Planning any trip is an iterative process. So two trip planning enthusiasts/logistics sickos planning a multi-modal trip to a remote region during a disastrous time period for the Scottish ferry system was bound to be a carnival of sorts. Our tentpoles were the book signing at Dunaverty, the associated stop at Machrihanish, some adventure out west, and then ending up on Arran, which isn’t the easiest place to get back to.

Ferry service interruptions and drastically limited frequency to Askernish/Barra/Harris put a crimp into things. Our best-laid plans to get to Askernish were dashed, unless we wanted to scratch Oban and spend a couple days getting there and back. We looked at flying, even going so far as to look at going from Campbeltown to Glasgow and then out to South Uist. That simply wasn’t logical. Will get there one day!


This was the first draft of the intinerary.

In the midst of all of this desire to get to the farthest reaches of the Hebrides, we were able to dig deeper on Kintyre and the west coast, afforded the time to spend a leisurely morning at Carradale, pop into Isle of Seil (and cross the “Bridge Over the Atlantic!”, set up a base in Oban for a couple nights, and get into a pickle on Mull. I do wish we’d carved out time for Gigha, but it would’ve meant a rushed middle of the trip. Tradeoffs!

Jim’s sense of curiosity can’t be overstated. Everywhere we went, native Scots approached Jim to tell him they’d never even considered stepping foot at many of the courses that he chronicled in the book, much less even heard of some of them. Also, as Jim mentioned on the podcast (link here), our sense of scale and distance is so warped as Americans. This often gets lost when people explore the possibility of Scottish trips. We’d be wise to be more like the Scots and dig deeper instead of casting such a wide net - there’s another two or three levels underneath what everyone typically does, and the context generates a deeper appreciation for 

Jim and I tend to put trips together similarly: identify a few mainstays, a few whimsical places, and then draw a line around those and figure out how crazy and far afield we can get, and then dial it back from there. It helps to have some constraints (like hotel availability or additional people in the traveling party who aren’t insane) to reign us in, otherwise I think we would end up out in the Orkneys and I’d be calling my wife that the trip is gonna go another three days and I’ll be home late. Leaning into the surprises and using them as an opportunity is the key. And building in that space to explore and not be scheduled out is wonderful, as it lets you glean intel and expertise from people along the way. Another plus of these less-visited locales and courses is that you can be flexible and rock up without a tee time. That’s certainly not the case everywhere (particularly Shiskine, Machrihanish in our case), but for every Carradale or Seil that we visited, there are 10 others waiting in the wings, both in these areas and in other places.


Jet lag, luggage, squeezing in some fun. The first day is always a bit of a circus. The drive from GLA out past Loch Lomond and then down the Kintyre Peninsula is a treat. Just as with East Lothian and Fife, a flight into Glasgow provides dozens of options for same-day golf (even a 36-hole day is in the cards). Conversely, I recall vacations Neil and I were fortunate enough to take as kids when we’d go out west to go skiing and you’d travel all day and then have to go rent skis or snowboard and then wait until the next day to hit the slopes. The anticipation was real and exhilarating, especially for such a sensory, physical experience. The drive from Glasgow provided whiffs of that: the procedural steps of passing through immigration, collecting the rental car (which both EDI and GLA are set up pretty poorly for, but also have delightful counter agents) and then setting off over the big bridge, past Loch Lomond and counterintuitively northward, until finally turning south hard against Loch Fyne (more on the oyster bar later) and down the A83 through (insert town names Inveraray, Lochgair, Lochgilpead, Ardrishaig and then Tarbert, and Paul McCartney’s farm and then crest the hill north of Machrihanish and peering down the coast in awe with the setting sun filling up the driver side of the car.

The distance is 57 miles and a continent (galaxy?) away. Sure, you could fly into the Campbeltown Airport that buts up against the ninth green at Machrihanish and marvel at one of the longest runways on earth (shoutout space shuttles and B2 and SEALS) and for shorter trips, why not, but if you really want the full monty, then drive. And we haven’t even gotten to Arran yet, which sits halfway back to reality but somehow even farther away. It’s like if someone took the geography of the Big Island of Hawaii, mixed it with the feeling and culture of the Scottish Highlands and dropped it 30 miles from the biggest city in the country. In the words of Jim: it’s not an accurate depiction of reality.

The triangle formed by the tiny village of Machrihanish on the west side of the peninsula, Campbeltown straight east occupying an impressive harbor, and Southend about twenty minutes south. Each borough has its own distinctive atmosphere: Machrihanish feels like an outpost at the edge of the earth, Campbeltown a glimpse at the past of thirty-something distilleries and a regional dairy and shipping center, shrinking away and reduced to three distilleries (Glenscotia, Glengyle, and Springbank - count me on team Glenscotia); and Dunaverty, smaller than you expect, looking out toward Sanda Island, and it’s tea house and wee golf course and then Dunaverty Rock, the abandoned Keil Hotel (owned by our guy Donnie!), Keil Cave, St Colomba’s footprint and the shores of Northern Ireland looming across the strait, the Harbor Bar and Portrush over there.

Since my first visit to Scotland in 2017, I’ve been inherently confused by the widespread derision of the country as a culinary backwater. Whether it’s at a highly regarded restaurant in Edinburgh, a two-person kitchen in a tiny clubhouse on Arran or Moray, or at a tea room in Dunaverty, I’ve been blown away by the ingredients and preparations. From the toasties and soup at a pub or small clubhouse, or oysters, langoustines, local beef, and fantastic veggies, it feels like Scotland is starting to stick up for itself to the wider world, showcasing the great ingredients and deep traditions, and showing that there’s more than pub food and Full Scottish Breakfasts (both of which are delightful!)


Also: Scotch Whiskey. With each progressive trip and new locale, I try to dig deeper on a different interpretation of Scotch. For years I tended toward American or even Irish Whiskeys, turned off by the peatiness in some of the mainstays on the Scotch Whiskey scene. Since then, I’ve realized there’s a lot more than just that flavor profile, even on Islay, which I’d always referenced as the peatiest of them all.

Jim drinking whiskey in our hotel with a great view.

