AUGUSTA — It’s Sunday morning, so I hope you’ll allow me to make a confession. It’s a little dark, but bear with me.

I’ve been rooting against Max Homa all week.

Journalists are supposed to be objective, but I refuse to be this week. I’m going to be furious on Sunday night if he somehow wins. It’s going to bug me for a while. I want to see him taste disappointment. The further he fell behind on Saturday? The happier it made me.

You see, our teams are matched up in fantasy baseball this week.

My squad (The Baltimore Bums) is currently crushing his boys (The Oppo Tacos). I can’t say for certain, but it’s likely he forgot to set his line-up this week. He doesn’t appear to have an active first baseman. Or a third baseman, for that matter. I’m pretty sure he left a couple pitching spots empty too. I could text him to ask, but he’s probably not answering. In summary, it would be a bit of a disgrace if I didn’t win.

Plus, it would bring me so much joy if he claimed a 

Look, I can’t pretend to be objective here, so I’m not going to try.

If someone else wins the 2024 Masters, I will write the best possible story that I can. I will talk about Scottie Scheffler’s artistry, or Collin Morikawa’s clinical execution. I will try to write the best Ludvig Åberg story that’s ever been written, because that’s what my job calls for.

Until that happens, every ounce of my soul will be silently rooting for Homa.

I won’t pretend like we’re best friends. There are other people in golf media, including several people I work with at NLU, who know him far better than I do. But we’re friendly enough that I can admit I want this for him. I want to see him play one special round at the right time, one he is absolutely capable of, and then watch him return to this place for the rest of his life, earning a seat at the table alongside Tiger Woods, his childhood hero.

I usually try to keep some distance from the athletes I write about. It’s the profession I grew up in. But sometimes life happens. It would be more dishonest at this point if I didn’t bring it up. Even if Homa had never recorded a funny video for my golf-obsessed 12-year-old daughter, even if we’d never traded stories or jokes or texted about our shared Lakers fandom, I’m pretty sure I would be pulling for him this week. It is easy, when you’re a professional athlete, to disappear behind a shield and keep some distance from fans or from media, and Homa has repeatedly refused to do that. At times, it’s probably been to his detriment. He’s done it anyway.

He’s been the kind of athlete we insist we always want — humble, hilarious and human — but rarely seem to get.

Masters champions, I will point out, come in all shapes and sizes, from different countries and different backgrounds. There really isn’t a blueprint, despite what many people think. They’re not all country club kids who are born into privilege. Arnold Palmer, Gary Player and Seve Ballesteros helped blow up that archetype, and Woods and Vijay Singh swept away the pieces. But there is something appealing about the fact that Homa grew up wearing out the dodgy, local public golf course near his home and that he wasn’t an elite recruit or anyone’s idea of a sure thing.

Yet here he is, having molded himself, slowly and over the course of many years — through a valley of endless disappointments and embarrassments — into a golfer capable of greatness. A kid who used to watch Masters highlights of Woods over and over until he’d memorized them showed up this week and got to play two rounds with Woods in the Masters.

“He's got all the talent in the world,” Woods said this week. “I got a chance to play with him at the Open Championship at St Andrews, and his ball flight, as solid as he hits it, it's just a matter of time before he starts winning in bunches.”

I thought about all this on Saturday as I followed Homa and Bryson DeChambeau, as I watched Homa battle some obvious nerves and struggle to make birdie putts. I could never play the kind of golf he did during his third round, remaining stoic but relentlessly positive every time a shot went awry. But if I did get Quantum Leaped into his body, I know I’d be grateful to have a friend like Joe Greiner on my bag. When Homa yanked his opening tee shot well left, they talked over the options from the 9th fairway, then launched an 8-iron up over the trees that landed short of the green.

“I had an impossibly hard chip,” Homa said after the round.

Yet Greiner talked him through it, and Homa somehow willed in a 7-foot par putt that danced around the cup like it was doing the hula.

“Just because I was nervous didn't mean I couldn't do anything,” Homa said.

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On the fourth hole, he sailed an iron way left and long. It was only a few paces from the grandstand, leaving him another unnerving up-and-down. He and Greiner mulled it for several minutes, trying to decide where to land the ball. The sharp edge of the greenside bunker loomed on the right. A dangerous slope in the center of the green loomed on the left. The pin was roughly halfway between them.

“If you don’t think you can spin it, you have to go out left,” Greiner said.

Homa hit such a nippy, buttery pitch, it seemed to hover through the air like a hummingbird. But when it landed, the ball hopped twice and slammed on the brakes. It came to rest four feet from the hole. On television, I’m sure it looked simple and routine. But if you were standing where I was — right behind Homa and Greiner — you would have asked what kind of sorcery he’d just deployed. That’s when I knew he was up for the fight. There would be mistakes in the rest of his round (a drive left into the trees on No. 8; an iron long on No. 12; an approach into the right bunker on 18) but they never led to a disaster. His only bogey of the day came at 12, when he couldn’t get up and down from behind the green, but because it was playing as the 6th hardest hole on the course, it was hardly a disaster.

For the majority of his career, Homa has not played well in majors. There is no sugarcoating it. At the Masters in 2023, he was in last place going into the final round, and because the final round went off on split tees, he had to play a miserable second nine directly behind Jon Rahm and Brooks Koepka in the final group, close in proximity to a major champion, but metaphorically as far away as possible.

