.

Massive week on tap for my Cleeks in Nashville. Coming off an upset win in Houston and looking to keep the momentum going. Blandy and Samooja spent the week out on the Island playing some top shelf choices, so their tanks should be full and The Grove is one of the stronger venues on the entire LIV schedule. I’m even tempted to take a red-eye from LA to Nashville and pop in on Sunday.

The next GHIN from me will be far more focused on golf travel, as well as looking at my favorite driving ranges in the world (spurred by last week’s brilliant setup on The Cradle.) I flew out to San Diego yesterday for driver/fairway wood fitting at TPI yesterday and then scooted up to LA for a member/guest the rest of the week. Coming in as a 2 handicap with a low ceiling and making a ton of pars is not a great recipe!

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Speaking of travel, I had an interesting day yesterday. Flew United from JAX to DEN to SAN, with an 80-minute connection in Denver. Tight but nothing to be too concerned about. First flight is on an Airbus A320 (Randy’s favorite) and the captain informs us pretty early during the boarding process that there’s an issue with a sensor on the hot water line to the aft galley and lavatory and that it shouldn’t be a big issue as they’re just going to shut that off and the paperwork will be more of a hassle than the actual process of working around it. We’re delayed about 25 minutes, no biggie. We taxi out to the runway and then all of a sudden turn back to the gate. Captain comes on and says we have to drop a passenger back off. There’s a collective groan in the cabin. We taxi back, have to wait for a few minutes on the tug and then a few more on the jetway operator for this unexpected detour, then everyone starts craning their necks to see who is going to get off this plane. A young lady, probably late 20s or early 30s, gets up and walks up from the back of the plane and basically jogs to the front, and it sounded like it was anxiety/fear of flying related, and the mechanical issue with the HOT WATER SENSOR sent her over the edge (keep in mind this isn’t even a Boeing.) All told, we were 102 minutes late into Denver and at least half the plane missed their connections. While I try to be sensitive and empathetic to this stuff, there’s a point where once you made the decision to board that airplane you’re locked in. No turning back. And a hundred-ish people’s day got a lot more complicated because of one person.

No worries, roll with it and keep going. Got on the next flight to San Diego about two hours later (which allowed me to go to Steve’s Snappin’ Dogs in DEN!) and hopped in an Uber (to avoid the rental car fiasco which is a stain on an otherwise world-class airport, at least in the non-Southwest Airlines concourses) and headed up to Oceanside. Wrapped in Oceanside and then hopped in another Uber up to Santa Monica. Love that drive and it was a warm, hazy sunset and a perfect night. We’re rolling through Camp Pendleton on Interstate 5 when the driver pulls over and we’ve got a flat tire immediately next to the closed nuclear plant south of San Clemente. 

We got it changed, but I thought for sure we were going to get a visit from a security guard from the Nuclear Commission. Tire got changed and I was on my way to LA in time to get a quick bite at 

, which is one of my favorites. What a day!

I’m not a big Reddit guy but I’ll peruse it from time to time on various topics to get a general sense of the temperature when it comes to NLU. Someone sent me 

 and I’ve been cackling at some of the replies and theories in there. Will dig into specifics during my next turn with G&T.

Doing a lot of trip planning at the moment - Scandinavia and then Scotland in July. More to come there, too. If you have any recs, for Copenhagen, send them my way!

Having two young kids and a business that’s mostly online has me thinking about the impact of phones, technology and social media a lot. After big major weeks, I’m particularly drained, as I acutely feel the impact of being too online for a week, whether it’s psychological or the physical toll on sleep and dopamine, etc. I’ve read a number of thoughtful pieces on the subject lately, but 

 and I want to unpack it with Randy on an upcoming Chop Session and then hopefully detox a good bit in July.

Speaking of the TrapDraw, I recorded a really fun episode with Jordan and my good buddy (and one of Neil’s best friends from growing up) “Magic Jeff” about the YSL trial. Be on the lookout for it.

Lastly, some recent recs based on consumption:

 - I love this stuff. It’s versatile and can spice up virtually anything (recommend both the mild and the hot, as there are different applications).