Oban is a delight. Just go. Have never been to Queenstown, New Zealand, but this is what I picture it to be: a gateway to adventure and discovery, and with a bunch of world-class offerings to keep you sated when you return to the de facto home base. A highlight of the trip was the restaurant EE-USK, located on the waterfront in Oban. It’s an institution and rarely is a view like the one on offer matched by the quality of ingredients and skillful preparation (and by the Scotch list.) We did not get a chance to visit the Oban Seafood Hut (colloquially know as The Green Shack), but Jim swears by it. Really the whole strand in Oban is full of delightful bars and restaurants that go the extra mile in leveraging the world-class ingredients showing up on the docks a few yards away each evening. This increasing pride i

Other culinary standouts from the trip included Loch Fyne Oyster Bar on the initial drive down from Glasgow, the Corrie Hotel’s restaurant and bar (exactly what a small hotel restaurant should aspire to be), the haggis nachos at both the Black Sheep Pub and the Machrihanish Clubhouse (both supported by the same restaurant group), and the ice creams on offer from Greg’s Arran Ice Cream, particularly the “Scottish Tablet” flavor, which defies categorization. And a cut above all of these (and pretty much every other establishment I’ve ever visited) is Frances Hill’s Muneroy Tea Room in Southend. I’m more into sweets than anything decadent or rich, which typically leads me away from baked goods after a few bites. At Muneroy’s the cakes are virtually levitating off the plate they’re so light and fluffy. The balance of ingredients and sugar is spot-on, affording a certain levity that I’ve never tasted in a cake before.

Also, the coffee culture in Scotland (and in the UK at large) still mostly stinks.

When Revelation Comes: Scotland Loose Ends

A few centuries ago, the golf-obsessed people of St. Andrews, Scotland, made a seemingly counterintuitive decision. On Sundays, the historic grounds of The Old Course would outlaw golf and embrace its role as a space for public recreation. The course is open. But the course is closed.

It’s a tradition that – barring tournament play or extenuating circumstances – is still upheld today. Go for a run. Walk your dog. Have a picnic. Huck a frisbee. Do cartwheels over the Swilcan Bridge. Jump the burn. Let your kids build a sand castle in one of the Seven Sisters. Do whatever you want. Just respect the course and respect the rules: No golf.


I’ve been at The Old Course for one of these Sundays and the result is, in my opinion, a bucket list golf experience up there with any in the world. So much of the charm of The Old Course is the way it morphs, evolves and changes as you look at it from different angles. On one of these Sundays, you can grab a coffee, find a yardage book and go get lost out on the most interesting course in the world for as long as you want. No one is playing behind you.

Go look at that green from the other side!

 where Cam putted from on 17. Could I do that? I could do that.

At least for us Americans, the whole day carries with it a surreal feeling that can only be summed up as: “Should we really be doing this?” As you start out down the middle of the first fairway, you can’t help but look over your shoulder, waiting for a sprinting official from the St. Andrews Links Trust to tackle you for a 15-yard loss. But it doesn’t happen. The keepers of The Old Course look the other way for one day a week and trust that you aren’t going to screw it up for everyone else. And, for the most part, no one really has.

The reason I bring all this up is because that feeling is the closest approximation to what it was like last week at the Walker Cup, where fans on-site got an up-close look at the future of competitive golf through a lens that felt much more like the sport’s past.

(Pause: If you’re unfamiliar with the Walker Cup, 

from myself and Wolfie. Despite a great start from the GB&I squad, the U.S. completed a comeback victory on the final day.)


I can’t believe I had never been to a Walker Cup. I still can’t believe they could all be like that – that chaotic, intimate and historic – but the people who make a point to attend each one insist that they are. That’s why they go.


Yes, there are technically ropes, held by volunteers who make sure competitors have enough space to execute shots. But after the ball is away, fans, players and caddies march toward the next shot together, shoulder-to-shoulder, before spectators form an unbroken circle around The Old Course’s massive double greens. You know that feeling of camping out behind a tee box for six groups just to have an eventual view of a Rory driver? At the Walker Cup, you get that view every time you want it.

I can’t believe that’s how golf tournaments used to be. That’s one of the big bittersweet feelings you take back with you. There are no life insurance activations or data-harvesting “fan villages.” You can hear conversations between players and caddies because you’re standing right next to them. There is no hierarchy of hospitality passes dangling from people’s necks – you look to your left and notice the chairman of Augusta National is out walking with the matches between a few St. Andrews University students. The more PGA Tour events you’ve been to in your life, the more surreal it is.

There was one mini grandstand overlooking the 11th tee. Even that seemed like it was there for altruistic reasons; not to sell 

, but to celebrate the fact that people in those seats could simultaneously see the 11th green, the seventh green, the 12th tee, the eighth green 

 the 10th green because The Old Course rules.

From an on-course perspective, the event contains absolutely no B.S. It is as pure-golf as it possibly gets in today’s world. (From a non-golf perspective, I’d listen to an argument that it’s almost entirely B.S. But I’m happy to ignore the hours of weepy speeches and cocktail receptions in exchange for such a fantastic and unique viewing experience.)

This type of atmosphere at a state high school tournament would be enough to make for an enjoyable day for anyone who loves watching golf. The fact that you’re instead watching future major champions dissect the best venues in the world makes it jump to the top of the list of best golf tournaments I’ve ever attended.

Because it can’t be said enough times: The venues leading up to last week’s event at The Old Course were National Golf Links, Royal Lytham, LACC, Hoylake and Seminole. The sites that have been announced going forward? Cypress Point, Lahinch, Bandon Dunes and Oakmont.


I can only speak to the experience I had last week while filming in St. Andrews, a place well-versed in hosting and trusting visitors. Who knows if Cypress Point will have the same laissez-faire attitude toward public fans roaming their hallowed grounds? And as this type of hyper-authentic experience goes extinct in the world of golf, who knows what the USGA will charge for tickets in order to keep it that way? (For what it’s worth, tickets at The Old Course were 20 pounds for the day and 35 for the week for the 14,000-plus that attended.)

But, man. If Cypress in 2025 is going to be one-tenth the experience that The Old Course was this year, it might be time to start looking at flights.

It’s an easy comparison to make, but in a year when so much of the conversation around competitive golf has been about purse sizes, guaranteed contracts, personal brands and congressional hearings, my 

 was it fun to just spend a week with great people watching great players on a great golf course.

Soon enough the bulk of those players will be at the center of all those things that are making pro golf increasingly less fun. But for this week at The Old Course, things remained uncomplicated.


I’m thankful we preserved as much as we could on the hard drives we brought home.

one of the best parts of watching this type of event at The Old Course was score in relation to par was totally irrelevant.


In major championships, we’re lucky to get to see The Old Course every five years or so. But each time The Open arrives, so much of the conversation around St. Andrews is about distance, protecting par and the invisible threat of 59’s desecrating golf’s holy land.

In the match-play format of The Walker Cup, all you really care about is who gets the ball in the hole first. I watched Gordon Sargent go 4-0 last week and have no idea whether he shot 58 or 68 in any of his rounds. I know he was able to use his prodigious length to put an immense amount of pressure on his opponent hole after hole. And I know he was playing a golf course that somehow had about six par 3s. But never once did it cross my mind where he stood in relation to par.


