I Can’t Stop Thinking About Shinnecock

I’m not what you would call a well-traveled golfer. Logo-mogging at the airport is something I can only experience vicariously. It’s not by choice—I’ve yet to turn down an invitation to play anywhere—but at the same time, I’ve never worked the phones to get a foot through the door somewhere that even slightly resembles a top 100.

But that changed back in April when I had the opportunity to play Winged Foot. I won’t yap too much about it, but I will say, it didn’t take more than a few minutes on property to understand how courses like that earn their cache. Little did I know that just a few weeks later, that unfamiliar feeling would get turned up to 11.

Thanks to the USGA, I had the opportunity to play Shinnecock Hills, just over a month before the U.S. Open—there was no way in hell I was turning down that invitation. So before the ropes went up, before the grandstands were lined with seats, someone, somewhere was going to let my undeserving ass play one of the top 5-10 golf courses in the world.

Ever since my buddy commanded his drone to return home, tired from capturing low-sun-soaked vistas, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

The entrance appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t exactly Magnolia Lane, but I did double-take my GPS to make sure I was in the right spot. But after a left-hand turn and a short drive up the hill, confirmation revealed itself.

The clubhouse, built in 1892, sat perched above the property. The exterior reminded me of New England summers at the beach, walking the Maine coastline, gawking at all the homes I wished I could afford, even as a teenager. The history seemed to pour from each gap of the cedar siding.

At first, it was hard to turn off the voice inside my head, preaching carefulness with every step. Don’t walk on the carpet, I don’t think you’re allowed in there, is this logoed water just to take? But after a few short interactions with the staff, my shoulders softened and the hint of caution left my gait.

After a few minutes of taking in the sights from the top of the property, we headed down to the still-being-constructed media center for a presentation from the USGA, which included a visit from defending champion J.J. Spaun. Funny enough, it was his first time at Shinnecock, but he couldn't stay long as he was headed to the Truist Championship.

From CEO Michael Whan to Chief Championships Officer John Bodenhamer, the USGA ran through what we could expect to see from the golf course come tournament week, plus a little background on the organization's long history with Shinnecock. For example, it was one of the five founding member clubs of the USGA and the only course to host the U.S. Open in three different centuries.

But before I knew it, I had a club in my hands, taking divots from a range that would soon welcome golf’s best players. My game may not be anywhere close to their standard, but I did leave behind one hell of a practice pattern.

Next came a cart ride to our starting hole—we followed in LIV’s footsteps with a shotgun start—and then it was game time.

We started on Montauk, Shinnecock’s par-5 fifth, and despite my best efforts throughout the morning, telling myself that it’s just another walk, the nerves showed themselves in a quick duck-hook into a fairway bunker. Six shots later, I walked off the green with a double. Under normal circumstances, I’d be looking for the bev-cart attendant to pour me the same. But on that day, on that piece of property, disappointment was the furthest thing from my mind.

Walking to every tee box, to every green site that followed, I caught myself stuck in a wide-eyed trance you only realize you’re in after having to shake yourself free of it. Every hole beautifully asked a question, and it was our job to provide an answer.

I'm not going to spoil my round—a full video breakdown is on the way—but I will say that after another double on six, I settled in nicely and played some commendable golf, especially as a 6-handicap, in 30 MPH winds, on a devilish U.S. Open venue.

Walking up the fourth fairway, our final hole of the day, staring up at the sentinel clubhouse, I unintentionally slipped into a moment of appreciation. The longer I’ve been in this business, “working” every day covering my favorite sport, the more I’ve understood how lucky we are for the opportunities that arise. My hope now is to never take it for granted, never to turn jaded after decades behind a keyboard. Trust me, there's plenty of them.

In a game full of people who've stopped noticing, I have no intention of becoming one.