His T-10 finish at the Open Championship in 2023 is so far the high point, and today he will be trying to catch Scheffler and Morikawa, two players who are not only younger but already major winners. Logic says they duke it out for 18 holes and one of them (likely Scheffler) will emerge victorious. Whatever is happening up ahead probably won’t stress them out.

But I keep thinking about the quote Homa delivered Saturday night when asked what he was going to do to get ready for the final round. I’m sure you’ve seen it a hundred times already, but every time I read it, I think about Kobe Bryant, the athlete Max Homa always looked to for inspiration, even when his golf game was bleak, and his career hung by a thread.

“I'm going to remind myself I'm a dog and I'm ready for this moment,” he said.

Yeah, I wouldn’t have remembered to set my fantasy baseball lineup either.

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

Max Homa Winning is No Longer a Fantasy

AUGUSTA — Jordan Spieth was making his way from the clubhouse to the practice green on Friday, minutes before his second round tee time. He was carrying his 009 Scotty Cameron putter in his left hand like he was toting an expensive violin, but also looking dazed, as if he’d just walked away from a car crash.

No one saw him coming, so he had to weave his way through a thick crowd beneath the big oak tree that stands in front of the Augusta National clubhouse. Most of the people in the crowd didn’t know he had come through, even as he brushed their shoulders and tried to squeeze through gaps like a harried running back in search of a first down. If not for the putter and the golf balls in his hand, or his caddie hustling a few steps behind, Spieth could have been just another patron.

Next year’s Masters will mark 10 years since Spieth won a green jacket. And while it’s way too soon to write his golfing obit, to declare him cooked and done for, it’s getting harder (and harder) to remember a time when the crowds used to part for him at Augusta like he was a Golfing Moses.

True Believers will point out that he finished T-4 at the Masters in 2023, or that he finished T-3 in 2021, and they’re right, there are some yellow boxes on his Wikipedia page. But Spieth’s volatility — always a concern, even in his best days — feels like it is exacerbating.

He missed the cut at the Masters for the second time in three years after rounds of 79-74, and what this portends for his season is hard to say, but it opens up an interesting question:

Are the good old days of Jordan Spieth behind us … for good?

First, let’s begin with a caveat. He’s battling some injuries, particularly inflammation to a tendon in his wrist, and he doesn’t love talking about it. You can see Spieth wincing in pain on certain shots, flexing his wrist and arm, trying to shake out something other than frustration. It was a problem in 2023, and remains a problem this year, although he says it’s not as bad as it was.

“It's an ECU tendon issue that unfortunately I've not fixed, but when it flares up, it flares up for like 24 hours,” Spieth said on Tuesday of Masters week. “When it happens, I can’t do anything that day.”

Was Spieth’s wrist bugging him this week? It’s hard to say. After finishing his second round, he signed his scorecard and hugged his wife, then declined to chat with reporters on his way toward the locker room.

“I’m good guys, thanks,” he said, nodding but never breaking stride.

Conditions were also brutal at times, with wind swirling violently and irregularly. But Ludvig Åberg, who played in Spieth’s group and might be his polar opposite in terms of consistency and temperament, navigated the course just fine, making six birdies on his way to a 69, the lowest round of the day.

“I always like to keep it very simple,” Åberg said. “I try not to do too much. But when it's blowing as much as this, you almost have to fight it a little bit just to keep it somewhat straight.”

In the absence of explanations from Spieth, it’s tempting to fill the void with conjecture. But it might be more damning to use cold hard facts. Spieth's score of 9-over par was three shots worse than the two-round total posted by Jose Maria Olazabal, a 58-year-old who no longer plays competitive golf. Olazabal assumed he’d missed the cut when he finished, but as scores got increasingly harder late in the day, he suddenly snuck inside the cutline.

“When I came here early in the week, I would have never imagined I would be able to play the level of golf I played today,” said Olazabal, who won the Masters in 1994 and 1999.

If you want to pinpoint where the tournament went from mediocre to disastrous for Spieth, it’s easy to find it. On Friday morning, he was wrapping up his first round and had a wedge into the 15th green for his 3rd shot. But the shot flew several yards too far, and then trickled down the hill, leaving him a nervy chip — back toward the water — from behind the green.

It got ugly from there. Spieth tried to land a shot into the fringe, but it kept rolling.

It didn’t stop once it got past the pin either, although it did slow down several times once it reached the downslope, teasing (or taunting) Spieth on its way to the pond. Instead of replaying the shot, he elected to go to the other side of the pond and try from that angle, but that pitch went long and left him with essentially the same chip he’d already gotten wet.

He elected to use a putter for his seventh stroke, stomping after the ball in anger, pulling a coin out of his pocket to mark before it even came to rest. Two more putts and he signed for a 9, actually the second time he’s made a quad on the 15th hole in his Masters career. (The first time came in 2017.)

His Masters wasn’t — technically — over, but it certainly felt that way. On 18, he snap-hooked a drive into the left trees and was overheard grumbling in frustration to his caddie Michael Greller.

“That’s six drives that went 30 yards left today, Michael,” Spieth said.

He did manage to save par on 18, but his second round, after the harried dash through the crowd, offered little salvation. On his second hole, he yanked another drive left, just narrowly avoiding the penalty area Sports Illustrated’s Dan Jenkins once christened “The Delta Counter” because if you hit it there on Friday, you might as well change your flight because you were missing the cut.

Spieth located his ball, under a tree with overhanging branches, nestled in some pine straw. As he waited for the green to clear, he elected to sit down in the fairway, his elbows resting on his knees. Several minutes crept by. It was sobering to watch, particularly if you remember the brilliance of 2015.