I’m not saying any of this is some solution to the distance discussion – having a little wedge into the Road Hole still evokes quite 

. What I’m saying is that The Old Course might have more thrilling half-par holes than any other course we see regularly and it was a great change of pace to actually see it in a match play context.

I think this, along with the microscopic logistical footprint of the event, is one of the reasons the USGA/R&A feels so confident continuing to take this event to iconic venues that are no longer realistic options for major championships. It seems like as good of a compromise as is possible in modern competitive golf.

I’m not sure what I can tell you that his rèsumè, his ball speed and his 4-0 record don’t say for him, but man it was cool to watch the No. 1 amateur in the world play The Old Course for a week straight.


Yes, the distance stuff was a thrill while he was goofing around in his practice rounds – he hit the stick with his tee shot on 18 one of the days, he drove the 414-yard sixth hole and he had a realistic chance to fly the burn at No. 1 (he came up just short). But once the actual event started, his demeanor, his shotmaking and his quiet confidence really did stand out on a team full of stud Americans.

After winning his match on Saturday evening, he talked about his process leading up to his final tee shot on 18.


“It would have been a perfect 3-wood,” he said. “But I would have had to start it out over the Russacks Hotel.” Instead, Sargent choked off a massive slice driver that rolled up and onto the putting surface to all but secure a point.

I also can’t express to you just how fast he plays. What a dream.


 over the course of the week was 17-year-old Connor Graham from the GB&I team.


Graham was one of the youngest players to ever participate in the event and he had the look to prove it. When sitting his afternoon singles match on Saturday, walking around outside the ropes and watching his team, one fan (it was Randy) mistakenly thought he was a player’s younger brother that had found an extra uniform to show his support.

Graham’s curly blond hair, as well as his jittery demeanor on the course and a knack for holing some big, unlikely putts bore an uncanny resemblance to videos of young Jordan Spieth. It was all I could see after making the connection.


Graham absolutely held his own against some of the biggest U.S. names as well. He and countryman Calum Scott earned the first GB&I point of the week with a win in the first session. They then took the souped-up U.S. duo of Sargent and Nick Dunlap (the recent U.S. Am winner) all the way to the 18th, narrowly losing 1 down.


In a cruel joke from the golfing gods on the final day, Graham was matched up in singles against Stewart Hagestad, the oldest player on the U.S. side and by far the tallest on either team.


If I was going to show you one screenshot to try to explain why this event rules, it would probably be this one.

, but as the Solheim and Ryder Cups descend upon us, I have to think there are some other things to yell besides “come onnnn!” and “lesssss go!” when putts go in.

I’ll be thinking on this topic and encourage you to do the same.


Hagestad, 32, has now played on four Walker Cup teams

Since most players who qualify for Walker Cup teams these days turn professional shortly after, Hagestad’s run is unusual, to say the least. He’s the 16th player in the history of the 100-plus-year-old event to have four wins to their name and the first in nearly 40 years (Jay Sigel) to win four in a row.


Hagestad wasn’t facing quite the same age gap that U.S. Captain Mike McCoy did while playing on the 2015 team, when he teed it up as a 52-year-old alongside teammates like Bryson DeChambeau (21), Denny McCarthy (22) and Maverick McNealy (19). But the difference between a 32-year-old golf history buff and a collection of 19 and 20-year-old college superstars was very fun to see up-close.

While Hagestad likely had much more in common with the investment bankers in iconic logos standing outside the ropes, it was fun to watch him pick his spots with his teammates and embrace his role as a pseudo vice captain. When the jet lag would hit guys mid-practice round, he would come up with three-hole games or challenges to keep teammates engaged. With the U.S. facing a 7.5 to 4.5 deficit heading into the final day, Hagestad opted to sit the morning session, despite a resounding 4 and 3 victory that afternoon.

“Our leader in the room was Stewart,” McCoy said.

“And he stepped up and just said, ‘look, I'm not a great foursomes player, so I'm going to sit.’ That was pretty gracious on his part…I was planning on using him because he was playing so well.”


The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come around on the idea of having a designated mid-am player on the Walker Cup team and it was fun to see Hagestad show the game to back up his selection. He finished the week 2-1 after defeating Graham in the afternoon singles. As I write this, he’s making a run at his third U.S. Mid-Am title.


One of my favorite memories from this event 

Saturday morning before the first match.


For the film project we were working on, I was waiting for one of the U.S. players to finish his physio work before following him to the first tee. So I grabbed a seat in the hallway outside the two team rooms, which were essentially just partitioned hotel conference/ballrooms.

Even at 7 in the morning, it’s hard to overstate the volume of the music that was blaring from the GB&I team room. I wish I could put my finger on how to describe the playlist. It wasn’t inspirational music, per se. It was just generally… happy... music that makes you want to sing along. Music that makes your shoulders a little less tense. “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. That sort of thing.

The GB&I players who left the team room were laughing and bouncing, almost arm-in-arm, seemingly carrying themselves to the first tee without a care in the world. By contrast, the U.S. players all had their own Beats headphones on, locked into their own world, their own processes and routines.

In an event where 18 of the 26 points are decided by singles matches, the U.S. talent advantage of course eventually flipped things in America’s favor. But damned if the GB&I team didn’t come out and win 3 of those first 4 matches.


Walker Cup Observations

At the 2010 Ryder Cup at Celtic Manor in Wales, Ian Poulter did an interview with Sky Sports on the driving range before his Monday singles match against Matt Kuchar. It was the kind of thing that, in the moment, seems innocuous, but takes on greater importance when viewed through life’s rearview mirror. Poulter was 34 at the time, and playing in his third Ryder Cup. He was an accomplished player, but no one’s idea of a star. He’d played in 31 majors at that point in his career and finished in the Top 5 just once.

, was not yet fully formed, even in the English press, although it was clearly trending in that direction. Poulter had gone 4-1 in 2008 for Team Europe — the lone bright spot for his side as the Americans roared to victory at Valhalla — and he’d followed it up by winning two of his first three matches at Celtic Manor.

It was already clear the margin for the Europeans that day was going to be razor-thin. Every match could swing the Ryder Cup. Poulter had drawn Matt Kuchar in his singles match, the fifth out on the course, and Kuchar was undefeated so far that week, the only American without a loss. What, Sky Sports asked, did Poulter expect from their match?

Calm and steely-eyed, Poulter delivered a guarantee that would live forever.


“I’m playing well. I’m looking forward to it,” Poulter said. “I live for the Ryder Cup. That’s why I’m here. And I will deliver a point.”

