Hours before Scottie Scheffler began his final-round procession at Royal Portrush, Shane Lowry, the last Open champion at this venue, provided a stark reminder of golf’s volatile nature. After holing an iron shot on the fourth, Lowry threw his hands in the air and was caught on camera telling his caddie, “This game will drive you mad.”
For most players, the sentiment is a familiar one. The emotional highs and lows are an inextricable part of the sport, visible in the expressive reactions of players like Lowry or Rory McIlroy.
Then there is Scottie Scheffler.
On the course, Scheffler’s emotions are so guarded they seem locked away. Fellow competitor Xander Schauffele describes it as a “blackout” mode—a flow state where Scheffler exists in his own world, entirely focused on the next shot. While glimpses of frustration occasionally surface over a misread putt or a misjudged wedge, they rarely derail his performance.
“You won’t see that much emotion as he continues to strike it like this,” said Jordan Spieth. “The only time you’re going to see it is when he’s on the greens if he misses putts because he’s not missing many shots.”
On Sunday, Scheffler’s march to victory was a masterclass in dominance, securing his fourth major championship and the third leg of the career Grand Slam. His final round looked deceptively stress-free. With three birdies in the first four holes, he steadily silenced a crowd that had arrived hoping for a McIlroy miracle. Another birdie on the fifth green extended his lead to seven shots, earning only a smattering of applause. When his approach on the par-3 sixth came up short, the gallery cheered his misfortune.
Scheffler responded by chipping onto the green and draining a 16-foot par putt, punctuated by a fierce, Tiger-like fist pump—his most significant display of emotion all week. “Bloody hell,” one fan muttered. “This is over,” said another. The reality, perhaps settled since Scheffler’s 64 on Friday, was now undeniable.
“The crowd, I think, wanted somebody else to win this week,” Scheffler noted. “And I kind of got to play spoiler a little bit, which was fun as well.”
By the time he reached the 18th green with a four-shot lead, the Northern Irish crowd had no choice but to offer a rousing standing ovation, acknowledging a level of performance that has redefined the pinnacle of the sport.
“I don’t think we thought the golfing world would see someone as dominant as Tiger come through so soon,” Schauffele said. “And here’s Scottie taking that throne of dominance. He’s a tough man to beat, and when you see his name up on the leaderboard, it sucks for us.”
McIlroy echoed the sentiment: “He’s been on a different level all week. He’s been on a different level for the last two years. He is the bar that we’re all trying to get to.”
While Tiger Woods’s dominance was amplified by a physical advantage over his peers, Scheffler’s ascendancy comes in an era of athletic parity, where modern equipment and fitness are universal. His separation comes from two things: unparalleled consistency and a unique mental approach.
Scheffler has repeatedly stated that his ultimate fulfillment comes not from trophies but from his life as a husband and father. “This is amazing to win the Open Championship, but at the end of the day, having success in life… that’s not what fulfills the deepest desires of your heart,” he explained.
After the final putt dropped, he hugged his caddie, Ted Scott, before turning to his family. In that moment, he finally broke character, taking off his cap, raising both arms, and letting out a triumphant yell. As his family waited for the trophy ceremony, his father, Scott, recorded the scene on his phone, reflecting on his son’s journey. “I always told him the joy was in the journey,” he said. “You never know what you’ll find along the way.”
This detachment from the pressures of stardom is what sets him apart. “He doesn’t care to be a superstar,” Spieth observed. “I don’t think anybody is like him.”
Scheffler’s game, however, inevitably draws the spotlight he tries to avoid. “There’s two Chipotles that I eat at at home,” he said. “If I was to go to the one where I grew up, it would be very difficult for me. There’s another one in a different part of town that I’m not going to tell you where it is, but if I go there, nobody recognizes me ever.”
As the R&A’s CEO, Martin Slumbers, announced him as “The champion golfer of the year,” Scheffler’s message remained consistent. “This week I was the best player in the world. I’m sitting here with the trophy. We’re going to start all over in Memphis, back to even par, show goes on.”
The show will indeed go on, but the evidence continues to mount: in an era of unprecedented competition, Scottie Scheffler is breaking the game.
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