Golf Couldn’t Ask for a Better Face of the Sport

Scottie Scheffler may be the best player in the world, but that isn’t how he defines himself. He’s a father, a husband, a friend, a man of faith before anything else.

He just so happens to be a stone-cold killer inside the ropes.

I couldn’t think of a better man to be the face of our sport than the now three-time major champion, a perfect blend of life first, golf second and a competitor with the spirit of a Roman gladiator. Some things are bigger than this stupid game we love so much, a fact Scheffler doesn’t need help understanding, but when the Colosseum is packed and every eyeball is dry from anticipation, Scheffler doesn’t mind cutting off a head or two.

The few minutes following his winning putt captured his nature so perfectly.

He picked his ball out of the hole and embraced his caddie and good friend, Ted Scott. After soaking in the praise from the spectators in Charlotte, he slammed his hat onto the green, letting out a fiery, “Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” before a quick, violent high-five and chest bump with his looper.

Then the competitive mask was ripped away and he embraced his family. He held Bennett in his arms and shared an emotional embrace with Meredith, taking a moment to enjoy this achievement with the people that matter most to him.

And from that point on his son was never out of reach. The champion’s walk, the scoring table, the trophy presentation. Scottie took his son wherever he went late Sunday afternoon because at the end of the day, this game is just a game. But sharing those moments with his boy, those are the memories that stay in focus as the years fade away.

Golf is lucky to have a man like that on top of the sport. A man who loves this game. A man who loves his family. A man who treats every face he sees as a friend. A man with no entitlement. And on the golf course, a man with no equal.

It only became more clear over the weekend how big the gap is between Scottie and the rest of the world. His control, golf IQ, patience, ability to execute. Every small detail that separates the winner from the other steps on the podium he’s mastered, perfected.

Over the years, we’ve seen players reach the game’s peak. We’ve seen dominating runs that included multiple major championships in a 12-, 18-month span. But as quickly as they reached the top, they were gone. A flash in the pan.

But Scottie, he’s different. You can tell when you watch him play. His superpower is a bludgeoning of consistency. Every shot is pin-high. Every putt is from the correct side of the hole. Every pitch, every chip is played the right way. And when he isn't firing on all cylinders, he holds it together just long enough until something clicks and the engine turns over.

It must be infuriating to go against.

He’s made his place at the top of the world pretty damn cozy. He’s got a La-Z-Boy, a mini fridge, a heated blanket, a foot massager. He’s replaced a revolving door of names with one that simply reads, “Scottie’s Room.”

The Texan is here to stay, and golf couldn’t be luckier.