Chris Gotterup’s striking emotions — and silence — said it all

Whenever a good golfer becomes a great golfer, eventually taking the leap to go at it professionally, they bring people along with them. Sometimes, a lot of people. 

Mom, dad and Cousin Jimmy, sure. But also people from back home — from school or church or down the street. Some of them never leave home. Others get picked up along the way, at uni or in group chats, pledging their allegiance via text messages. It becomes their journey, too. 

A bunch of older gents hole up in the clubhouse at the Southport Muni whenever Tommy Fleetwood is in contention. They remember Tommy-lad when that wasn’t a coy nickname everyone in the golf industry used. Same goes for Royal Oaks in Dallas, and that kid named Scottie. The Country Club of Columbus, down in Georgia, sends an update to the membership whenever their pride and joy — Russell Henley — has made any waves on Tour. A recent one commended his T2 finish at the Travelers, sure, but was more focused on his willingness to call a penalty on himself. They were proud of him. Henley practiced at CCC this weekend, stopping amateurs in their tracks as he passed by. Portrush feels like their major, too. 

The cool part about this idea is that you know this fanhood exists, even if you can’t see it. You weren’t there at Holywood Golf Club when Rory McIlroy won the Masters, but you knew the clubhouse was on tilt. You don’t know how the group chat reacted to Brooks Koepka’s opening 68 at Oakmont, but you know it was active. 

We know because of moments like Sunday night. You saw it in those tears from Chris Gotterup.

In the immediate moments after his Genesis Scottish Open victory was sealed, Gotterup found himself standing next to Amanda Balionis, CBS’s gifted post-round interviewer. Her first question was standard, but her second was special. She heard a tiny crack in Gotterup’s first answer and asked him about it in the simplest way:

We could hear the emotion in your voice. Why? 

He exhaled. He wiped his brow. Then his eyes. Then another exhale, this one deeper. 

“Gimme a sec,” he said. 

Interview mission accomplished! Not in the sense of getting a subject to cry, but getting them to think. To swerve through the adrenaline coursing through his body to his foundational truths. Why is he so emotional? He had to wonder, if even for just a split second. 

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get it out,” Gotterup started again, “but … everyone at home.” 

He paused again to wipe his eyes and keep breathing. The words are better watched than read. 

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Gotterup said. “I can’t wait to see everyone. And then, I’m playing in the Open next week.” 

It’s all right there in the quote, ain’t it? That thing I’ve been fighting for? It’s second in line behind the people I can’t wait to see. 

There’s plenty of other stuff in those emotions, too. Like his finish to 2024, when he missed more cuts than he made. Or the looming thought of another hand injury, which kicked up late in the season. There’s loneliness in pro golf. You feel it pretty strongly when you’re tied with Rory McIlroy with nine holes to play. 

“I definitely was the villain out there today a little bit,” Gotterup said. “There was a lot of [Rory chants] and not many ‘Chris’es.”

Ask last year’s Scottish Open champ, Bob MacIntyre, about loneliness, othering, or just feeling like you might not have what it takes. He got so serious about feeling alone that he flew his family over to the States, and even got them involved. His mom provided the cooking. His dad did some (legendary) caddying. Gotterup’s college coach — Rutgers’ Rob Shutte — was recruiting in Europe before some last-minute flight changes helped him meet his star alumnus in East Lothian. “He believed in me way before a lot of other people did,” Gotterup said Sunday night. The people behind the players — it might be the pro game’s most fascinating corner.

For Gotterup, those folks mostly hug the eastern seaboard. They’ve spent plenty of summer Sundays on the Jersey Shore. But this week, they were inside, screaming at their TVs. Shoot, it was just after sunrise that they were screaming about the shifted tee times not allowing them to see Gotterup at all. You know this fanhood exists, even if you can’t see it. When their man made bogey from the fairway bunker on 1, they had to be thinking exactly like he was:

“Oh, s–t. Here we go.”

You could say the same thing for whatever celebration comes next, be it on the beach, on the boat, or at Bar Anticipation, a local favorite. But first, he earned another start abroad. Their biggest one yet.