NEWTOWN SQUARE, Pa. — This Bryson DeChambeau, he’s just … different. Right? We’ve known that for years now. We’ve celebrated it, we’ve stomped all over it, we’ve come back for more, which gets us all caught up and brings us to late on Friday afternoon, suppertime calling, the round crawling, and Bryson playing from 10 to the house with no chance whatsoever of making the cut. And still, there he was, Bryson in full.
Example: In your life, have you ever seen a golfer, pro or am, pick something out of his ear with an extra-long tee? Well there was Bryson, doing just that, like a Q-tip. It’s unlikely his playing partners, Rickie Fowler and Ludvig Aberg, noted this act of aural care. Golfers are in their own world. We just are.
On the par-4 15th, Bryson made what we 90-shooters call a double sandy. He drove it in the right trap. His second shot found a home in a left greenside trap. His bunker shot was indifferent. He holed a mini-bomb for a 4. Does a two-time U.S. Open winner with a billion (or whatever it is) YouTube followers even know the term? You wonder.
Note to self: Ask Bryson about 15.
It’s amazing how it can go, if you’re Arnold Palmer in his prime, if you’re Tiger Woods in his prime, if you’re Bryson DeChambeau in his prime. You show up at a major venue on Thursday morning and the main thing you’re thinking about is another notch on your belt. Another Grand Slam victory attached to your name forever. Palmer died with seven. Woods nearly died with 15, and it doesn’t seem likely that he’ll win another. DeChambeau has those two U.S. Opens. Will there be other major victories in his life? We don’t know; we can’t know. Nobody knows.
In the meantime, he’s golf’s $500 million (or something like that) free agent. It can’t be easy, being a professional golfer with a unique swing, a reinvented personality and a number that big attached to a notably broad back.
At the Masters, DeChambeau made a triple-bogey 7 on 18 and missed the cut by two. And still he signed autographs on his way to the scorer’s room. At the PGA Championship, here at the never-looked-better Aronimink links, he shot 76-71 for seven over. The cut was four over. In addition to a thousand other things, Bryson DeChambeau is a stock price and his stock is rising and falling all the time.
“I don’t think you guys understand, I really have to get to scoring,” DeChambeau told the kids as he signed and signed and signed on his way to scoring. No, they likely did not understand. But they definitely knew they had secured the most meaningful autograph in golf today. They’ve seen Bryson try to break 50. They’ve seen him hit balls over his house. They’ve seen the things that matter. On Friday, a few of them might have seen a drive on 12 that reached a crosswalk that nobody was expected to reach, 330 up a hill.
The sleeves of his sweater went up, above the elbow. They went down. They went up. They went down. Ludvig ate a sandwich. Ludvig ate a banana. Rickie Fowler ignored a thousand pleas of “RICKIE-RICKIE-RICKIE.” Bryson fived his way, green to tee, green to tee, green to tee.
His last few waggles are all his own, up and down, up and down. They’re north and south, the lat muscles in his upper back, through his shirt and through his sweater, bulging all the while.
THACKBAM!
Nobody in golf hits it that hard. Nobody makes that sound. Bryson DeChambeau is 32 years old. You can do that when you’re 32 and built like a brick house.
He was wearing his team hat. He’s a Crusher. He’s the captain of his LIV team, the Crushers, at least through the end of the 2026 season. Then all bets are off. Brooks Koepka was in the threesome behind DeChambeau. Brooks was a Smasher, but he parted LIV for more familiar pastures.
Yo, Bryson, you looking to play tomorrow?
Philadelphia fans are special. We just are.
Bryson’s two guys were waiting for him beside the 18th green. You ask if you might get Bryson for a half-minute. You have one question in mind:
Yo, Bryson: do you know what a double sandy is?
Probably yes — he grew up playing public golf, the son of a golf pro — but maybe not.
Not gonna happen, one guy says.
Not today, says the other.
Both are shaking their heads no, just in case you don’t know that no means no.
Bryson signs for the kids, he signs his scorecard, he walks by a small gaggle of reporters waiting for crumbs from golf’s $500 million (or whatever) man.
“I appreciate you guys, I appreciate you guys,” Bryson said on his march out, trailed by his fellows. He made the symbol of the praying hands. It was like seeing a real-life emoji.
Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@golf.com.