Spieth eventually made birdie from there, a reminder that, no matter what happens, he’ll always be interesting. But his best moments are getting smaller in the rearview mirror, and the road ahead feels as mysterious as ever.

Jordan Spieth Is Increasingly Unrecognizable

AUGUSTA — Bryson DeChambeau was walking toward the 18th green on Thursday with his head down, his hat and putter in his left hand when he heard something that got his attention.

It was a ripple of applause coming from the gallery.

He waved back in appreciation, then went to take his hat off as the applause began to build, forgetting that … he’d already taken it off for the walk.

It was the kind of awkward but harmless gaffe that’s always made DeChambeau easy to dunk on, but watching it unfold after a first-round 65 in the Masters made it feel nothing but endearing.

It was a fun reminder: This is the version of Bryson DeChambeau we want more of in our lives.

If you tune in regularly to LIV Golf (or DeChambeau’s YouTube page), you’re probably annoyed by that statement, convinced that he never actually went away, he just found an audience more receptive to his quirks and his talent. But the truth is, DeChambeau was always more fun, and more captivating when his goofy personality went hand-in-hand with his jaw-dropping performance in majors. The dominance we saw at Winged Foot in 2020 wasn’t sustainable, but you still wish it could re-appear occasionally.

We saw a flicker of it at the PGA Championship in 2023 when he opened with a 66 and grabbed the first-round lead, but he never truly contended on the weekend. He teased it again when he shot a final round 58 at The Greenbrier to win a LIV event, but the setup that day (where the average score was roughly 66) wasn’t making anyone fearful.

His first round at Augusta on Thursday was something different. Even he knew it.

“That was one of the best rounds I’ve played in a long time,” DeChambeau said.

It had, truthfully, a bit of everything. DeChambeau began the day by showing up just seconds before his tee time, creating a twinge of anxiety for the starter. Then he roared out of the gate and birdied the first three holes. That’s when things started to get truly interesting. He needed sand saves at 4 and 5 to avoid bogey, and he hit two beautiful and delicate chips. He launched an iron into the crowd on No. 7 (and did, it can be reported, yell “Fore!”) and then got up-and-down for another par. He drove it past the walkway on No. 8, and his mom squealed “That’s the KRANK Driver effect!” as he strolled by, but Dechambeau settled for a par when he rolled an eagle putt 8 feet by the pin.

His front nine ended with a violent lip out and a bogey. With the wind suddenly swirling, anything seemed possible. But DeChambeau’s second nine turned into the right mix of robotic swings off the tee and artistry with his irons. He focused on just two swing thoughts: Tilt his shoulders and swing in to out.

“Trying to be a robot is always something I've tried to do, but it's not something that's feasible in this game that's ever-changing,” DeChambeau said. “I try to be as repeatable as possible, but just doesn't happen. This wind out here just makes it diabolical and you've got to strategically play this golf course and put in places where you can get up-and-down or you can 2-putt from, and just get out of there. It's a lot of painting an image and trying to execute that shot out there, compared to just hitting the same stock shot every time.”

He birdied the 12th hole with a good wedge to 17 feet, getting him back to 3-under par. When his drive tumbled into the pine straw on 13, he decided to go for the green anyway, hit it just long and got up and down for birdie.

But true drama — and his best shot of the day — came on 15 when DeChambeau hit it right and in the trees and had to choose whether to go for the green. He talked it over with his caddie Greg Bodine for several minutes, then decided to roll the dice. He lashed at the ball with violence, and threaded it right through an opening unscathed.

“I was just trying to get to the back right section of the green, and I pushed it a little bit,” DeChambeau said. “It clipped the tree. I hit four pine needles rather than five, and it worked out perfectly.”

The ball, after flying 228 yards through the air, caught the left edge of the green.

“It was a little scary of a shot,” DeChambeau said. “I shouldn't have probably done it, but I took a risk. I was willing to take it. I was rewarded fortunately.”

He nearly rolled in the eagle putt, missing by inches. Another birdie.

“I'm in a place now where I've figured some stuff out with my golf game, golf swing,” DeChambeau said. “I'm just in a comfortable place where I'm doing the same thing every single week.”

He made two additional birdies in his closing stretch, one of them a 31-footer on 17. When he hit a good shot into 18 and began his walk up the fairway, he looked almost sheepish, then grateful as he heard the crowd express their appreciation. As he walked toward the clubhouse to sign his scorecard, he spotted Greg Norman, who was on site at Augusta National for the second straight day. Norman leaned over the ropes and hugged DeChambeau, whispering a few words in his ear.

By the time DeChambeau came to the interview room, he was feeling a little philosophical. He said he knows he’s been a polarizing figure in golf the last few years. And while he says he understands why he is, he admittedly doesn’t love it.

“I'm a very passionate individual, and some people can take that in a pretty negative way,” DeChambeau said. “Others can take it in a way of, wow, he's trying to pave a pathway and his own path. I think that's a pretty big misconception; that I'm divisive. I'm really not. I don't try to be. It may come off that way because I'm passionate about certain things and certain subjects. That's up for interpretation and opinion. And, look, I respect everybody's opinion and what they think. I have no issues, and I understand the pathway that I pave is going to be viewed in multiple ways. I'm just learning to be myself and continuing to be okay with what happens.”

DeChambeau said one thing that’s been uplifting, over the last year, is how much he’s enjoyed making content on YouTube. And SnapChat. And Instagram. And Twitter. But mostly YouTube.

