AUGUSTA, Ga. — I’m not saying this is professional, because it’s not. And I’m not saying this odd act reveals my rooting interest, because it doesn’t. But as Bryson DeChambeau made his uphill way from the ninth green to the tenth tee, I stuck my hand out for some skin from the reigning U.S. Open champion, just like everybody else who lined the parade route that leads the players to Augusta National’s back nine and the celebrated start of the tournament.
Two hours earlier, DeChambeau was on the driving range. He was the only player on it. It was 2:21 p.m. and he was bombing drivers with his caddie behind him and his swing coach beside him, a cellphone on a stand pointed at this beef-made man.
It was an unnerving experience, watching him. His tee time was in the day’s final twosome. He was paired with the only guy ahead of him, Rory McIlroy, who slept on a two-stroke, 54-hole lead. That tee time was set to start in nine — now eight! — minutes. DeChambeau was about 300 yards away from the first tee, a journey he would make on foot, through a crowd. There was an odd, U-shaped gold horseshoe above the heel of his golf shoes. He hit a final drive, followed by a final 3-wood.
Whew. As Elvis left music halls, Bryson was leaving this range. It appeared he would make it to the tee on time. What a relief.
And then he stopped and signed autographs. A dozen or more. He high-fived, low-fived, bumped fists with fans young and otherwise.
NO!
There was a manic energy coming off the man. That has been the case for years now. Remember the Saturday-night driving-range session at Winged Foot, on the eve of his 2020 U.S. Open win? Like that. But there’s no clock on an evening range session. Here the clock was ticking loudly.
The last kid DeChambeau encountered as he left the range was an eighth grader from Mobile, Ala., named Peter Muller. They low-fived.
“What does that tell you about Bryson?” I asked young Peter, that he was taking in the fans before this date with destiny.
“It tells me Bryson’s going to win today,” the kid said with an unexpected, almost world-weary tone.
Before long, the boy sounded more prescient than Johnny Miller in his broadcasting prime. DeChambeau took a one-shot lead in the tournament after a par-birdie start, while McIlroy opened with a double bogey followed by a par. DeChambeau was 11 under par. If he could have played from there to the house in even par, he would have been in the Justin Rose-Rory McIlroy playoff. That, of course, did not happen.
When the two European Ryder Cuppers were going off to play in their two-man playoff, DeChambeau was talking to reporters about his Sunday 75. His annoyance with McIlroy was (if you can trust my reading of his tone) obvious. Asked about McIlroy’s mood in the scorer’s room at the end of their Sunday round, DeChambeau said: “No idea. He didn’t talk to me once all day.”