That’s very confident, the reporter replied. You’re absolutely convinced you’re going to win?

“I’ll deliver a point,” Poulter said.

He let his words hang in the air like a declaration. Then he went out and thrashed Kuchar 5&4.

Europe won back the Ryder Cup by the thinnest of margins, 14.5 to 13.5.

Poulter’s nickname, The Postman, was born.

His narrative — and his legacy — was solidified.

For years, American golf fans wondered why we couldn’t find our own version of Poulter, an unapologetic rogue who raised his game in match play to implausible heights through a mixture of moxie and arrogance. It wasn’t talent the United States lacked, it was a mindset. Poulter exemplified what it meant to be an ideal teammate. He was not as talented as Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson, at least in stroke play, but he seemed far more comfortable in his own skin when it came to match play. The same energy that left them rattled seemed to embolden him. Even when he wasn’t having a great season, European captains made it clear they wanted Poulter on their squad.

When Justin Thomas arrived on the scene, it seemed as if the United States had finally found its own version of The Postman. Over the course of two Ryder Cups and three President’s Cups, Thomas built a match play resume as strong as an American during the last 30 years. Not only did he win, but he did it in a way that seemed to annoy European players (and fans) the way Poulter once irritated Americans. Thomas felt like the standard bearer for a new era. No longer were U.S. captains dead set on picking 12 good players, they were picking the best 

, and Thomas seemed like an essential piece. Penciling him in for foreseeable Ryder Cups seemed like a no-brainer.

It has been strange, considering all that, to see how opposed a large contingent of American fans has been to Thomas’ inclusion on the Ryder Cup team as one of Zach Johnson’s six captain’s picks this year.

No, Thomas has not had a good season in 2023. It has been, by every metric, his worst as a professional. He missed the cut in three of the four majors, he failed to win a tournament for the first time since 2015, and his Strokes Gained numbers were the lowest of his career in both putting (-0.21) and approach play (+0.37).

But whatever credibility he might have stored up over the last three years is irrelevant in the eyes of many. A huge contingent of American fans seems, bizarrely, to be hoping Thomas will embarrass himself in Italy, convinced it will prove some nebulous point about the dangers of cronyism or the “boys club.” He is, without question, the most polarizing captain’s pick of my lifetime. In 2004, Hal Sutton used one of his selections on 50-year-old Jay Haas (who was three years older than his captain!) and it was less controversial.

I cannot pretend I know how Thomas will perform in Italy. I do, however, know that United States Ryder Cup captains have consistently failed (particularly in Europe) by adhering to a failed philosophy that suggests you should pick the best players, or the hottest players, instead of the best team. Thomas’ match play record, and his overall level of talent, earned him the benefit of the doubt at the end of a season where very little went right. I feel for Keegan Bradley, who badly wanted to make this Ryder Cup team, but when Wyndham Clark and Brian Harman won unexpected majors and grabbed two automatic qualifying spots, someone deserving was always going to get squeezed.


Did Thomas’ personal relationship with Johnson and the rest of the team help him as well? I have a hard time believing it wasn’t a factor. I’m also unclear why that’s regarded by so many as a bad thing, such an egregious offense. (Americans, after all, love the idea of a meritocracy in principle more than in practice.) Europe has proven, repeatedly, that relationships are the bedrock of a winning formula. How quickly do we forget Woods and Mickelson playing so poorly when paired together in 2004 near the height of their powers, each of them sullen and barely speaking to each other by day’s end?

There is a lot riding on the Thomas selection, of course. If he plays poorly and the United States loses, it may haunt Johnson for the rest of his days, and it will likely handcuff the next American captain should they want to choose a player outside the top 12 in the standings, convinced they’re a good fit for the team room or a particular golf course. Thomas has been hard at work on his game in recent weeks, trying to rekindle old magic or old swing feels (even parting ways with his putting coach), but if he plays poorly in next week’s Fortinet Championship, the glare on he and Johnson will only intensify.

Of course, if the Americans lose in Italy, Johnson will be heavily criticized regardless of Thomas’ performance. That is the American way. In defeat, we blame the captain. In victory, we shower him with more praise than he probably deserves.


Johnson is not particularly adept at public relations. In his press conference to announce his six captain’s picks, he stumbled through what felt like an awkward defense of Thomas, saying he was “born for this” and that in the end “you just don’t leave J.T. at home.” It hardly inspired confidence. But no Ryder Cup has ever been won during a press conference.

Regardless of outcome, we empower a captain to make hard decisions, whether it’s with statistics or with his gut, otherwise we’d just use an Excel spreadsheet. The casual golf fan who detests Thomas for myriad reasons can remain convinced that Thomas is the beneficiary of a shadowy cabal that protects its own, but here is the reality: Way more goes into these decisions than the U.S. will ever reveal. It isn’t entirely statistics, and it isn’t entirely gut. Ultimately a captain has to decide who he wants standing on the first tee when 5,000 people are screaming and his heart is racing and his hands are shaking. We’ve seen the best and hottest players in the world crumble on that stage, and we’ve seen the likes of Poulter defeat players with resumes much greater than his. Johnson is taking a gamble that Thomas is going to be that guy for the U.S. knowing full well what awaits him if it doesn’t work.

You only get one shot at this. You might as well pick someone you believe is going to deliver.


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

The Justin Thomas Gamble 

Why has it felt like a million years since the last Walker Cup? I don’t know, but 

Two years later, ‘21 has already produced some of the biggest rising stars in men’s professional golf: Pierceson Coody, Alex Fitzpatrick and Ricky Castillo have all already picked up wins in their careers. But it’s time to welcome a new generation into one of the oldest traditions in amateur golf at the mecca of golf itself.

The Walker Cup returns to the Old Course for the first time in nearly 50 years. A lot has changed about amateur golf since then – between the ball flying farther and faster, golfers looking like they could play various sports and the fact that those college kids can actually pocket some cash before they turn pro.

 Let’s get up to speed on the best players in amateur golf, what they’ve been up to, and what their chances look like in the biennial battle of the best (or not)?

Hanging around the top of the WAGR rankings for what’s felt like ages, Michael Thorbjornsen announced his thunderous presence on the amateur golf scene when he won the U.S. Junior in 2018. He’s continued to roar in enormous moments, including the 2021 Western Amateur, a fourth place at the 2022, Traveler’s Championship and plenty of success as a core piece of the Stanford Cardinal.

The second-best player in the world was a no-brainer for Team USA, and locked up an automatic selection two months before the Americans were set to embark on St. Andrews – until a stress fracture emerged after the Western Amateur, forcing him to withdraw from his final U.S. Amateur and only Walker Cup.