“What's been really nice and helpful for me is doing a lot of content on YouTube, as crazy as it sounds,” DeChambeau said.”It's been really awesome to see how I can affect a lot of people's lives, junior golfers' lives, middle-aged men, even, they are coming out shouting: Thanks for the content. Appreciate what you do online.”

It’s easy to roll your eyes when DeChambeau talks about retreating into an online world, particularly to find a safe space from the reaction to his own polarizing comments. But it’s also fair to acknowledge he’s not a robot, even if he’s trying to swing like a robot. He does feel wounded when people make fun of him. When he was informed by a reporter that Rory McIlroy said earlier this year he wished DeChambeau had been able to play in the Arnold Palmer Invitational, he seemed genuinely touched.

“I appreciate him saying that, first and foremost,” DeCheambeau said. “He is a huge voice for the game, and I respect his voice and respect his opinion. Him saying that definitely, hopefully shines a light in this game that is pretty divisive right now where we can all kind of hopefully come back together at some point and say, look, how do we make this work for both sides.”

When DeChambeau shot a 66 at the Masters in 2019, it felt like he was going to have a special relationship with the tournament. He’d already been low amateur in 2016 and tied for 21st place. But when he said he believed Augusta National was a Par 67 for him — as long as he was playing well — it was easy to mock him when he missed the cut in 2022 and 2023. It stung more than he thought it would.

“Regarding the 67 comment, you know, you mess up,” DeChambeau said. “I'm not a perfect person. Everybody messes up. You learn from your mistakes, and that was definitely one.”

Whether Bryson DeChambeau has been properly humbled by the golf gods, or unfairly chastised by the fans or media, isn’t important. You don’t need to fall into that trap. What’s more interesting is he’s got the game to contend in majors again.

He loves tinkering with his equipment still, mentioning that he put new irons in his bag just this week. And he’s been using a driver that he loves, made by the start-up equipment company KRANK, for about eight months now. Prior to DeChambeau, it was a company that was primarily used by competitors in long drive competitions.

But he added it to his bag right before he won at Greenbrier – and right after he signed for his 58, tying the lowest round-ever shot, he turned to his caddie and admitted he was already thinking about the future.

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

Admit It: You Missed Bryson, Too

The Masters was over, the sun was sinking low in the sky, and I was standing by myself in the Champions parking lot in front of the Augusta National clubhouse. I had a notebook in my left hand, but there was nothing to scribble down at the moment. This was 2018, and Patrick Reed was somewhere else, trying on his new green jacket. I could hear polite applause in the distance. There were no television cameras around.

One by one, I watched as a stream of players left the clubhouse and headed to the parking lot. Another year of the tournament had come and gone. The past Masters champions, like Nick Faldo and Sergio Garcia and Danny Willett, went in one direction. They could walk right to their cars, a small, but sublime perk of owning a green jacket. The rest of the competitors had to hop aboard a golf cart and be shuttled far away, toward some inferior parking.

For nearly an hour, I waited, until the flow of players slowed to a trickle.

I wanted one last scene for a story I was writing, but the player I was hoping would emerge from the locker room would not show his face. Eventually, I overheard his manager politely ask a parking attendant if it was okay if someone pulled a car around. It had been a miserable day, you see. Another disheartening Sunday while in contention. No one wanted the player to have to suffer the humiliation of climbing aboard a golf cart at this late hour.

The parking attendant nodded. He’d make an exception.

Rory McIlroy wasn’t getting a green jacket (again), but at least someone could fetch his car.

I was in my fourth season of writing golf columns that year, and my assignment at the Masters was rarely – if ever – to write about the winner. I was tasked with mining disappointment. It was a role I’d grown to enjoy, because over time, it helped me better understand the power of Augusta National. For all its aesthetic perfection, for all the syrupy tales of triumph and destiny, the way the Masters could rip your heart out, and repeatedly rub your nose in that heartache with indignities big and small, was often just as interesting as the winner.

Greg Norman and Rory McIlroy do not like one another, nor do they have much in common in the way they view the world. For the past two years, they have butted heads and traded barbs, each believing they were doing what was right for the future of the game. But there was one moment when they found some sliver of community. When Norman appeared in an episode of ESPN’s documentary series 30 for 30, and re-lived his 1996 Masters collapse, McIlroy watched the film and was so moved by Norman’s candor and grace, he sent Norman a text message of appreciation. An olive branch.

“Hopefully, it reminds everyone of what a great golfer you were," McIlroy’s text read.

Few better than Norman could understand the validation the Masters dangles in front of you, know how much it stings when that dream is snatched away.

The exchange briefly mended their relationship, although Norman torpedoed the truce weeks later by telling a reporter from the Washington Post that McIlroy had been “brainwashed” by the PGA Tour. Even though the olive branch didn’t hold, it was a reminder that the Masters still floats above the endless squabbling over money and respect in the world of professional golf. Even sworn enemies can be bonded by the pain the tournament has caused. Imagine how fascinating it would be to attend a “Not Champions Dinner” with McIlroy, Norman, Lee Trevino, Tom Weiskopf, Davis Love III and Ernie Els. You might run out of wine before dessert.

The tug-of-war between the PGA Tour and LIV Golf hasn’t diminished the Masters, despite what LIV has tried to argue about the absence of players like Talor Gooch and Dean Burmester. It’s ultimately given the tournament even more credibility and power. We know from documents turned over to Congress last year that Yasir Al-Rumayyan wanted membership at Augusta as part of the negotiations between the Public Investment Fund and the PGA Tour, but that request went nowhere. An Augusta membership remains one of the rare things, at least for now, that cannot be bought.

