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Are Social Media Feuds the Future of Professional Golf?

Published

4 years ago

May 28, 2021

The phrase “all publicity is good publicity” is not universally true. Let’s say we learned tomorrow that a professional golfer was caught on camera stealing food from an orphanage. There’s no silver lining there, no material benefit to the fact that this player’s name was being mentioned often on digital platforms. It would be comprehensively b-a-d bad. To give a real-world example, if you’re Scott Piercy and you post an offensive meme on Instagram, you lose your sponsors and 14 months later you’re snapping a putter over your knee. Some publicity is bad publicity.

That said, a statement doesn’t have to be true 100 percent of the time in order to be mostly right. Which brings us to Brooks Koepka and Bryson DeChambeau. Humor me while I tell you something you almost certainly already know: Leaked footage from an aborted Golf Channel video showed Koepka expressing clear annoyance at DeChambeau, which quickly spiraled into a Twitter feud that involved Phil Mickelson, Tom Brady and Aaron Rodgers. In a sport where bad relationships and negative storylines are routinely squelched, and where even players who don’t like each other tend to circle the wagons publicly, this was a remarkably overt display of hostility. Clearly, Koepka’s disdain for DeChambeau had reached such a degree that he no longer cares about decorum.

Who fared worst? Opinions run the gamut, but what’s clear is that this generated a whole heap of attention. Koepka’s video had 10 million views on Twitter in a little more than a day before it was taken down. The subsequent drama has lit up social media and driven heaps of content across the golf web, including this piece. It made the home page of ESPN.com, no small feat for a golf story that doesn’t involve a major championship or Tiger Woods. Mickelson’s PGA Championship win at Kiawah is still the biggest story of the week … right? But even though I originally thought this would be one of those Twitter echo chamber stories, the Koepka-DeChambeau feud has obviously broken through to the mainstream and challenged one of the most historic victories in 150 years of major championship golf for media supremacy.

At the risk of sounding ancient, this is very much a sign of the times. And I fully admit to being as fascinated as everyone else, which makes me complicit in whatever is happening here. And it makes me wonder: Are we in for a lot more of this, in golf and beyond?

The mind begins to reel, because while this kind of attention would be classified as “negative”—it stems from antipathy and continues to be fueled after the initial act by digital insults—we also have to reckon with the idea that in terms of exposure and name recognition and the dreaded #brand, this has been an emphatic net positive for both players. You may personally think less of one or both of them, but I can guarantee you their agents are happy. These were already two of the most famous golfers in the world, but today, more people know their names than ever before. And even if you already knew them, you likely care more—your opinions are stronger, your sense of their personalities is more acute and your desire to see them face off in a tournament, against each other or anyone else, is heightened.

In the broadest, crassest sense, this means they can make more money.

Seriously, it’s that simple. It doesn’t take a genius to imagine all the ways this feud can be parlayed into additional opportunities, from commercials to exhibitions to media appearances, and you can bet their respective PR teams—who are geniuses, at least in a limited way—are just waiting to get to work. Drama and hullabaloo like this is also good for the sport, in that it creates interest. And that interest it generates trickles down to other entities, including other players. The PGA Tour usually doesn’t lean into controversy, so it will be interesting to see if there’s any kind of institutional pushback here. It might be wise, however, not to do anything.

I’m not a conspiracy-minded person, and believe me when I tell you I’m not endorsing what I say next, but indulge me in a hypothetical: Imagine these two players wanted to increase their already high profiles by crafting a storyline. If this whole feud had been planned all along, could they have executed it any better? Could they have more thoroughly seized the news cycle, or fed more brilliantly into the churning content machines of media and social media? Professional wrestling learned this lesson decades ago: If you want attention, drum up conflict.

By Shane Ryan on GolfDigest.com

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One of the Greatest Putts in U.S. Open History?

JJ Spaun’s 64-Foot Walk-Off

Published

1 week ago

June 16, 2025

James Fairway

When JJ Spaun stood over a 64-foot birdie putt on the 72nd hole of the 2025 U.S. Open at Oakmont, few could have predicted what would come next. The ball meandered across the slick green, trickling over every contour, picking up speed at the crest, and then—like it had GPS—dropped center cup. Spaun dropped his putter, raised his arms, and the crowd erupted. With that single stroke, he claimed his first major title in one of the most dramatic finishes in U.S. Open history.

But how does Spaun’s putt stack up against other legendary finishes in the tournament’s storied past? Let’s break down some of the most iconic moments and see where this one lands.

1. Payne Stewart – 1999 U.S. Open at Pinehurst

Perhaps the most iconic putt in U.S. Open history came from Payne Stewart, who nailed a 15-footer for par on the 18th to win by one over Phil Mickelson. The pose—fist pump and outstretched leg—has since been immortalized in a statue at Pinehurst. What made it legendary wasn’t just the putt—it was the context: Stewart’s final major before his tragic death just months later.