, especially in the summer. It’s a guilty pleasure (not cheap!) but I feel it bridges the gap between the way too cluttered flavors of Jeni’s and some of the other brands, but is still interesting and different enough, not to mention it’s just great quality. Favorite flavors are Lemon Poppy Seed Muffin and Malted Cookie Dough Shake. I’ll mix it up beyond those (big old fashioned Strawberry or Vanilla Bean guy, too) and just scooped the Coffee Affogato flavor. Will report back!

 the last few weeks (same listener who sent “Dishoom” from a previous G&T also sent this one) and I’m really digging it. Cool blend of deep flavors with lighter, coastal ingredients. 

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 8 (TC)

 Rory McIlroy stared down a birdie putt on the 10th hole in the final round of the U.S. Open. This was it, exactly what he’d wanted in recent years, a putt on the back nine at a major to grab a share of the lead. For all his prodigious gifts, he had not given himself enough chances like this during his decade-long drought in majors, but today felt different. He’d started the day trailing Bryson DeChambeau by three strokes, looking like a clear underdog, and now he had a putt to pull even. A difficult putt, just a hair over 26 feet, but a chance. History would remember whatever happened in the next few hours.

I was standing near DeChambeau, a few hundred yards away from the 10th green, when I realized what I wanted to do. I wanted to remember every scene — every moment that I could — for the next two hours. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to watch one of the greatest back nines in the history of the U.S. Open. I didn’t want to choose sides, I wanted to bear witness to whatever unfolded, and scribble it all down for history’s sake.


Television can’t properly convey what the tension of the back nine of a major feels like. They’re too often showing you shots on tape, then stuffing as many ads in as possible until the story feels like it’s going to suffocate. You’d never know, watching at home, that so much is happening at once, that a roar from the green ahead, or the one behind, can send a message.


 when McIlroy sent his putt trickling toward the hole. When it dove into the cup, the United States Open was tied at 6-under par. McIlroy gave a subtle fist pump as he walked to retrieve his ball, and a few hundred yards away, DeChambeau took notice.

“I knew what he did based on the roars,” DeChambeau said. “That was actually kind of fun because it gave me the knowledge of what I had to do.”

 when DeChambeau hit a lay up on the 10th hole. He had driven it right of the fairway yet again, and though he wanted to try and reach the par 5 in two, he knew he couldn’t get there from a dodgy lie. He understood that he did not need to take risks to win, at least not yet. It was McIlroy, in the group ahead, who needed to press.

“Let’s go Bryson!” someone screamed, and DeChambeau nodded as he trudged after his ball.


 when DeChambeau hit a low, spinny pitch toward the 10th green with his third, a shot that checked up inside 5 feet. As he walked to the green, he glanced at the scoreboard, and saw McIlroy’s name listed first, on top of his own. When he went to mark his ball, DeChambeau turned his back as McIlroy uncorked a massive drive toward the 11th fairway, one that came to rest 356 yards away.

“Rory! Rory! Rory!” the fans bellowed, and McIlroy had a bounce in his step as he left the tee box.

 when DeChambeau rolled in his birdie putt, his first birdie of the day. He did not pump his fist or flex his arms in celebration, he instead tipped his cap and left the green subdued, grateful to have re-taken the lead. As he walked to the 11th tee, he paused when he saw a young man in a motorized wheelchair being escorted around the course by his father. DeChambeau gave him five, then reached into pocket and pulled out a Sharpie. He signed his autograph on the young man’s hat, and high-fived him again before heading to the next tee.

“From my perspective, I’m just passionate,” DeChambeau said, when asked if such gestures toward fans were genuine. “I really care about doing well out here and showing the fans a side of me that was locked up for so long.”

 when DeChambeau belted his drive from the 11th tee, his body leaning immediately left as if he was trying to guide his ball back into the fairway. His playing partner, Matthieu Pavon, pointed well right, trying to alert the marshall.


“Fore right!” DeChambeau shouted, his shoulders slumping in disappointment.


“That was a good swing, G-Bo,” DeChambeau said. “Damn. In the hay again.”

He would hit just five fairways on the day, and gain just 0.12 strokes off the tee in Round 4. But as he walked toward his ball, he still clung to a 1-stroke lead.