Despite recent pleas from some of golf’s biggest names to speed up reunification — McIIroy and Bryson DeChambeau among them — the split has actually made this Masters even more compelling. This week, for example, will mark the first time in 2024 we’ll see Scottie Scheffler and Jon Rahm vying for the same prize, each getting to make the case that they — and not the other guy — are the best player in the world. We can take a few days and appreciate that Patrick Cantlay is (slightly) more interesting when he’s plotting course strategies as opposed to boardroom strategies. Or, if Xander Schauffle or Jordan Spieth climb into contention once again, the ache of previous disappointments here will linger like millstone around their necks.

It will even be a chance to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Phil Mickelson’s first Masters victory, and the 5th anniversary of Tiger Woods’ fifth Masters, without dwelling on a debate over which one is being selfish and which one is being naive. We may not have many majors left where the two of them are in the field, each convinced they might still have a chance. Time is a son of a bitch, and it’s coming for us all, but the fact that we can’t definitively write either of them off (Mickelson did, after all, finish 2nd last year at age 52; Tiger has made 23 straight cuts here, tied for the record) is another testament to the magic of the course and the tournament.

A Masters win by a LIV player probably won’t mean much for LIV. The league already has seven Masters winners — including Rahm, the defending champion — and their presence has not inspired viewers to watch in large numbers. But a Masters win by Brooks Koepka or Cam Smith or Joaquinn Niemann would do a great deal for each of their 

This is particularly true of Koepka. If he were to capture a green jacket, that would be more evidence to support that the majors are all that really matter in this era. Koepka, after all, has approached golf’s regular season (on both the PGA Tour and LIV) with something resembling smug indifference, but he was so incensed after missing the cut at the Masters two years ago, he confessed he tried to put his fist through the back window of his Mercedes in the Augusta parking lot.

The parking lot, it turns out, has seen its share of angst.

Come Sunday, there will be a winner, and his triumph will be replayed for years to come, likely as part of a soft focus montage set to familiar piano music. That man will join golf’s most exclusive fraternity, and get to attend its most exclusive dinner. He’ll be invited back to the tournament every year, have a short but satisfying walk from the Champions parking lot to the clubhouse, and he'll be referred to as a Masters champion in his obituary when he dies.

Someone else will leave the property shaken and riddled with doubt. You might forget about their disappointment, but for them, that wound will linger.

If you want something badly enough, you have to risk how much it will hurt after you feel it slip away. That’s about when you realize you can’t put a price on the tournament you covet the most. Just a cost.

The Real Cost

When Bailey Shoemaker counts on one hand, she does it a little unconventionally.

She’ll start with her thumb, then raise her pinky, then her index finger, then finally, her middle finger.

She can use that finger to count the one person who wound up finding solace in both Augusta National and eventual champion Lottie Woad – a place where so many of her playing competitors cowered in fear.

Woad claimed she saw a challenger coming, but was it Shoemaker? With Shoemaker’s two missed cuts and being the second-worst-ranked player in the field, probably not. But she’d still give Woad the best chase of the day, shooting a tournament-low round at August National by carding a 66, but fell short when Woad responded with smooth back-to-back birdies on the final two holes to become the champion.

A freshman on the USC women’s golf team, Shoemaker entered the day at 1 under, four shots behind Woad, but all these moments did was inspire her. She was the underdog against World No. 1 Ingrid Lindblad last summer at the British Women’s Amateur in the quarterfinals and showed no fear, even as she lost. She’d played alongside professional golfers on the LPGA and Epson Tour and made the cut in most, but didn’t stand out.

But going into the week, she had plenty of scar tissue at ANWA.

Her third ANWA began on a somewhat unassuming note. She put together a solid 70 for her first round, but cut day on Thursday brought some of the heaviest winds in championship history, and her game wasn’t coming together the way she hoped. Still, she scrapped together a 73 to find herself tied for fifth going into the final round.

“I've never felt like absurd nerves really, but the past few months I kind of have, and Champions Retreat, it's the most nerves I think I've ever felt,” she said.

Typically, Shoemaker has a smile on her face – most likely making a joke to anyone who will listen. But in the past few months, her golf was bringing out the opposite, and she did a good job of concealing it. In her past two college events, she’d gotten off to hot starts in her opening rounds but ultimately collapsed. Her usual saving grace, her putter, changed from a blade to a mallet right before ANWA, in hopes something – anything – would help. But so far, it was proving to be just good enough to play Saturday.

How was she, or anyone, supposed to believe her final round would be different?

Ask the girl who almost decided not to step foot at USC. Shoemaker’s confidence, partly built by playing a full Epson Tour season as a junior, was sky-high. She was almost sure the most she’d do was a one-and-done. She was a junior golf superstar, having made deep match play runs at USGA championships, was a three-time New York State Champion, and was making LPGA cuts. At the time, nothing seemed too big for her.

Could the good old college try hurt? She’d seen how teammate Amari Avery, who nearly did the same thing, was thriving. At an esteemed program like USC, there was room for Bailey to grow, too.

Once labeled “the biggest draw” her head coach Justin Silverstein had ever seen, the work to control that and introduce a fade more often began. Her first two semesters have tried her.