2. Who is really the best player in the world? (Sargent vs. Dunlap?)

There’s been a ton of fanfare around Gordon Sargent – and rightfully so! The No. 1 player in the world is a force in the college golf scene, and his breakneck ball speeds in the 190s have taken over. Being within arm’s length of a PGA Tour card by your junior of college is pretty impressive, too (thanks to a bevy of honors and accomplishments 

But other than three pro starts (including low amateur at the U.S. Open) and an early match play exit at the U.S. Amateur, we haven’t seen a ton of the best player in the world. Instead, a new threat has emerged in Nick Dunlap, the entire reason Sargent was knocked out of the U.S. Amateur. After struggling with tendonitis during his freshman year at Alabama, the rising sophomore has been indisputably the player to beat all summer. Wins at the Northeast Amateur, North & South Amateur, and a quarterfinalist run at the Western Amateur all preceded his ultimate victory at the U.S. Amateur at Cherry Hills. On top of that, Dunlap became the only player besides Tiger Woods to win both a U.S. Junior and U.S. Amateur title.

If you’re looking at it through a recency lens, there’s no reason Dunlap shouldn’t be the de facto leader of the Walker Cup squad – even if he’s among the youngest. Cherry Hills proved the overall completeness of Dunlap’s game – between distance, course management, putting and scrambling all lay the foundation for what could be an incredible career.

“I think I’m a smart player,” Dunlap said, just ahead of his victory at Cherry Hills. “I think I’m able to navigate my way around a golf course better than some people and I think that’s what helps me play better.”

Pretty hard to argue against a match-play king.

The Jordan crew leads the collegiate representation of the Walker Cup. Headlined by David Ford, Dylan Menante and Austin Greaser, the Tarheels were one of the best teams in the entire country in the 2022-23 season, winning five team titles on the season and made a run to the semifinals in the NCAAs – so these guys know a thing or two about match play. Individually, Menante was a semifinalist at the 2022 U.S. Amateur, Ford made it to the Round of 16 in 2023 and Greaser was a finalist at the 2021 U.S. Amateur and winner of the 2022 Western Amateur.

Outside of injury concerns with Austin Greaser, who says he has struggled with a hand injury for two years and opted not to get hand surgery this summer, expect to see this trio popping up in a lot of matchups.

It’s okay if you’re looking at these Walker Cup teams and wondering who some of these guys are. Unless you’ve been laser-focused on the amateur scene, outside of Dunlap, Sargent, Greaser, Summerhays and Hagestad, few have really broken into the mainstream conversation.

Hopefully, you’ll allow them to introduce themselves as a sneaky good group who have been on the cusp of greatness for quite some time. Captain Mike McCoy chose wisely: in the mix are Outstanding Freshman Award winners (Ben James, Nick Gabrelcik) and a U.S. Junior finalist (Surratt). On the GB&I side, reigning U.S. Mid-Am champion Matthew McClean and international rising stars in John Gough and Barclay Brown don captain Stuart Wilson's lineup.

 as it pertained to the 2022 Curtis Cup, and they got 

. I know that’s a different competition, but there’s a scary amount of overlap in the success of the GB&I squads pre, during, and post-Cups. All-time records favor Team USA in both events: 38-9-1 in the Walker Cup, and 31-8-3 in the Curtis Cup.

I keep coming back to the fact that we’ve evolved past the need for GB&I. First of all, if the Ryder Cup/Solheim Cup can Team Europe, uh, so should the Walker Cup and Curtis Cup. There’s a world of opportunity for creating some long-standing lore, rivalries, drama – all the things professional golf often lacks if it isn’t, uh, an existential crisis.

Simply put: There’s too much talent outside of the GB&I pool to neglect the rest of the continent. No doubt, the United States is absolutely saturating the top of WAGR. But it isn’t a fair fight when you’re asking players in the 

to play against an assembly of some of the best 10 players in the entire world. Please, please, stop this madness.

6. Young men, there’s no need to get down: Examining GB&I’s legitimacy

a case to be made for the GB&I squad. Stick with me.


One of the youngest players ever selected to either team makes his Walker Cup debut this year. 17-year-old Connor Graham from Scotland will be suiting it up at St. Andrews. His record playing Scottish golf has some serious legitimacy to it! He won the Scottish Men’s Open and finished 5th at the Scottish Men’s Amateur Championship.


Fear not – I’m not putting all of my GB&I stock into a teenager. I like their chances on the experience side – in personnel and “home continent” advantage. Even though Team USA has patriarch Mid-Am Stewart Hagestad to lean on, two-time players like Barclay Brown and Mark Power are likely itching to get one back on Team USA, after GB&I fell 14-12 in a close one at Seminole.

The Old Course is the perfect place to do it. For once, history is on GB&I’s side: their all-time record at St. Andrews is 2-1. Sure it’s been nearly 50 years, but it’s about time Team USA’s winning streak be broken!


Or, you know, they could assemble a long overdue Team Europe. Might be worth a shot.

2023 Walker Cup Notebook

Welcome back to the NLU Mailbag. In this space, we’ll address topics big and small, smart and dumb, irreverent and serious.

Normally you need to be a member of The Nest to submit a question to the mailbag, but we’re opening up submissions to the public this month. There are many benefits to joining The Nest: access to our message board, early access to NLU events, a 15 percent discount in the pro shop, an annual gift, plus a members’ only podcast and written work.

Cathie Lawson: I like how the Tour calculates Fed Ex winner; hubby, not so much. What top three reasons are each of us right?

Before it started this week, I was on the verge of coming around on the Tour Championship format. I’m not sure I can come up with three reasons to defend it, but I do think it’s easy to understand, particularly if you’re the kind of golf fan that doesn’t tune in until Saturday or Sunday (which is most golf fans, if we’re being honest.) At least there are no complicated math equations unfolding on the back nine on Sunday, helping determine a winner. But once it started, I was reminded of how lifeless it is. I know the Tour feels historically bound to Atlanta, but everything about it could improve if it were held elsewhere. Oppressive heat plus a bland course in a town with indifferent sports fans is such a recipe for boredom.

The FedExCup playoffs remain a little stuck between two worlds, in that the Tour can’t decide if it wants to model its season-long race after the English Premier League, or the NFL Playoffs. It wants the regular season to matter, and it also wants the playoffs to be something akin to a reset where everyone has a chance to win. In the NFL, you scrape and claw your way through the regular season because you want home-field advantage, which gives you — statistically and emotionally — a better chance to win the title. But there is no home-field advantage in golf. It feels like the only way to solve this is to give the regular season points leader (in this case Scottie Scheffler) an advantage going into the championship. He’s earned it, but he can’t just cruise to victory, he still has to shoot a good score.