Up ahead, McIlroy had just hit a mediocre wedge to the back of the green. Only five players in the field on Sunday hit their irons poorer than McIlroy, who lost -1.67 strokes to the field in approach play. But a good lag putt, stopping 9 inches away from 34 feet, helped McIlroy breathe a bit easier.


 when DeChambeau was ready to hit. He was straddling a wire brush, and unsure of what kind of stance he wanted to take. He wiggled his feet, trying to get comfortable, but nothing felt right. When he finally took a hack at the ball, a cloud of dust exploded at his feet. The ball came out with a weak thud and trundled into the left bunker.

The crowd groaned. He wondered if the U.S. Open was starting to slip from his grasp.

 when DeChambeau arrived at his ball. He climbed into the bunker, and assessed his lie. It looked daunting. He’d have to fly it more than 30 feet, then get it to check up quickly. When he splashed it toward the pin, his ball checked up but still ran out to 7 feet.


 when McIlroy hit a wedge to 22 feet on the 12th hole. He did not seem particularly thrilled, but it was safe.

 when DeChambeau trickled in his par putt. He had to start it well outside the cup, and let gravity take over, but his read was pure, and as he snatched his ball out of the hole, he pumped his fist twice, knowing he’d escaped another pickle from a missed fairway.

“U.S.A.! U.S.A.!” DeChambeau’s fans chanted. “U.S.A.!”

 when McIlroy rolled in his birdie. There was an eruption of sound, one of the biggest roars of the day, and DeChambeau could hear it from the tee. He knew exactly what it meant.


The U.S. Open was tied yet again, this time at -7 under par.

“I'm like, Oh, man, he's gunning, he's going for it,” DeChambeau said. “So I had to put my foot on the pedal and push down pretty hard, as well.”

 when DeChambeau hit his drive on 12. It sailed to the right again, a theme for the day. He’s switched driver heads on the range before the round, a decision he’d come to regret.


“I probably shouldn't have changed the heads,” DeChambeau said. “I was trying to get a fresh head in there. It had a good curvature on the face, but it was a little bit lower loft. For whatever reason, those lower lofted heads have been missing right. Consequently I missed it right all day. A bit frustrating, but the face that I was using for the past three days was just starting to get flat.”


His ball ran through a fairway bunker, then came to rest near a clump of thick wiregrass. When he arrived at the ball, he put his hands on his hips in disgust, crouching down low to see if there was any avenue of escape.


It would be impossible, he decided, to advance it to the green.

 when McIlroy launched a towering drive at the 13th hole, a 316-yard driveable Par 4. It flew the green and bounded off the front of the grandstands, kicking back toward the green.

 when DeChambeau decided to pitch out to the fairway, a mature decision but one that wasn’t embraced by his fans. A chorus of groans rippled through the crowd, knowing he’d have to get up and down from 76 yards just to save par.

 when he lofted his third shot toward the green, only to watch it come up well short of where he wanted. He’d need to make a 22-footer to avoid a bogey.

 when McIlroy sent a low running chip toward the flagstick, then watched it run out a bit too much for comfort. It settled 3 feet behind the flag. He’d have that putt to take back the lead.

 when DeChambeau gently stroked his par putt, but it never had a chance, missing well to the right. For just the second time all day, he’d made a bogey, and now he was in serious trouble of letting the championship slip from his grasp. A few meek “U.S.A” chants rippled through the crowd, but they quickly died down as DeChambeau walked to the 13th tee.

 when DeChambeau heard the roar. McIlroy had just rolled in another birdie putt, his fourth birdie in the last five holes. The Northern Irishman, who began the day trailing by three strokes, now led him by two.

“Rory! Rory! Rory!” the crowd chanted.


“I knew I had to drive the green,” he said. “I knew I had to make birdie on that hole.”

 when DeChambeau pulled out his 3 wood, knowing his driver would go too far. It was not a club that had been in his bag prior to the U.S. Open.

“I found a Crank 3-wood that works fantastic,” DeChambeau said. “I'm actually happy I just got 14 clubs in my bag now, if I'm being honest with you. I've been playing with like 12 or 13 for the past year.”

