Scottie Scheffler entered Valhalla this Sunday shortly after ten in the morning, two hours before his tee time to play the fourth round of the PGA Championship. He returned to the Louisville course after signing his first over par card in almost nine months and ready to put an end to the longest, hardest and most convoluted week of his entire career.
The big question was how he would do it. The first option was to find the champion, the winning golfer, with race and pride, trying to leave the pavilion high once his chances of victory were exhausted by a bad Saturday. The other option, much more human, even more logical, was to see a player eager to go home to reunite with his wife and newborn, overwhelmed by events, burdened by what lies ahead, mulling over the chat he had yesterday for half an hour with his lawyer as soon as he finished his round. Who knows if what he told him is that the ESPN production team that witnessed his entire incident with the police officer Bryan Gillis state that the Number One’s behaviour was impeccable and that it was practically the officer himself who visibly nervous threw himself on Scheffler’s car. Who knows.
Well, Scheffler opted for the first option, that of the relentless winner, that of the fierce competitor. He signed a round of 65 strokes and pushed to get into the top 10. And yet he didn’t have it easy at the start. Reunited with Ted Scott, his caddie who took Saturday off for personal matters to see his daughter’s graduation, he started with two missed two-meter putts. He missed a par on hole 1 after a more than notable bunker shot and another birdie on the 2 after a huge shot from the rough. Scheffler was muttering his anger as he left the green of the 2. They are calm angers of the Texas golfer, but angers after all. He only loosened his jaw after a sharp comment from Scott.
The round starts uphill, even more risk of letting go and quietly enjoying the extraordinary bath of masses that is given at every step. People are with Scheffler. They cheer him on at every tee, they stand up when he arrives at the green and they never stop making comments during his long walks on the fairway while everyone records him with their mobile phones. “Let’s go, Scottie”, is the most heard. The hit of the week: “free Scottie”, thunders every five minutes. He barely responds, always looking down and almost always alone, ahead, without even the company of his caddie. It’s as if he wanted to have time for himself. Just occasionally, in the steps between green and tee, when he is closer to the public, he raises his gaze a little, sketches a very minimal smile, very minimal, and slightly moves his head up, almost imperceptibly, as a thank you for the support he receives.
On hole 3 he saves a good par, but on the 4 he misses another clear birdie option again. His iron exhibition is legendary. One more. Scheffler is serious, thoughtful, even somewhat sad. At least, that’s what he gives off. He gives the impression of not explaining too much why such a thing had to happen to him. It is true that Scheffler has never been a very expressive player, but we were very close to him also in the individual of the Ryder Cup of Italy against Jon Rahm and his countenance was very different: also serious, but fierce, focused, full of determination. Today he seemed to be in another place…
Only it seemed. He makes birdie on the 5 and exchanges the first smiles, shy ones though, with Mark Hubbard, his playing partner. He gets to par on the day, but the reality is that for the same price he could be four less, if we count the putts from holes 1, 2 and 4. It’s the ease of the genius. They are those irons that seem shot with a laser, always at the height of the flag, always on the good side, always with a more than reasonable birdie option. Or almost always. Certainly, much more than average.
On the 7 he misses another good birdie option and hits the shot of the day on the 8. He is a foot and a half from the hole in one. Valhalla roars. The “let’s go, Scottie” intensify. As he leaves that green he is more interactive than ever with the fans. He doesn’t look at the face, always with his face to the ground, but on the bridge that separates that green from the 8 with the tee of the 9, he bumps fists with several fans, especially the smallest ones. One of the kids is thrilled and shouts: “I touched his fingers, I touched his fingers”.
Now yes, it seems that Scheffler begins to relax, he cheers up, the good shots and the birdies light him up. His face changes. That kind of melancholic expression, gives way to a more relaxed, more positive one. That’s what being a born competitor is all about. They feed on birdies. Just after hitting the 10th tee, the war cry of the last 48 hours in Valhalla is heard again: “free Scottie”. Good lungs of the boy. Hubbard makes a comment and now Scottie laughs out loud.
It gives the impression that he has finally managed to put aside what happened this week and he goes into golf mode. The birdies come. 31 strokes for the second nine. Now yes, relaxed, the putts go in, he even has fun, discreetly of course, but he has fun.
He finishes with a card of 65 strokes, the best of the week and it is impossible not to ask the big question: what would have happened if Scottie Scheffler and Bryan Gillis had not met on that fateful Friday morning on Shelbyville Road at the entrance to Valhalla? We will never know, but it seems undeniable that we would have had him fighting for victory. Don’t you think?