I don’t know what a better format would be, other than perhaps a blend of stroke play and match play. I do think you could start the Tour Championship with a staggered start, then take the Top 8 players after two days and shift to match play from there. But no one seems to share the appetite for match play that true golf sickos have.

I do like my colleague Tron’s idea that instead of 10-under, the leader should start at Even Par, and those trailing him should be +2 and +4, etc. That would make for a fun psychological experiment and would make certain players so angry.

David Aneser: If Jay, or whoever is the commissioner, doesn't want the optics of immediately ending LIV, are there ways he could almost get his revenge on those players leaving? From initial reporting it sounded like those guys have to play in every event and it's really hard to get out of the contract. What if he just made the schedule really tough like an event in Malaysia followed by one in Argentina, then one in Poland and then South Africa all in a row. He would be following their ethos of taking golf around the world to places that don't typically get to see the top stars. Do you have any other ideas as a way they might be able to get revenge without killing it off?

Some of this is admittedly conjecture, but I am of the belief that Jay’s position has been considerably weakened by his recent absence from work for health reasons, and by the internal HR mess that’s unfolded within the PGA Tour. In theory, Monahan is supposed to oversee the future of LIV as part of the framework agreement. In reality? I’m not sure that’s a muscle worth flexing at this point, especially if he’s fighting to keep his job. If he really wants LIV to go away, he can simply insist that the board of directors evaluate its profitability and viability after it completes its 2024 season. Outside a group of people who seem driven by grievances, grifting or politics, it’s clear very few people are watching. As much as LIV fans (and players) want to blame the media, it’s hard to escape the truth: People have voted with their remotes. They don’t care about the product.

If you think that’s my fault, or Soly’s fault, or No Laying Up’s fault, you have become totally divorced from reality, and need to log off and touch grass.

LIV has shown that certain markets have been starved for golf, and been screwed over by the PGA Tour’s aggressive over-scheduling. I do think for the good of golf, there needs to be a couple of events per year in Australia.

The scenario you describe, I’m not sure it’s actually all that different from the schedule LIV has currently. Brooks Koepka either chose to play in — or felt he had to play in — two LIV events while his newborn son was in the NICU for three weeks. The players seem to understand what they signed up for.

Jon Fife: I'm sure this could be a somewhat controversial discussion, but I've been wanting to ask the NLU team this… Could Bones be an issue with JT this year? We expected it to be this great partnership, but he has performed worse since they started working together other than the PGA in 2022. Should JT go back to his old caddy?

I think whenever a top player struggles, people tend to look for something to pin the blame on other than the player, whether it’s equipment, coaching, caddying, or even a new marriage (or in some cases, a divorce). What’s harder to accept is that golf is really hard and even the best players struggle to perform consistently, particularly as their body changes and they enter their 30s. We always think of golf as a life sport, and that you don’t reach your prime until you’re 30, but I’m not sure we’ve come to grips with a new reality yet: everyone now is swinging out of their shoes from a very early age, trying to hit it as far as possible. That takes a toll on the body. What if golfers start to age like running backs?

Even if that’s not the case with Thomas, let’s examine the premise of your question. Would Jimmy Johnson even want to caddie again if Thomas asked him to come back? Although there was never an official announcement, he seems to be essentially retired. He’s 66 years old. Thomas was adamant he didn’t fire Johnson when they split, that Johnson wanted to “pursue other opportunities.” It’s possible Johnson simply didn’t want to grind anymore. He has a lot of miles in his legs.

I think if you’re looking for an explanation for his two-year malaise, Thomas’ Data Golf page is far more insightful. For most of his 20s, he was one of the best iron players in the world. Although he has regressed in other areas of his game, the biggest difference between Thomas now and the player he used to be is his approach game. In 2020, he was gaining +1.17 shots per round on approach. In 2023, it’s just +0.36 per round. His putting in 2023 was poor (-0.22 strokes gained, the worst season of his career) but the drop off in his approach game has been even more significant.

If the argument is that Bones has made him a worse iron player and putter, I’m not sure there are facts to support it. Bones has been on the bag for more tournament wins over the last 20 years than any caddie other than Steve Williams. I don’t think he suddenly forgot how to read putts or get yardages.

Clint Novak: Hi Kevin, Do you think some people let Rory off the hook for his Phil gambling comments for the Ryder Cup? Phil is an easy target through many self-inflicted actions, but he is on record as saying he was addicted to gambling, and it is clear from multiple accounts that addiction was totally out of control.  If Phil's addiction was substances, it does not appear to me Rory would take the shot, but with gambling, he did. What are your thoughts?

People who are heavily invested in defending Phil Mickelson’s reputation seem fixated on this point, and it’s a little strange to me considering no one has talked more shit in his career than Phil. To think he is a delicate flower who suddenly needs defending feels rather silly. It was Phil, after all, who first took a Ryder Cup-related dig at Rory many years ago saying the United States had an advantage because, unlike Europe, they weren’t litigating against each other, an obvious dig at Rory’s lawsuit against Horizon Sports Management when Graeme McDowell was still heavily-involved with that firm.

In a literal sense, Rory isn’t even making fun of Mickelson’s gambling addiction. He is taking a dig at the fact that Phil is not involved with the Ryder Cup team for the first time in 25 years.

Now, you can read that multiple ways. I’m sure Rory knows that it will bug Phil to not be involved in Rome. He always loved team events. But the fact that Phil played in 12 consecutive Ryder Cups and was an assistant captain in 2021 is a truly remarkable run, and Rory will be fortunate if he comes close to matching it. I’ve said this before, but it bums me out a great deal that Phil may never get a turn as a Ryder Cup captain. Even though his record as a player has been mixed, I do think he’d be a great captain. And even if he’s a disastrous captain, that would be great theater.

I think it’s a fair assessment that no one in the history of golf has said, or done, more things they’d like to take back than Phil. Just a few weeks ago, he was gleefully agreeing with LIV trolls on Twitter that Rory was a “little bitch” whom no LIV team would want. Phil even took a little dig at Rory for skipping the Heritage after the Masters. Did anyone chastise Phil for mocking Rory’s desire to address his mental health? Or did we just agree that all seems to be fair in LIV and war?

The suggestion that people are suddenly being mean to Phil feels a little ridiculous. He’s a big boy, and he and Rory don’t have to like one another. Golf’s desire to pretend that everyone is a gentleman and everyone gets along isn’t reflective of the culture in other sports, nor is it reality.