His 3-wood turned out to be one of the most important clubs of the day. He used it to send a ball screaming toward the 13th green, and it came to rest on the putting surface, producing yet another roar from the gallery.


 when McIlroy and DeChambeau passed one another, McIlroy walked down the hill, DeChambeau going up it, neither one glancing in the other’s direction. But each was clearly aware of the other’s presence.


“Rory is one of the best to ever play,” DeChambeau said. “Being able to fight against a great like that is pretty special.”

 when McIlroy arrived at the spot where his drive on 14 came to rest, just off the fairway. It had hit a fan, he’d been informed, which had kept it from trickling toward more nightmarish wiregrass. There was some brush surrounding his ball, some television cables that needed to be moved, but he had a clean lie and a look at the green.

 when DeChambeau left his eagle putt a foot short. He touched his fist to his mouth, biting down in mock frustration, but quickly tapped in for a birdie.

 when McIlroy launched a high draw toward the 14th green, but once the ball was halfway there, it was clear it was going to miss well to the left. It did not matter to the crowd, which was riding a wave of energy and tension. He’d have to get up and down from 51 feet away.

McIlroy marched onward, outwardly stone faced, but also clearly wrestling with nerves.

 when DeChambeau took another violent rip with his driver, his ball over-hooking this time, tumbling through the wire grass.

“Big Poppa Pump!” screamed one of DeChambeau’s fans.


 when McIlroy hit his chip onto the 14th green, a good shot but not without stress. He’d need to make a 4-footer to stay a stroke ahead.


 when McIlroy was ready to putt. In the left rough, DeChambeau watched from nearly 200 yards away, fiddling with his pencil. “That’s doable,” he said, looking down at his ball. He was doing math in his yardage book, trying not to pay attention to what was happening on the green, but still stealing a glance every few seconds. His caddie, Bodine, chewed on his nails nervously.

 when McIlroy rolled in his par putt. Another roar from the gallery.

DeChambeau didn’t react. He just kept checking the numbers in his book and his head.

 when DeChambeau consulted with his caddie one last time.

“Do you like a 10 o’clock swing?” DeChambeau asked.

DeChambeau heard all he needed to hear. They were going to play for a flier, but with the awareness that they could not miss long. Long was dead. He trusted Bodine as much as he’d ever trusted a caddie.

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

PINEHURST — If Bryson DeChambeau is not for you, if you find his celebratory theatrics hard to stomach, or his pseudo-scientific explanations hard to understand, I have some bad news.

Sunday at the U.S. Open might be a tough watch for you.

Bryson, you see, has found his happy place. He is riding a wave of positive energy. He is, at last, living his best life. He’s overpowering golf courses, creating online content for an army of passionate fans, he’s cracking jokes and innovating elements of his sport, and he’s feeding off the adulation like never before.

If you’re still pulling against DeChambeau, that’s your prerogative. But you are now clearly in the minority. He has turned the tide of public sentiment, likely for good.

“It was amazing,” DeChambeau said Saturday, when asked about the crowd support. “I can't thank them enough. It was a blessing. Man, they riled me up.”

Three years ago, imagining all this unfolding in a major would have felt like a fantasy, like a life DeChambeau wanted, yet felt destined to exist just beyond his grasp. He admitted as much after shooting 67 to take a three-stroke lead going into the final round.

“Just thinking back three years ago, the landscape was a lot different,” DeChambeau said. “I tried to show everybody who I was. I didn't do it the right way and could have done a lot of things better.”

He was always, when healthy, going to be good at golf. But when he and Brooks Koepka locked horns in a catty feud clearly fueled by elements of machismo and jealousy on both ends, it was definitive how quickly the public chose Koepka’s side.

Koepka, the world decided, was cool, even if he was occasionally cruel.

DeChambeau, on the other hand, seemed aggressively uncool.

Leaving the PGA Tour, then suing the PGA Tour, then taking digs at his old coworkers didn’t help his reputation either. DeChambeau was easy for most people to root against, and a lot of people were happy to do it. He was, for a stint, willing to play the villain. So he was treated like one. He didn’t wear the role well.

