AN OPEN VERDICT
THE 2025 OPEN CHAMPIONSHIP
NO ONE COULD GET NEAR HIM; NO ONE COULD LAY A GLOVE ON HIM. A WEEK AFTER THE SCOTTISH OPEN, WE HAD THE SCOTTIE OPEN, HIS FOURTH MAJOR TITLE. HOW MANY MORE CAN HE WIN BEFORE HE’S THROUGH?
You hate to carp unnecessarily but I’m really not sure about Scheffler’s back-swing. I’m no expert but rhythm is clearly an issue, that and the footwork; indeed, to my untutored eye, he just doesn’t appear to be getting his weight fully through the ball. But, hey, given he’s only, what, 14 months old and he was swinging a plastic driver on a vicious upslope beside the 18th green while Dad was busy thanking the green-keepers, perhaps we should cut Bennett Scheffler some slack here, the more so when you can barely see over the top of a silver Claret Jug. It’ll come. Give the kid some time.
As for his father, well, right now, Bennett’s Daddy is everyone’s Daddy; he’s the Gov’ner; he’s the Big Kahuna Burger. In the fretful elements of round two at the 2025 Open Championship, Hoodie Scheffler shot 64, took Royal Portrush by the scruff of the neck and never let go. But, let’s face it, the writing was on the wall the day before when he hit just three fairways, shot 68 and was one off the lead. Right then, you thought; if this guy knuckles down on the practice ground and irons out the kinks in his Big Stick, this’ll be a three-day cakewalk. And so it proved.
Scottie Scheffler’s not just beating the best players in golf; he’s eating their lunch. He won the 2022 US Masters by three, the 2024 US Masters by four, this year’s USPGA Championship by five and - now - the Open Championship by four. Since he edged out Patrick Cantley in a play-off at the WM Phoenix Open in 2022 to snatch his very first PGA title, he’s won seventeen times on the Tour. That’s in just three years. And for what it’s worth, let’s chuck in an Olympic gold medal in Paris while we’re at it.
So what are we looking at here? A Spieth shooting star? A Koepka comet? Will he vaporise? Will he burn out? Or - dare we suppose - is Scottie Scheffler about to become the next Master of the Golfing Universe? Says the 2019 Portrush Open winner, Shane Lowry: ‘I played with him the first two days and even his bad shots are pretty good’. Says last year’s Open Champion, Xander Schauffele: ‘He’s incredible, he really is. You can’t even say he’s on a run. He’s been killing it for two years … and when you see his name up on a leaderboard, it sucks.’ Remind you of anyone?
Look, he’s 29. If he plays until he’s 38 and if he continues at the rate he’s going now, he’ll have 68 PGA titles and 16 Majors. He’ll be cheek by jowl on golf’s Mount Rushmore with Jack Nicklaus: ‘Tiger, excuse me, but can you just budge up a little there? Thanks.’ The key word in all of this, of course, is ‘if’. And, as he outlined ahead of The Open, given his priorities place golf a lame second to his boy - the aforementioned Bennett - and his girl - wife, Meredith - then ‘if’ is doing some seriously heavy lifting.
But, right now, and in the nicest possible way, Scheffler’s beginning to piss off a few people. Harris English, for example, finished second to him at this year’s USPGA Championship at Quail Hollow and second again at Royal Portrush. Let’s not waste too many tears here given that getting his arse kicked - twice - bagged him $3,177,666 but there’s only so much satisfaction to be drawn from being golf’s answer to Jonas Vingegaard. Darn it, if Diane and Scott Scheffler had had four girls instead of just the three, then Harris English would have two Majors to stick in his locker next to his piebald shoes and his chewing gum.
English, though, was one of the many curiosities of the 2025 Open Championship, not least because his putting coach, Roman Bescansa, had to carry his bag after his regular caddie, Eric Larsen, was refused a visa for a past drug-dealing conviction. Conversely, Thailand’s Sadom Kaewkanjana was looking to become the first ordained monk to lift the Claret Jug. Alas, he missed the cut.
And then there was Chris Gotterup - arms like raw hams - who hits the very dimples off his ball; by the time he reaches the fourth fairway, his Bridgestone Tour BX is almost square. The World Ranked #158 - technically, given his Danish ancestry, it’s Gøtterup not Gotterup - warmed up for The Championship by winning the Scottish Open and then came home third at Royal Portrush. A fortnight across the pond netted the guy $2,703,000. It may take him another fortnight to lug all his cash back to Oklahoma.
But it was an Open which, on occasions, offered hope to us all. Bryson DeChambeau - whose swing suggests he’s dressed in a straight-jacket - whiffed one in knee-high rough; South African, Shaun Norris, took ten on the par-4 fourth, one out of bounds and three in a fairway bunker. Emphatically, my kind of golf. It was supremely reassuring.
And then there were the hissy-fits; again, very much my kind of golf. I lost count of the number of times Sky Sports had to apologise for the industrial language. Is the genteel game becoming more profane or is the quality of the microphones that much better? Sergio Garcia snapped his driver in half in a fit of pique; Bob MacIntyre took an eight-iron to his golf bag - a shortened backswing, minimal follow-through - and Tyrrell Hatton was a toddler with a beard for the entire tournament. Perhaps he should just borrow Bennett Scheffler’s dummy and have done with it.
I won’t lie, it’s tough watching middle-aged millionaires getting arsey when finishing T7 nets you $451,833. The more so when so many turn up wearing white trousers. Golf must be the only sport in the known world where you can arrive on the first tee dressed like a pimp and get a round of applause. Or, alternatively, rock up in your mid-fifties. Phil Mickelson is 55, Justin Leonard is 53, Lee Westwood is 52; each made the cut and a bag of swag, the equivalent of Pete Sampras - now 54 years old - making it to the fourth round of Wimbledon. Is this what makes golf uniquely appealing or does it simply fuel the notion that to call it a ‘sport’ is a hefty misnomer? Either argument - indeed, both arguments - hold water.
And Rory? It was like watching ‘The Truman Show’. Innumerable hours in the gym have given the bloke broad shoulders but carrying the expectations of an entire country proved beyond him. And had the final round not required him to shoot the 61 he notched here when he was just 16, perhaps he could’ve applied greater pressure on Scheffler. But it did and - understandably - he couldn’t.
And that, perhaps, is Scottie Scheffler’s trump card. The purity of his ball striking, the laser-guided putting; yes, they’re in a different class but what they add up to is that priceless sporting commodity which is scoreboard pressure. It forces everyone else to chase, to take risks and, in so doing, to trip over themselves. Ten times he’s now led heading into a final round; ten times he’s won. That’s about as Tigerish as you can get.
And I’m not sure how the rest of golf reins him in given the guy’s as remorseless as an avalanche. He began the week questioning the very point of what he does for a living - ‘it just doesn’t fulfil me’ - and ended it by turning a 156-strong cavalry charge into a one-horse race. It makes you wonder how dominant he might become if he ever finds golf a genuine fascination.