Cole Leninger: I would love to hear your personal thoughts on what makes a truly “great” golf course to you. Is it playability? Architectural prowess? The scenery? Vibes? The people there? I’m interested to hear your perspective on what you love in a golf course and what separates a fun place to play from a course you find to be truly spectacular and more meaningful than others.

An interesting, if complicated question. Each person’s answer says something about what they value, right? I feel like it’s not all that different than music or literature or cinema. There aren’t wrong answers, there are only unique answers.

If I had to pick the course I’ve played that I think about the most, it’s Bandon Trails. I like the stillness of it, the way each hole feels like its own universe. But I also recently got the chance to play Sleepy Hollow in a Golfer’s Journal event, and there is something mesmerizing about the middle of the course, where you can see something like six other holes.

But those two courses are among the best courses in the United States, public or private, and the rating of a course is less important than how it makes you feel. Dan Jenkins wrote a 

legendary Sports Illustrated piece almost 60 years ago about Goat Hills

, a dog track muni he grew up playing with his friends in Texas, and it's my favorite piece he ever penned because it speaks to why I love golf. It’s less about the venue than it is about the people you share it with. My favorite golf course on earth is probably Waterton Lakes Golf Course in Alberta, because every year, my family would spend a week in Canada, and it’s the first place that golf ever made me feel something I couldn’t get anywhere else. It didn’t matter that tree roots occasionally grew through the greens or that you had to be wary of bears on the back nine. It had gorgeous scenery and it was where my uncles and my parents and my cousins spent countless hours trying to beat the sunset, just to get in three more holes.

There are three dozen courses I hope I get to play someday (The Old Course, Cypress Point, Fisher’s Island, Sand Hills, Pine Valley, Royal County Down, Tara Iti, etc.) but I think for a course to truly elevate itself, the company needs to be exceptional, the laughs need to be plentiful, and drinks cold afterward. That can happen anywhere. Some of my all-time favorite rounds happened on mediocre public courses in Maryland during the pandemic, when some friends and I got to gather and compete and, as Billy Joel said, forget about life for a while.

That said, forced carries, excessive water hazards and target golf is generally stupid.

Wesley Whamond: Why is Justin Leonard nowhere around when it comes to the Ryder Cup? Did he piss someone off. He won a major and is a RC legend with the putt in 99. I would think he’d be in the fold for vice captain/captain and such? Seems odd.

It does seem odd. And I’ll be honest and say I’ve never given that slight much thought until your question, I guess because Leonard has never made a fuss of things. As far as I can tell, he’s never campaigned for the position or expressed frustration that he has never been considered. It seems there are a handful of players in every generation who never get a serious look despite having the credentials: Hale Irwin, Larry Nelson, Mark O’Meara, Fred Couples, David Duval. Leonard seems destined to share their fate. I’m of the belief that you should get one shot and that’s it, which is why it would be frustrating to see David Love III and Tom Watson each get two turns if you were any of the guys on that list.

Hi KVV, loved your Dan Jenkinsesque summary of your match with DJP. I’ve had this idea for some time: on the Monday or the Wednesday of the Ryder Cup, the captains play an 18 hole match as a curtain raiser for the event. The players could be following along and giving advice etc. Taken to the extreme it could even be worth 1/2 a point - as in the tiebreaker in a halved match which would obviously have implications for Captain selections. It would be content for viewers and spectators in what can be a slow week of build up. Love to hear your thoughts.

I find this idea to be insane but also oddly compelling. Again, all the more reason why it’s sad Mickelson is unlikely to ever be a captain, because imagine how compelling he’d be in this scenario. One potential drawback though: What if Tiger can’t play competitively again? You don’t want this fantasy scenario to prevent him from serving as a captain.

One aspect not working in your favor: The Ryder Cup isn’t really lacking for drama. A match between a 50-year-old Rory with gray hair and a 46-year-old Jordan Spieth with no hair does feel compelling, but I’m not sure the Ryder Cup needs the extra juice.

Jay Rose: Hey KVV, Do you consider soup a meal? (I can argue either side, lol)

I do not consider soup a meal. My wife and I have frequent disagreements on this matter, but I remain firm in my belief that soup is an appetizer or an accompaniment, not the main event of a meal. Especially gazpacho. People who serve gazpacho at dinner parties and act like it’s a meal probably ought to go to jail.

Chili can be a meal, but I don’t think it’s a soup. I’m torn on pozole. It’s definitely a soup, but it feels very much like a meal. Clam chowder is a soup, and it can pretty clearly be a meal, but I enjoy it more when it’s the preview, not the whole show.

Hi KVV. Would be keen to hear from you, or other NLU parents, how you got your kids introduced into golf. The last thing I want to do is push golf too hard onto my son, and then have him resist.

I get this question a lot, probably because I over-share when it comes to my daughter’s love of golf, but I understand why I get it. People who love golf want to share it with their kids, particularly dads with daughters, and it’s not always an easy sell.

My typical advice goes like this: Pushing them rarely works, you almost need to bait the hook and reel them in. When my girls were little, I remember being frustrated that the LPGA didn’t have a coloring book I could buy, so I printed out pictures of Michelle Wie they could color. Another entry point that didn’t exist for me but does now? Shane Bacon’s book 

Watching “The Short Game” on Netflix was also huge. My kids have watched it a half-dozen times, at least. I think it helps when kids can see themselves represented in the media. When my daughter Keegan and I went to the Women’s U.S. Open this summer, she wanted to see Rose Zhang because of the “Week In The Life” documentary we did, but she also wanted to walk a few holes with Amari Avery, who at age 8 was prominently featured in The Short Game. Alexa Pano, who just won on the LPGA for the first time, told 

Sports Illustrated’s Gabby Herzig this week 

that a day rarely goes by without someone coming up to her and saying her appearance in The Short Game is a big reason why they got into golf.

You know what else my daughter loves watching? Highlights of Charlie Woods and Will McGee at the PNC Challenge. In her eyes, they are major celebrities because of that event.

As far as playing, just start by taking your kid to the putting green or the range. I have videos of my daughter smacking range balls with plastic clubs that go about two feet in front of the hitting bay. She’s giddy. These days she’s pissed if her drives don’t go 150 yards.

The PGA Junior League is a great entry point into the game too. I think I can make a good case that all golf between the ages of 7 and 10 ought to be played as a scramble with teammates.  But the best advice I can offer is just watch golf with them as much as possible and take them with you when you play golf, particularly if that’s a twilight nine and there is no one else on the course.

My kids knew who Brandt Snedeker was before they knew LeBron James, just because golf was always on in the house. One of my girls decided, eventually, that it wasn’t for her (she still watches but rarely plays), but the other treats it like a religion. So in reality, I have only a 50 percent success rate. It’s pretty damn rewarding though.