“It's not a regret, It's a learning experience,” DeChambeau said. “I never regret anything in life. Do I not like what I did? Absolutely. But every moment that I live in this life, I'm always trying to learn from my mistakes. That's the best thing I can say to anyone out there that's struggling essentially, to say, Hey, if you're in a bad spot, get some good people around you, give yourself a new perspective on life, and get after it and show them who you truly are.”

Coming back from that reputational nadir has been a gradual process, but anyone who was on the ground Saturday for the third round would likely attest that his comeback is now complete. Whatever errors DeChambeau may have made in the past, they have been mostly forgotten. And not just because he’s on the verge of majors winning again, although that certainly doesn’t hurt. It’s the way he’s going about it.

He is — to put it succinctly — great theater.

Every time DeChambeau nuked a drive or rolled in a putt, the roars of applause rippled across the fairways like summer thunder. From the grandstands and the rope lines, the crowd showered him with love, chatting “USA! USA!” or meaningless quips like “Use the Pythagorean Theorem, Bryson!” and “Make an albatross!” He egged it on at every turn.

DeChambeau thrashed the air with uppercuts and jabs after he made birdies and raised his arms like a preacher trying to rile up his congregation as he walked off tee boxes. He even paused to sign an autograph in the middle of the round, something bizarre and delightful at the same time.

Part of what made DeChambeau’s golf on Saturday so fun to watch is that it wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t sharp with his irons, and he was having all kinds of issues with his hips, even getting treatment under some trees during the middle of the round at one point. “I've just been pushing myself a little bit, pushing the horse a bit,” DeChambeau said. “Consequently that's going to happen.”

But he just kept attacking, blistering drives like he was about to come flying out of his spikes, then rolling in putts when he did hit his approaches close. When you watch Rory McIlroy or Ludvig Aberg play golf, you can lull yourself into thinking the perfect golf swing requires balance and rhythm, flexibility and artistic expression. Then you watch Bryson DeChambeau and you think: Actually none of that shit matters, I just want to be entertained by fearless aggression.

DeChambeau’s shot into 17 on Saturday was a perfect example. On 16, after missing the green short, he made his one glaring mistake of the day, chunking a chip that trickled back off the green. He couldn’t get up and down, took a double bogey, and suddenly a four-shot lead was only two strokes. Instead of making a conservative swing, he fired right at a dangerous pin, carried the front bunker by maybe a yard, and watched his ball stop 11 feet from the cup. He rolled in the birdie putt and the place went nuts.

“It just gives me a spike in my adrenaline and allows me to focus more on delivering for the fans and for myself and for my family,” DeChambeau said. “It just inspires me.”

If you’re one of those fans who remains unmoved, who still believes McIlroy or Patrick Cantlay or even Matthieu Pavon would be a better outcome on Sunday, there is still hope for you. The U.S. Open always has the potential to surprise. McIlroy won’t be the sentimental favorite for the first time in many years, and that role may serve him well as he chases an elusive 5th major, having gone 0-36 since he won two in 2014.

But we also might be on the cusp of DeChambeau’s magnum opus, his chance to thrill and entertain you at the same time. This is far more interesting than watching him dismantle Winged Foot without fans. This is like an action movie and a comedy at the same time. Late Saturday, DeChambeau was asked a question about his habit of soaking his golf balls in Epsom salts just so he can make certain that the core of the golf ball isn’t off-center.

“Thank you for the salty balls question,” DeChambeau said. “I appreciate it.”

It was a corny joke, probably even a dumb joke, but let’s not fun police it. It was also the perfect Bryson joke, meant to be eaten up by 13-year-old boys who might be falling in love with golf through YouTube clips instead of country clubs. That feels like a win for the sport.

Whatever happens, DeChambeau has found his tribe. On Sunday, they may get a chance to celebrate their king.

Kevin Van Valkenburg is the Editorial Director of No Laying Up

Bryson DeChambeau's Magnum Opus

One of my favorite things about the U.S. Open is watching who, after a bad round, is ready to embrace the grind and lock in, and who melts down or hits the eject button after things start going sideways.

Dustin Johnson and Justin Thomas each seem lost in the wilderness for different reasons, but Friday was a great example of watching a player wave the white flag.