Out of the 35 women who competed at Augusta National on Saturday, Shoemaker was nowhere near the longest hitter, but for once, she couldn’t make her trademark self-deprecating jokes about her game. She found 11 of 14 fairways. She skillfully navigated the slopes of the greens, allowing her to pour in early birdies at 2, 5 and 7. She was walking in putts. All of those pleas to her brand-new putter were heard.

She made Woad, a noted leaderboard watcher, cast stares.

“I was definitely looking at that. I had a feeling someone would go low,” said Woad.

As Woad began to watch her back, Shoemaker only moved forward. The time she spent over each shot gradually decreased, her strut only energized. Her draws got tighter, her putts more precise and her mistakes began to dwindle. She birdied 11 and 13, and her crowd only increased. She walked up to the 16th tee with all the command in the world but with fewer opportunities to overtake the lead, and was 5 under thru 15. Groups behind, Woad was plotting her way through the front nine and was tied with Shoemaker.

With a leaderboard staring at her as intensely at her as the back left pin, she knew it was the moment to make something special happen.

She took a chance, clubbed up…and pulled it.

The ball quickly descended toward the water. For five seconds, she could feel it again – the nerves she’d been trying to run away from all week long. There was no way it wasn’t going in the penalty area. There was no way this run wasn’t about to end.

Until her ball landed atop the fringe and bounced five feet away from the pin – almost like she’d meant to do it all along.

“My heart!” gasped teammate Catherine Park, who had quickly made her way to Shoemaker after finishing up her own round. Shoemaker, smiling, was thriving off of the adrenaline rush as she walked up to the green. It was a familiar spark to Park and Silverstein, who were glued to the Trojan’s round, wishing they could be as close as college golf tournaments allow.

When Shoemaker quickly lined up her putt, Park’s confidence was quickly restored. “She’s gonna make this one,” she whispered.

Silverstein replied with a simple, “Mhm,” and Shoemaker poured in her sixth birdie of the day. Finishing out with two pars, she’d carded a bogey-free 66, a tournament record for the final round at Augusta National.

Finally, Bailey Shoemaker was here. After so many close calls at the past two U.S. Women’s Amateurs, maybe this was the moment where she’d finally claim a title she’d spent years dreaming of. There were hugs, early congratulations – she’d just done something unimaginable. She had a glow about her talking to the media but hesitated to call herself a champion.

Nothing was certain with Woad playing the back nine. The clubhouse leader stirred over the range and prepared for the possibility of a playoff. But Woad’s putt on 17 broke exactly when it needed to, falling in for a birdie and tying Shoemaker -7. That left the door open. When Woad’s approach on 18 settled 15 feet away from the pin, it was inevitable. Her putter, once again showed up. Woad’s ball headed straight down the line for another birdie.

The door was shut for Shoemaker. Woad would forever be an Augusta National champion.

The disappointment immediately fell over Shoemaker as she hugged her father tight. A few minutes later, she again met with reporters, a visible spunk still about her as she stepped up to the small podium.

“Good for her,” she said. “Especially under pressure, knowing she had to do it, that’s amazing. I'm obviously disappointed, but at the end of the day, I played about as good as I could have.”

Former USC assistant coach Katie Woodruff recruited Shoemaker as a promising junior prospect. Shoemaker’s broadcasted haymakers were classic Bailey – she knew that was a player waiting on the next time she’d be back in the ring.

“She’s probably the least scared player I’ve ever been around,” Woodruff said, reminiscing on the intimidation she’s felt spectating Shoemaker from cart paths. “She will 100 percent be back.”

Maybe Bailey Shoemaker didn’t leave Augusta National a champion. But she left feeling more like the player USC recruited. She was herself again, but better.

“I hope to come back. Every single year everybody wants to come back and play. It's a tremendous opportunity to play the final round at Augusta National. That's all anybody could ask for,” she remarked.

“You made the most of it,” one reporter responded.

“I did make the most of it,” she smiled. “Finally.”

Bailey Shoemaker Will Be Back

36 mph gusts, tear-stained faces, and sighs of relief.

Welcome to cut day at Champions Retreat, where the character development is real.

Tame first-round conditions instilled a sense of hope in everyone – receptive greens, mild wind – players spoke with confidence heading into Thursday’s second round, the 18-hole sprint to making it to the final round at Augusta National Golf Club.

Instead, they were met with some of the toughest conditions that veterans could remember. Brutal winds knocked even the most experienced players off their feet. Second-guessing shots and club selection led to some regrettable errors.

It’s a tournament designed for the game’s best, but a day designed for the game’s toughest.

35 players survived and now advance to Saturday’s final round at Augusta National – but with a day in between for a practice round, there’s plenty to reflect on and anticipate ahead of it.

For a second year in a row, defending champion Anna Davis was assessed a penalty for a rules violation.

In 2023, it was for using lift, clean, place in the rough twice, giving her a four-shot penalty. This year? Slow play on the 17th hole, after she’d been warned once on the fifth hole. That ultimately cost her the cut, with Davis reportedly declining to talk about it after.

I spent 7 holes behind Davis’ group on Wednesday – watching Amanda Sambach, Yana Wilson and Rocio Tejedo. Twice, that group was warned that they were out of position. None of the members of that trio spent much time over their shots, and once they reached the par-3 eighth, they spent a few minutes waiting for Davis’ group to clear.

That said, slow play isn’t uncommon out here.

Florida State sophomore Lottie Woad and 16-year-old Gianna Clemente were the only two players on Thursday to play 36 holes at Champions Retreat under par – landing themselves in Saturday’s final group. 

