Man at Work

PORTRUSH, NORTHERN IRELAND—Scottie Scheffler’s latest march on history began at 2:30 p.m. under bluebird skies. His opening tee shot had not yet reached its apex when a lone voice from the grandstand rang out in the hushed silence.

“C’mon, Rory!”

That would be Mr. McIlroy, of course, who was on the first green with half of Northern Ireland crowding the putting surface, or so it seemed. The homegrown hero was in fourth place, six back of Scheffler, the undisputed world number one. It was a desperate situation and Rory’s fans knew it. Scheffler’s ball settled one pace from the left rough and he slashed his approach toward the elevated green. Walking up the hill I couldn’t see where it landed—judging by the muted response, I figured 30 feet. How about 12 inches? Scottie was ready to play.

In front of him, McIlroy received raucous ovations at every green and tee box and in between was propelled by a sing-song chorus of "Rory! Rory!" Scheffler sailed through the cacophony, his face impassive. As he arrived on the fourth tee, a fan with a Scouse accent bellowed, “C’mon Scottie, do us a favor.” A little smile flashed on Scheffler’s face but there was no mirth. If he wasn’t so God-fearing his thought bubble would have been something like, Fook these guys. Scheffler unleashed a violent swing with a wild, Arnie-esque helicopter finish, sending his ball deep down the middle on one of Portrush’s hardest holes. It was an awesome display of athleticism and the fans, despite themselves, roared their approval. Scheffler birdied the hole out of spite to stretch his lead to six strokes. Forty-eight minutes into the final round the 153rd Open felt like it was already over. Then Scheffler birdied the fifth hole, too.

Beneath Scheffler’s aw-shucks demeanor there is a killer within. He was up seven strokes on the 7th hole when he made a sizable putt to save par. “My gawd, it’s a joke,” an anguished Rory fan cried out. Scheffler put a little extra gusto into his fist-pump. He was running up the score, shades of Tiger Woods circa 2000. "He plays every round of golf like it’s his last,” said Harris English, whose second place finish turbocharged his Ryder Cup chances.

More from Alan Shipnuck at The Open: Out at Portrush, Embedded with the Moroney Bros

Scheffler refused to make a mistake on the back nine, snuffing the life out of the tournament. The resulting boredom was glorious—only a truly transcendent talent can make it look so simple on such a fearsome links. (In fairness to Royal Portrush, the low scores were entirely because the wind didn’t blow four days in a row). Scheffler’s commanding performance—the 10th straight time he has converted a 54-hole lead, longest streak since Tiger—should clear up any lingering confusion about his competitive fire. After Scheffler bared his soul in a pre-tournament press conference, the media center turned into a Left Bank cafe, with armchair philosophers opining about ennui, existential dread and the meaning of life. The key takeaway should have been Scheffler saying how badly he wanted to win this Open. His entire soliloquy was about work-life balance and he’s clearly found the perfect formula. In another universe, Scheffler would make pancakes for the kids, drive them to school, set quarterly records selling insurance and then coach the Little League team before BBQ’ing dinner for the family. Golf isn’t his life, just his living. When asked what makes Scheffler so good, Jordan Spieth said on Sunday, "He doesn’t care to be a superstar. He's not [trying to transcend] the game like Tiger did. He's not bringing it to a non-golf audience necessarily. He doesn't want to do the stuff that a lot of us do, corporately, anything like that... I think it's more so the difference in personality from any other superstar that you've seen in the modern era and maybe in any sport. I don't think anybody is like him.”

Scheffler summed it up well at the trophy ceremony, saying, “ What an amazing week. I wish I could have seen more of the town, but it was a bit of a business week.”

The simplicity of Scheffler's approach has allowed his awesome talent to blossom. He is the best iron player in golf—he played Portrush's par-3s in -6, an Open record—one of the best drivers and chippers and now, suddenly, among the most efficient putters. He is a player without a weakness and currently no peer...except among all-time legends. With this Open triumph, Scheffler, 29, is three-quarters of the way to the career Grand Slam. His four major championships ties him with Hall of Famers Ernie Els and Ray Floyd, among others. Since March of last year he has won 12 big-time tournaments, including three majors, two Players and five Signature events, plus a final round 62 to steal the Olympic gold medal. (In Woods’s most dominant 16-month stretch, beginning in January 2000, he won 13 times, including four majors and a Players.) Scheffler is already third in career PGA TOUR earnings (with over $90 million, not counting assorted bloated bonuses) and he’s played only six full seasons. His final round 68 at Portrush pushed him to -17, four strokes ahead of English, thus becoming the first player since J.H. Taylor (born in 1872!) to win his first four major championships by at least three strokes (hat tip Justin Ray).

"I don't think we thought the golfing world would see someone as dominant as Tiger come through so soon, and here's Scottie sort of taking that throne of dominance,” said Xander Schauffele. “You can't even say he's on a run. He's just been killing it for over two years now. He's a tough man to beat, and when you see his name up on the leaderboard, it sucks for us."

Scheffler’s performance was so spectacular that eventually he won over the crowds. (McIlroy left them wanting with a mid-round swoon, ultimately finishing tied for 7th, seven shots back.) As Scheffler played the final hole, the fans rose to their feet and the cheers rang out: “Go on, Scottie!” He had been called a lot of things in the preceding 17th holes, but now only one honorific would do: Champion Golfer of the Year.