Whether it’s because he got paid a lot of guaranteed money by LIV, or because he’s simply getting older, no one thinks Johnson is giving his everything to golf these days. After a 1st round 74, he went through the motions on Friday and shot a meaningless 75. Once one of the great drivers and putters in the game, Johnson is now mediocre in both.

Thomas did his own version of an ejection. After an opening round 77, his best effort on Friday amounted to a 74. Once one of the best iron players in golf, he lost strokes to the field in approach on both days. The good vibes from a T-8 finish at Valhalla didn’t last long.

On the flip side, how about a round of applause for England’s Sam Bairstow?

Playing in his first-ever U.S. Open, Bairstow — a lefthander from Sheffield, England who plays primarily on the DP World Tour — shot an 84 in the first round. It was a nightmare for him around the greens. He lost a mystifying -7.24 strokes with his short game, almost twice as many as the next worst player (Takumi Kunaya, who was -3.67). The fans watching all this unfold were, in Bairstow’s words, enjoying the carnage.

“I’ve played in two [British] Opens before, and the American fans are a bit different,” Bairstow said. “It’s not like they were abusive, but they were quite loud. I actually hit it alright. But short game was just terrible. You start to lose your confidence and then you keep missing greens and it’s like ‘What am I even doing here?’ ”

Instead of drinking a dozen pints, punching a wall or simply wallowing in his misery, Bairstow decided to hit up Chick-Fil-A on the way home from the course and go to bed early.

“It was obviously a bit demoralizing after all the work I’d put in this week,” Bairstow said. “Chick-Fil-As tend to cheer me up.”

Bairstow had zero chance to make the cut — it would have required shooting 60 or lower — but that didn’t stop him from playing one of the best rounds of the day. He made five birdies and shot 67, a score beaten by just one player, Hideki Matsuyama (66).

“That was a huge boost,” Bairstow said. “I’d much rather do that than shoot 5-over one day, 6-over the next and end up with the same score.”

According to Justin Ray of the Twenty First Group, that 17-shot improvement represented the biggest turnaround between the 1st and 2nd round in 40 years at the U.S. Open.

“I was still pretty nervous on the first tee, just trying to not do that again,” Bairstow said. “But it was just the complete opposite of yesterday. On the 4th hole, I pulled it into the trap off the tee, had about 220 in, and I hit it to about eight feet.”

On the next hole, the difficult 5th, he hit 3 wood in the middle of the green and made another birdie. When I informed him that Scottie Scheffler made double bogeys on that same hole, he chuckled. “Did they?” Bairstow said. “Well, I guess that doesn’t surprise me. If you miss that [green] left, you could be there all day.”

When Bairstow just narrowly missed a birdie putt on the 9th green, he got a big roar from a section of the gallery that had been following him on the back nine. In the span of 24 hours, he’d gone from being jeered to getting an ovation. He sheepishly took his hat off and waved to the group behind the green. 

In 2014, ESPN let me come to the U.S. Open at Pinehurst on a hail mary of an assignment. 

I was going to shadow Phil Mickelson and try to talk him into sitting for a magazine piece that was essentially going to be called “In The Twilight of Phil Mickelson.” He’d let the U.S. Open slip through his fingers the previous year at Merion, and I wondered if Pinehurst might be his last gasp at a U.S. Open, the elusive white whale on his resume.

Mickelson had no interest in participating in a magazine story of any kind. The New York Times had just published a story detailing his involvement in an FBI investigation involving insider trading. He was not doing any interviews outside of press conferences for the foreseeable future. "I'll continue to say, I haven't done anything wrong," Mickelson told reporters, when asked about the Times story. "I'm willing to help out, love to help out any way on the investigation. So like I said before, with an investigation going on, I'm not going to comment any further on it. But I'll continue to say that I've done absolutely nothing wrong. I really don't want to say much about it. I do have a lot to say and I will say it at the right time. I've got a lot to say, I just can't say it right now."

I spent four days following him around anyway, gathering scenes in the event ESPN still wanted a story. Mickelson was my favorite player growing up, and watching him up close, from inside the ropes, was surreal. I’d never covered a golf major before, and watching him get up and down from impossible places seemed like sorcery. After his final round, he let me follow him into the tunnel underneath the Pinehurst clubhouse, where he met up with his wife and kids. All three of them were there to celebrate his birthday and Father’s Day, and I remember what a tender and loving father he seemed like.

