Why he won’t win
And why that might be a good thing
Caddie Corner is a weekly newsletter where we talk mainly about golf. I’m grateful for all the golf sickos that read this every week and text me videos of Frankie Fleetwood (see at bottom).
Probably somewhere over Kansas. At least that’s how it looks from above. Something about the grid-like farms that scream Welcome to Kansas country. Leaning from the middle seat to see the sunset out the window. Rockies ahead. Ain’t that the truth.
Five hours to think. Masters Eve. Tried not to peak too early this year. Hard not to peak when cruising at 10,000 feet. Just hoping my new wedge doesn’t bend in the cabin below.
Same storyline. Tradition unlike any other. Some things don’t change. Even if we desperately want them to. Can he win? And why can’t he?
Never played this well coming into the Masters. Presser calm and collected. Two wins already. Feeling if not now, when? More like if not now, never.
Seventeen attempts now. Course built for him. You hear it’s gonna be soft this year? Too good to never win. Best of his generation. Three PGA Championships isn’t that cool. Sorry, bro.
Langer’s last laugh. “To have that competitive drive for that long, I’m not sure I can do that.” No, you can’t do that. Not sure we want you to anyways.
River below now. Winding. Following our route like the moon chasing the backseat car window. No clouds. Don’t feel too high up. Should be enough to clear the Rockies. No, I don’t want anything to drink. Scared to ask to go to the bathroom in the middle seat. Cute girl in the aisle seat next to me. Screen dimmed. Hope it’s enough.
Fifteen years of elite golf. Eleven year drought. Should have six by now. Still not over St. Andrew’s. One of the older guys these days. And what does that make me? Plenty of gas in the tank. Question been nagging me all week.
“Is his career better if he never wins a Masters?”
I think so. What happens when a golfer gets everything he wants? I guess you could say they get invited back to this tournament every year. Even if they’d rather be on a boat in Jupiter. And what’s a man to want when he’s got everything? At one point no one could beat DJ coming down the stretch on Sunday. Not even him. Now Dean Burmester gets better odds at LIV Miami than DJ.
Young mans game now. Still better than those kids. Will Zalatoris? I’ll pass. Yet he’ll probably win one before him. And here’s the rub. Some people need something to chase. Some people need a reason to lock themselves in a simulator for two weeks just to get ready for these four days. Pebble and the Players just bonuses. Already forgot about them. Thinking about this week standing on those podiums. Would trade a million trophies for a jacket. Preferably not the red at Harbortown. Something to grind for. A man with almost everything is a hungry traveler who smells the smoke coming out of the distant chimney. And who will get there first? The starved man or the one who’s had enough to eat?
Exceptions, of course. I suppose we all have everything we could need if you think hard enough. Some desire more. One more major. All four majors. All four majors at once. The most majors ever. To each their own.
But for him, it’s just this one last prize. His boulder up the hill. Camus tells us one must imagine Sisyphus happy. One must imagine the LACCs and Pinehursts to be more fuel to the flame. Well past kindling now. House on absolute fire. Just where he wants it. Tell me I can’t do something and watch me work twice as hard as anyone with half my natural abilities. I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll show them all. Twenty-seven tour wins now? Lost count. Actually never counted to start. All collateral damage on a storm that’s been gathering pressure since 2011. A storm that’s never going to crash. Can’t crash. Can’t spill the juice. Head down and see where the dust settles in twenty years.
In San Francisco now. Bedroom cold. Slept with the windows open. Round one already started. First time missing the honorary starters. And how was Gary’s leg kick? Did Jack try one? I heard Gary was doing pushups with Barbara sitting on his back.
Hoping my game traveled. Could use some good golf. Though right now I’m content to lay in bed looking out the window at palm trees and colored houses on a hill drinking coffee.
Official Masters Picks
Head: Scottie
Heart: Rory
Gut: Rahm
Left Pinky Toe: Phil
Winning Score: -14
Sleeper:
Going for the world record of metaphors here?
It’s now or never…until he’s still a top three golfer in the world next year.
If he gets this one, I think the next chase is to beat Brooks in the majors count. Crazy Rory doesn’t have the most of his generation (yes brooks was nuts and unbeatable but Rory’s been doing this 11 YEARS WITHOUT ONE and has been a top 5 player!).
Also think if he gets this, the doors may just be blown open and he can get 2 or three more. Let me put on the clown makeup and talk to you on Sunday