Woad currently leads at 5-under, two shots clear of Clemente who is tied for second. Each played the event for the first time last year and made the cut – but simultaneously, craved more.

“I feel like coming into this week I wanted a little bit more than that. Obviously to make the cut and play it in competition again, but I think maybe just being in one of the leading groups and having the bigger crowds and the more pressure. I think I wanted a little bit more out of this week,” 16-year-old Clemente said.

Clemente and Woad may not share much outside of a tee time on Saturday, but both are clearly playing fearless. Admitting that she paid attention to leaderboards, Woad wasn’t afraid to confront a costly two-bogey stretch early in the day. A 7-iron into the wind on the par 5 ninth hole that left her a tap-in for birdie led to a bogey-free10-hole stretch to seal the 36-hole lead.

It wasn’t her favorite shot of the day, but it was arguably the most important.

“I didn’t think I’d be leading when I was 3-over through 8 today,” she said.

Maybe she couldn’t deal with the pressure of a Rose Zhang comparison at last year’s ANWA, but Zhang’s successor as the No. 1 amateur is playing like the title suggests.

On Tuesday, after a first-round 67, reporters made Ingrid Lindblad’s missed cut in 2023 a point of emphasis. She candidly admitted that the comparison wore her down, but was optimistic after finishing T2. On Wednesday, the brutal conditions had no mercy on Lindblad, and she went +4 in her first 5 holes, her putter letting her down. It looked like all the progress, confidence – was out the window. Until she parred the rest of the way and securely dropped just three spots down the leaderboard.

In the year between her least favorite ANWA and now, Lindblad has brought her mental game to new heights. Last fall, she endured one of the toughest tests of her entire career. Wanting to feel her game out in the pro ranks and earn a little status, she entered Q-School last fall and advanced to Stage II. When she arrived in Venice, FL, Delta had lost her luggage. Noticing her AirTag signaled a house, Lindblad filed a police report and frantically rushed to the nearest Lululemon to buy some clothes that she could compete in. But what was most important couldn’t be replaced, which included a sentimental stuffed bunny.

In a quest for security in life after college golf, she felt incomplete. But she pushed it all aside to dominate curious amateurs like her and professionals vying for their careers in medaling at the event. She opted not to compete in Q-Series to finish out her eligibility at LSU. (Eventually, she says, Delta reimbursed her.)

In between recalling the tale on Wednesday, Lindblad took a glance at the ANWA leaderboard and smiled. “Oh! I’m T5 now.”

In her five years of college, among the 14 wins and dozens of other accolades, there are fewer moments that are too big for Ingrid Lindblad. But that’s why she’s the best in the world.

Imposter syndrome was once rampant among many ANWA competitors.

Not young players. Not first-timers. But proven competitors, like Michigan fifth-year Hailey Borja, who last played in 2022 and contended on the final day at Augusta National. Still, she was deep into a battle with self-doubt. She had struggled with her golf game in the year that followed and was ineligible for an invitation in 2023. Later that year, she made a statement run at the 2023 U.S. Women’s Amateur at Bel-Air Country Club when she advanced to the semifinals – the moment where it all came together.

“It made me realize that I belong where I am,” Borja says with certainty. “Sometimes, I think a lot of players feel like they're a little bit of an imposter almost like it's not real or it doesn't feel like I belong here. But I think being in that final four at the Am really made me feel confident in my game and in myself that I do belong here, and I am able to compete with all these players.”

Borja is tied for fifth heading into Saturday’s final round. But ahead of her, tied for second, Maisie Filler recalls her own difficulty with recognizing her own ability.

I was definitely uncertain of myself and was wondering if I belonged in certain settings. But once I got to college, I realized I do belong anywhere,” Filler, now a senior at the University of Florida, is sixth-best college golfer in the world.

Coming here and knowing that I earned a place in this especially gave me confidence that I am one of the best in the world.”

17-year-old Eila Galitsky has seen more of the golf world than most of the Augusta National Women’s Amateur field. Even those who had made it to the final round, something she missed out on her first time in 2023.

On Wednesday afternoon, Galitsky finished tied for 5th, calmly walking to the media area afterward. She emulated the demeanors she’d witnessed from professionals in three major championships, explaining to reporters how it contributed to some maturing.

But an hour later, she was found putting in some extra work on the driving range – until she received a FaceTime. “I made the cut!” she shouts with childlike joy, walking away from her golf bag and crouching to fill them in.

Perhaps the most mature part was realizing just how much making the cut meant.

ANWA 2024: Sights and Scenes Heading into the Final Round

The Augusta National Women’s Amateur in its five years of existence has been many things: dramatic, exciting, life-changing, and empowering.

I understand the favorite winning in 2023 defies that logic, but she won it in the most unlikely fashion. We were so used to Rose Zhang obliterating everyone, and instead, she barely survived last year’s round, winning a playoff.

I’d suggest continuing to set aside any crystal balls for 2024, but it’s always fun to speculate what could be at ANWA, where the best in women’s amateur golf compete for its biggest title. Its format has long demanded that kind of greatness: Two days spent at Champions Retreat before a cut decides the top 30 and ties that advance to Saturday’s final round at Augusta National Golf Club.

In the post-Rose Zhang era, women’s amateur golf is trying to establish a unique identity. Its biggest stage typically informs that. This year, in particular, means ushering in a new generation of top players who could be around for a while (unless, of course, they turn professional).