I thought about all that today as I followed Mickelson for a few holes, about all that’s transpired in the past decade. He is thinner than he was a decade ago. He wears sunglasses all the time, and his hair is gray, much like my own. Without him, I’m not sure I would be writing this column, or even writing about golf for a living.

I caught up with his group in time to watch him hit a shot into 17, just like the one he hit on Sunday in 1999 when he and Payne Stewart were trading lightning bolts with a trophy on the line. (Similar to 1999, he missed the birdie putt.) For all the complicated feelings I have about him, I still love watching him play golf, even at age 53. He’ll turn 54 on Sunday, June 16.

His U.S. Open record has been dreadful over the last decade. His last appearance at Pinehurst, in 2014, he finished T-28, and he hasn’t finished better than T-48 since. That he won another major, the 2021 PGA Championship, still feels like a fever dream, but his exemption into U.S. Opens will run out next year after Oakmont. Next year might represent the last time he’ll tee it up in that tournament, barring special exemptions from the USGA. I can’t imagine he’ll be back when the U.S. Open returns to Pinehurst in 2029. His relationship with this tournament is either a tragedy or a comedy, depending on how you want to view it.

On 18, Mickelson bombed his drive into the trees on the left, meaning he’d have to shape a shot through a small opening if he wanted to reach the green. I watched him rehearse what he’d need to do to hit a hard hook off of pine straw, a motion I think I’ve seen thousands of times. The fans surrounding him egged him on. Sitting at 11-over-par, the result hardly mattered, only the theater.

He took a vicious lash at the ball and for a brief second, I imagined it carving through the air and running up onto the green. Instead, it nailed a tree branch and dropped straight down, in a mix of sand and wire brush.

Standing a few feet away, I snapped this picture of him, and in some ways, it represents how I’ll remember this era of his career: An artist living with the consequences of his bold brush strokes.

He had another nine holes to play, but I decided it was a good time for me to move on.

3. I decided, in the midst of a day where the heat index was flirting with 100 degrees, to pop in to the merchandise tent and try to find the most ridiculous hat I could.

It didn’t take me long to pick out an immediate winner, this fluorescent pink number that says POPS and looks like it was either meant to be given as a Father’s Day gag gift, or worn by a dad 30 years younger than I am. The price tag, if you’re interested, is $49.99.

4. Speaking of Wholesome Dad Content, bear with me for a second as I tell you a story.

The indignity of finishing on the 9th hole here at Pinehurst No. 2 is one of my favorite things about this U.S. Open because it requires a player to climb into a courtesy car and be driven down a bumpy dirt round that weaves its way through the No. 4 course at Pinehurst Resort. The drive isn’t short, taking close to 10 minutes, and when it’s over you’re still only halfway to the main clubhouse. You get dropped off at the far end of the driving range — normally the short course at Pinehurst, The Cradle — and then have to walk another 10 mins, up some stairs and over a walkway with a sea of fans below, before you get to the locker room.

I decided to take that walk with Scottie Scheffler after his second-round 74. He signed a few autographs along the way, including one for a woman who asked him to sign a shoe, but mostly kept to himself. Occasionally he and his caddie, Ted Scott, talked about some of their frustrations with the round. Being a professional golfer often means going into a protective bubble and ignoring people who are pleading for your attention so you don’t have to respond to every fan screaming your name. Watching Scheffler navigate a crowd these days can be weirdly fascinating.

But when Scheffler climbed the stairs and started across the walkway, someone kept yelling his name from down below. At first he did what he always does — kept his head down — but eventually, he must have felt like he had to look up. The person shouting was insistent.

“I’m proud of you, Scott,” he said. “Good job.”

Writing

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

GHIN and Tonic: Vol. 5 (KVV)

Putting the 2024 PGA in writing (so we believe it later)

Viktor Hovland Is Searching For His Old Self

GHIN and Tonic: Vol. 4 (TC)

GHIN and Tonic: Vol. 3 (Neil)

GHIN and Tonic: Vol. 2 (D.J.)