Scottie Scheffler isn't the Next Tiger Woods and doesn't have to be. Yet it's clear he's in a period of Woods-like dominance and may, one day, ascend into the pantheon with the Great Ones of golf and of sport. Why it's a bit of a snooze is vexing indeed.
Donald Bradman arrived in England ahead of the 1930 Ashes series with four Test centuries, all in Australia, all against England, and with a Test batting average of 66.85.
And English cricket types squinted through monocles and sniffed over mutton chops that it was all very well for the boy Bradman to be so flash in his own pan but wait until he plays on “sticky” English wickets and under swing-friendly skies against Larwood and Tate and Dirty Dick Tyldesley.
After scores of 131, 254, 334 (a world record) and 232 in the fifth and final Test at The Oval, London newspaper The Star ran a simple banner headline that blared “He’s Out!” And those mutton-chopped experts admitted that the 21-year-old from Bowral might be very special indeed.
If there were ever the remotest query over the golf game of Scottie Scheffler, it was that the 29-year-old had yet to win an Open Championship on a British (or Irish) links, in British (or Irish) dunes, in the best of British (or Irish) wind, sleet and sideways squalls of rain.
And while Bryson DeChambeau might still be tarred with the same brush following his opening round 78 (though with scores of 65, 68 and a tournament equal-low round of 64, appears to have worked something out) Scheffler’s four-shot win in the 153rd Open Championship at Royal Portrush has confirmed it: we’re watching a master at the peak of his powers.
Now, he’s not Bradman, of course. And he’s not Tiger Woods. He’s not Jack Nicklaus, Ben Hogan or Bobby Jones. He’s not Pele or Michael Phelps or Rod Laver or any of the Great Ones. Not yet, anyway.
Tiger was an intracardiac shot of adrenaline to a quaint sport. He sold both the steak & the sizzle & we couldn't get enough. The camera loved his majesty, his dramatics. Scottie wins with the theatrics of a tax preparer. Golf is what he does, not who he is, & that's ok #TheOpen
But he is, today, dominating the best of his kind as those people did in their pomp. It's the mark of a champion.
Scheffler was the other man to post 64 in the Open (on Friday) and though we didn’t know it, and we didn’t really like it, we sort of half-assumed it: it was already over.
When he shot 67 on the Saturday and led by four, and we learned the statistic that when leading after 54 holes his winning record was nine-for-nine – and with the links benign, the weather pure - nothing outside of arrest in the carpark was stopping Scheffler’s procession.
The talk before this Open Championship was that links golf demands artistry, that the range finder to the flag is redundant. And that may be true. Yet Scheffler used supreme distance control to land his ball before the flag and run it up to the fattest parts of the green.
He was patient and cool. He hit the same shots with the same tempo time and again. The plan was fairways and greens, fairways and greens. And when he missed, he got it onto the green and made 20-foot par putts. Outside a double on eight (hope!) he made a very difficult thing look easy.
It was imperious golf, even majestic. Yet we didn’t really get off on it because he made it boring. There was no charge from behind. Haotong Li and Matt Fitzpatrick weren’t running down the New Great One. Rory McIlroy began six shots back; he wasn’t shooting 61. All we could do was death-ride a champion.
Scheffler has worked out who he is and what works best for him. He’s worked out how to take pressure off himself by putting the winning of golf trophies into perspective well behind his family and his god.
Our sports psych man, Chris Hynes, writes in our July issue that what makes Scheffler extraordinary is his “intentionality”.
“He’s intentional in his strategies, his preparation, and most importantly, in how he lives his life. That intentionality flows from his identity—he knows who he is and whose he is. Because of that, his golf game is an extension of himself, not a performance to prove his value,” according to Hynes.
“His actions align with his inner truth, freeing him to express his gifts without fear of judgment or condemnation. He plays with joy, not pressure. While others tie their self-worth to scorecards, Scheffler transcends that trap. Yes, he still faces pressure—every great athlete does—but he’s no longer shackled by the need to be validated by outcomes. That’s a rare and powerful kind of freedom.”
Still, bit of a snooze. For where Woods was athletic and muscular and handsome and cool, with golf shots the average punter could not even conceive, Scheffler is fairways and greens, fairways and greens. He doesn’t swear, he doesn’t smoke. He only got arrested through a sense of entitlement. The most interesting thing about him is when he slides his left foot out the way at impact. And you're hardly baling up in the pub to talk about it, or indeed anything.
Now, of course, it’s not Scheffler’s fault that he’s so good or that his dominance is boring. He needn’t apologise. He doesn’t owe anyone anything. And he’s certainly not going to change his (winning) ways. Good luck to him. But I do hope the Next Tiger Woods is more interesting.
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