And just because they’re young doesn’t mean they haven’t been around before. Of course, there’s past champion Anna Davis, who early enrolled at Auburn this spring and has remained spectacular since her victory in 2022. 16-year-old Gianna Clemente, who made headlines for Monday qualifying for three LPGA events in a row back in 2022, has parlayed her high level of play into her second ANWA invite after making the cut in 2023. This time, aware of her capabilities, her own personal ceiling has risen. Known for her proficient ball-striking, she took plenty of notes after her first year and has brought her game to a level she’s confident in.

She knows the biggest obstacle, Champions Retreat, isn’t a walk in the park.

“I’ve always been really good on tough golf courses,” Clemente says. “It’s playing really firm, which is an advantage for me.”

Like other up-and-comers, Clemente knows this week has major implications, outside of capturing the crown jewel of women’s amateur golf. The winner takes home exemptions into four major championships: the Chevron Championship, the U.S. Women’s Open, the Women’s Open and the Evian Championship. Playing these can further your case as an amateur star, and perhaps open the door to one more exclusive opportunity: a spot on this summer’s Curtis Cup team.

“I try not to think about that during the tournament,” Clemente says, though she admits, “it’s a common thought off the course.”

Like Clemente, the two most recent U.S. Girls’ Junior Champions, Yana Wilson and Kiara Romero, are entering into this group of young, top-notch American amateurs. Both 17 years of age, Romero has already claimed two victories in her freshman year at Oregon, while Wilson, who will be joining her in the fall, expects similar success.

There are some seasoned collegians who are firmly in this contender conversation, too. Catherine Park and Zoe Campos, who compete at rival schools, are helping lead the way for USC and UCLA, respectively. Park, who was the only player on her team to go 3-0 in the match play portion of the 2023 NCAA Championship, has collected two top-fives and a win in her sophomore year. Junior Campos has won three times, a tremendous response to a difficult beginning of her college career.

“Confidence is a really big factor,” Campos said. “Just the last two years I've really built on that and just playing well, and then learning from my freshman year, I guess, too. I struggled a lot then. You just have to accept and just know that you're going to have bad days, bad years, bad months. I think it's just really important to know that there are a lot of outcomes out there, and you just have to take what it is and move forward.”

And despite three out of four past ANWA champions being Americans, the international side of the field is deeper than it's ever been. This event has seen the best and worst of Sweden’s Ingrid Lindblad, from contending in her first two starts to missing the cut last year, shooting an ugly, uncharacteristic 78 in her second round at Champions Retreat.

Americans aside, Japan leads the way in representation with nine players in the field – while Spain is not far behind with seven, and arguably, the strongest group top to bottom of any non-US country. Poised to take the number one spot in WAGR once Ingrid Lindblad departs for the pro ranks, Julia Lopez Ramirez has made an incredible case for Spanish golf. A third place finish at Pebble Beach earlier in the season and a win against one of the toughest fields in college golf at the Darius Rucker Intercollegiate makes Lopez Ramirez a standout among her countrywomen.

Paula Martin Sampedro, a freshman at Stanford, has made her own statement in earning an invitation to the event – but recognizes how talented the group is. The average WAGR rank of each of the seven Spanish players? 19, with two in the top 10.

“It’s crazy to have all of us here, especially because we’ve grown up competing against each other,” Martin Sampedro says. “It almost feels like a Spanish event.”

It wasn’t long ago when red, white, and blue was all anyone saw on the WAGR top 10. That’s not to say it won’t return, given the American young guns who are dominating on the younger levels of amateur golf. But it’s hard to deny this era of parity in women’s amateur golf – and the Augusta National Women’s Amateur has rolled out the red carpet just in time.

ANWA 2024: The Future Is Here

Amari Avery wasn’t afraid. The moment didn’t feel too big for her.

It didn’t matter that she was just a freshman, or that she’d never played in a Curtis Cup. She didn’t flinch at the daunting setup at Merion East.

For two days at the 2022 Curtis Cup, Amari hit booming drives, towering irons, and rolled in almost every important putt. When her opponents chose conservative targets, Amari doubled down and got aggressive.

“I don't see a point in being too calm,” she told reporters, when asked if her style of play could hold up. “I think you might as well get turnt.”

The Curtis Cup — a biennial competition featuring three days of match-play between amateurs from the United States and amateurs from Great Britain & Ireland — has always been a good window into who might emerge as a future star in the world of women’s golf. Amari had been semi-famous in golf circles since 2013, when she was featured as an 8-year-old prodigy in the Netflix documentary “The Short Game” but this felt like the culmination of something that had been building for years.

Her intimidating glare and her fluid, athletic swing was the buzz of the competition.

Writing

Max Homa Winning is No Longer a Fantasy

Jordan Spieth Is Increasingly Unrecognizable

Admit It: You Missed Bryson, Too

The Real Cost

Bailey Shoemaker Will Be Back

ANWA 2024: Sights and Scenes Heading into the Final Round

ANWA 2024: The Future Is Here

Allow Amari Avery to Reintroduce Herself

Let's Stay Together

Rachel Heck: Why I'm Remaining An Amateur

Hey Golf: More Of This, Please

The Inexplicable Survival of Jay Monahan

Pen Pals: What to make of Anthony Kim's return

What's Burning At The Killhouse: Feb 2024 Check-In

Jason Isbell and The Elephant In The Room

Nest Member Gift Reactions

Tiger Woods is Trying to Move On

What Makes Riviera Country Club Great?