Ian MacFarland: With the USWNT faltering in the World Cup, is Michael Block now a shoe-in for SI Sportsman of the Year?

This question made me laugh out loud (I know it’s submitted in jest) because Blockie being named Sportsman of the Year is not out of the realm of possibility, and it would set off such a delightful uproar among golf sickos, I think we might need to put Randy and Tron in restraints.

The Blockie stuff — hyperbole, the backlash, plus the backlash to the backlash — delights me to no end. You have to be truly deep in our weird golf media world to understand why his 15 minutes of fame has been so polarizing, but now I’m ALL IN  on the idea of him being SI’s Sportsman of the Year just for the takes.

BTonk3: My company just had a large re-org and significant layoffs this week. I was lucky to survive the layoffs, but my new role is a pretty big step backwards for me in my desired career progression which has finally provided the kick in the tail to move on that I have been considering for some time. As someone who recently changed employers, and granted probably not for the same reasons as stated above, what were the main factors that led to your decision, and what should I consider when exploring options?

KVV Mailbag: FedEx Cup Playoffs, Soup and Blockie

Ask any elite women’s amateur golfer of the past four years what her favorite event of the year is, and she’ll likely say the Augusta National Women’s Amateur.


For 123 years, there was no other women’s amateur championship that came remotely close to the prestige of the U.S. Women’s Amateur. But a chance to play Augusta National, regardless of finish, with top-notch accommodations makes for the opportunity of a lifetime. The invite also makes for a nice ego boost.


It would be a mistake, however, to place one above the other.

In its 128-year history, having birthed 123 champions (repetition included), the U.S. Women’s Amateur has been 

pinnacle of amateur women’s golf – its conception before collegiate women’s golf and before even the U.S. Women’s Open. Its first field boasted

only 13 players and was only accessible to those who belonged to USGA or federation-affiliated private clubs. It was the antithesis of everything the championship has become. The evolution of the event has allowed it to endure. Nothing in women’s golf can rival its rich history.

This year, in 2023, the championship received a record number of entries: 1,679. Of those entries, 33 players were exempt, and the rest tried their chances at 25 qualifying sites to decide the field of 156 competitors.


But there was one wrinkle with this year’s field: Only 8 of the best 25 players in the world, in a rankings list overseen by the USGA and R&A, were competing in the championship. Each player in the top 25 is exempt into the championship. In a championship that’s the core piece of the grand slam of women’s amateur golf (ANWA, U.S. Women’s Am, U.S. Girls, NCAAs), where was the rest of the field?


Most of them, including the No. 1 ranked amateur in the world, Ingrid Lindblad, were final qualifying for a spot in the AIG Women’s Open.

This fragmentation of fields isn’t new. The Augusta National Women’s Amateur and the Chevron Championship overlapped in the first three years of the ANWA. Top players who received invitations and exemptions would be faced with a tough decision.  Yes, the choice between a major championship and the chance to play Augusta National is the definition of a first-world problem. Regardless, it was an unfair burden placed on top athletes of a respective sport who have few opportunities to showcase their talent. It took four years, but Chevron found a spot two weeks later on the calendar.

But a few months later, another scheduling conflict arises: The U.S. Women’s Amateur, or the AIG Women’s Open? (Side note: The AIG Women’s Open will not overlap with the U.S. Women’s Amateur in 2024.)

The defending champion of the U.S. Women’s Amateur, Saki Baba, chose the major championship that very title gave her an exemption to. Who could blame her? There will be more U.S. Women’s Amateurs to chase — nine more years of exemptions, to be exact, provided she remains an amateur. So by its own scheduling gaffe, the U.S. Women’s Amateur field suffered. Without Baba, who boat raced the field in 2022 at Chambers Bay, it seemed like intrigue might be hard to come by.

The quality of golf, thankfully, did not disappoint.

Any fear of boredom quickly went away as soon as balls were in the air. A true test took place at Bel-Air Country Club, and those who emerged brought the kind of drama Hollywood has been missing. By the time the 156-player field whittled down to the semifinals, four accomplished players were vying for the most coveted title of their career: All had played in an Augusta National Women’s Amateur. Three were All-Americans. One was an NCAA champion. But none had won a U.S. Women’s Amateur.

It was Rachel Heck, Hailey Borja, Latanna Stone and Megan Schofill on one of the game’s great stages.

Stone made quick work of her good friend Rachel Heck, who was writing an incredible comeback story in her journey to the semifinal. Stone’s command had her 5 up thru 15, and what Heck did summon was inspiring but

would not be enough with Stone eventually winning 3&2. Schofill and Borja would keep things pretty tight, until an incredible tee shot from Schofill on 14 paved the way for a big-time eagle that Borja would never answer, with Schofill winning 2&1.

There are plenty of arguments about the merits of match play, and whether it’s a proper evaluation of player vs. course. But course conditions and setup mean very little to the two players who advance to the championship match. An opponent demanding your very best golf measures true grit – and makes for some damn good TV.

That’s exactly what Schofill and Stone asked out of one another. Stone attempted to power through a calf strain in her right leg that would weaken her swing, doing her best to keep pace with another incredible ball-striker in Schofill – who looked like she was in cruise control all week at Bel-Air. But Stone’s putter – which has been her achilles heel in big-time moments – would fail her when she needed it most. Any mistake by Schofill was met with a quick recovery, including a tee shot on the 32nd hole (No. 14) that sailed 60 yards off line into the mulch-covered canyon. She’d lose that hole, but promptly close out the match on No. 15, winning 4&3 over a long-time friend, who immediately offered her a warm embrace.

“I can't put into words the emotions I'm feeling,” Schofill said moments later. “It's just such an honor to be able to say I won here this year.”

No Laying Up

Writing

When Revelation Comes: Scotland Loose Ends

Walker Cup Observations

The Justin Thomas Gamble

2023 Walker Cup Notebook

KVV Mailbag: FedEx Cup Playoffs, Soup and Blockie

The U.S. Women's Amateur still delivers

Jay Monahan Has A Problem

The Women’s Open: Five star players who could claim their first major

The Eras Tour: How I finally embraced being a Swiftie

Brian Harman: The Hunter Captures Glory

Get some sleep, Brian Harman

Yes, put Justin Thomas on the Ryder Cup team

The Unflappable Rickie Fowler

KVV Mailbag: The Open? Names, Venues and British Rock Bands

NLU Podcast, Episode 715: 2023 Scottish Open Recap Show Notes

My Wisconsin Golf Marathon

Little KVV: Reflections from the U.S. Women's Open

Charley Hull Is Ready