Verdict: Iconic and emotional. Spaun’s putt was longer, but Stewart’s was more poetic.

2. Tiger Woods – 2008 U.S. Open at Torrey Pines

Woods drained a 12-foot birdie on the 72nd hole to force a playoff with Rocco Mediate—while basically playing on one leg. That tournament went to sudden death after an 18-hole playoff, and Tiger prevailed. This was peak Tiger drama, pain and all.

Verdict: Spaun’s putt was longer, but Tiger’s win was sheer willpower and mystique.

3. Jack Nicklaus – 1972 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach

With a 1-iron shot that hit the flagstick on 17 and a crucial birdie putt on 18, Jack sealed a dominant win. His precision and timing under pressure showed why he’s the GOAT.

Verdict: Not a putt for the win, but a signature finishing statement from Jack. Spaun’s was more electric in terms of pure putter drama.

4. Ben Hogan – 1950 U.S. Open at Merion

Hogan’s 1-iron into the 18th fairway and the par to force a playoff—just 16 months after a near-fatal car crash—remain legendary. He won the playoff and completed one of golf’s great comeback stories.

Verdict: Larger-than-life comeback. Spaun’s putt had more flair, but Hogan’s win was heroic.

5. JJ Spaun – 2025 U.S. Open at Oakmont

Let’s not underestimate what Spaun accomplished. The pressure was immense. He wasn’t the favorite. And on the most treacherous greens in golf, he buried a 64-foot bomb—a putt most players would be happy to lag to within 5 feet—to win the U.S. Open outright.

Verdict: For distance, surprise, and drama, Spaun’s putt may be the most shocking winning stroke in U.S. Open history.

Final Thoughts

JJ Spaun may not have the résumé of a Nicklaus or Woods, but for one Sunday afternoon in June 2025, he created a moment that will live in golf lore forever. Spaun’s putt was longer than Stewart’s, more unexpected than Tiger’s, and more dramatic than any final-hole finish in recent memory.

In terms of pure clutch putting? It might just be the greatest walk-off in U.S. Open history.

Blog

The Zen of the Shank: Finding Inner Peace in Your Worst Shots

Find your inner peace even when you aren’t playing well.

Published

1 week ago

June 16, 2025

Ty Webb

Ah, the shank. That glorious, unpredictable misfire that sends your pristine golf ball screaming sideways, often directly into the unsuspecting shins of your playing partner, or perhaps, with a touch of poetic irony, into the very lake you’ve been trying to avoid all day. Most golfers, bless their earnest little hearts, view the shank as a catastrophic failure, a blight upon their scorecard, a testament to their inherent lack of coordination. They curse, they throw clubs, they contemplate a career in competitive thumb-wrestling. But not I. No, my friends, for I, Ty Webb, have found enlightenment in the humble shank.

You see, the shank is not a mistake; it’s a revelation. It’s the universe’s way of reminding you that control is an illusion, that perfection is a myth, and that sometimes, the most direct path to your goal is, in fact, a wildly indirect one. Think of it as a philosophical detour, a sudden, unexpected journey into the unknown. One moment, you’re aiming for the green, a paragon of precision and intent. The next, your ball is ricocheting off a tree, narrowly missing a squirrel, and landing, by some divine comedic intervention, closer to the hole than your perfectly struck drive ever would have. Is that not a miracle? Is that not a sign that the golf gods, much like life itself, have a wicked sense of humor?

The key, my dear apprentices of the links, is acceptance. Embrace the shank. Welcome it with open arms, like a long-lost, slightly inebriated relative. When that familiar, sickening thwack echoes through the air, do not despair. Instead, take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Feel the gentle breeze on your face. And then, with a knowing smile, open them and observe the chaos you have wrought. Is it not beautiful in its own chaotic way? Is there not a certain freedom in relinquishing control, in allowing the ball to choose its own destiny, however bizarre that destiny may be?

Some say the shank is a sign of poor technique. I say it’s a sign of a vibrant, untamed spirit. A golfer who never shanks is a golfer who has never truly lived, never truly explored the outer limits of their own golfing absurdity. They are content with mediocrity, with predictable trajectories and mundane outcomes. But you, my enlightened few, you understand that the true joy of golf lies not in the score, but in the story. And what a story a good shank can tell.

So, the next time you feel that familiar tremor of a shank brewing, don’t fight it. Let it flow. Let it be. For in the heart of every shank lies a lesson, a laugh, and perhaps, just perhaps, a path to a lower score you never saw coming. After all, as the great philosopher Basho once said, “A flute with no holes, is not a flute. A donut with no hole, is a Danish.” And a golf game without a shank? Well, that’s just not golf, is it?