Bryson DeChambeau’s PGA career ends with a ‘shocking’ twist.
The birdie putt on the 18th green of Valhalla Golf Club was only 8 feet, but it was the longest 8 feet of DeChambeau’s recent professional career. DeChambeau pushed himself to 20 strokes below par at the PGA Championship, matching leader Xander Schauffele, laying the groundwork for Schauffele to avoid a playoff with a cartoonishly powerful and flamboyant former tour rival who needed to birdie. Due to an error, DeChambeau’s Sunday round seemed all but over as he retreated from the spotlight, allowing Schauffele to smoothly make the final par and secure his first major championship.
DeChambeau and caddie Greg Bodine circled the putter for a long time, deciding to read the putt after a brief discussion. However, just a few seconds after they uttered a line, DeChambeau felt he misspoke.
“I guess I made it too brief again, like—just like you know,” he said. “Like an idiot.”
But Sunday at a major can play tricks on you. Just when you think you know exactly what your ball is going to do, it surprises you. As DeChambeau’s ball slowed down and spun towards the hole, something strange happened.
As the ball slowed down, DeChambeau extended his arms backward, seemingly preparing for disappointment. Then, just when the ball seemed to be losing steam, it found extra rotation and dropped.
The crowd erupted. DeChambeau extended his arms at a rectangular angle to the sky, seemingly holding a celebration amidst the cheers of the crowd. Bodine smiled. The championship was saved. DeChambeau and his caddie were both stunned.
“It was a cup—no, it was four inches outside left,” Bodine later said. “I thought it might be a short circuit on the half-turn, but it wasn’t. It was a perfect putt. Perfect.
Deshambo’s PGA dream only basked in the sunlight for 28 minutes. Shortly after Deshambo’s round ended, Xeophiler confidently strode down the 18th hole, navigating through a tricky bunker approach and an even trickier up-and-down, then side-doored in a birdie putt to clinch the victory. He was the major champion, while Deshambo watched his match bombing drives to keep warm on the big screen by the practice area, a significant loser.
“Damn,” he muttered softly as Xeophiler’s putt dropped into the hole.
Deshambo’s party quickly fizzled out, and he was up the hill even before Xeophiler retrieved his putter from the hole. Deshambo embraced Xeophiler briefly, then rushed past the scoring area straight into the press conference, his disappointment evident from his demeanor.
“For me, disappointing as it is, anyway,” he said dejectedly. “I just never got to my best level all week. Feels like my ‘B’ game was all I had.
But as the shock of defeat gradually subsided, Deschambault’s demeanor changed. On Sunday, he just played a bogey-free, 7-under-par 64 in a major championship, chasing down a leader who had hardly blinked since Thursday’s opening shot, trailing by only one stroke… and his B-grade game.
Oh, he did that while also cementing his status as one of the most beloved players in the championship. That’s not an exaggeration. From the moment Deschambault stepped onto the first tee on Sunday at Valhalla Golf Club, where most of the 50,000 fans seemed to be Kentuckians, they all seemed to want Deschambault to win, screaming his name with every manicured tee shot and overly dramatic follow-through. And throughout his career, Deschambault seemed to have mastered the power of managing their collective attention, sharing smiles and souvenirs and genuine interactions in a way that only further endeared them to him.
These weren’t literal victories, and fans wouldn’t take any steps to fill the void left by a lack of true triumph on the PGA Tour, but for a golfer who has more than once found himself on the wrong side of public sentiment, the support is a sign of growth.
“It’s very important to know what to do, what to say, and how to act when that moment comes,” Deschambault said. “When I was young, I didn’t understand that. Now I do it more for the fans and the people around me, and strive to be an entertainer who occasionally plays good golf.”
DeChambeau’s rise as an artist over the past five years or so is well-documented. He’s been a golfer, part-time YouTuber, competed in long-drive contests, indulged in esoteric (perhaps loosely understood) physics theorems, and consumed trendy diets like practicing golf balls. But in some ways, these things have detracted from what’s truly interesting about Bryson DeChambeau: his golf. Why is Bryson DeChambeau’s golf interesting? Because it’s not an act. He’s no more sure of how things will turn out than we are, nor is he any more certain of how he’ll handle the pressure of big moments.
Artists intentionally craft their bread and butter. As DeChambeau puts it, knowing when to fist pump, when to wave, how to be engaging and endearing. But golfers aren’t afforded the same freedom. Some days you’re an artist; some days you’re an artiste. Others, you’re just the one being entertained.
“Yeah, I’ve surprised myself a few times,” DeChambeau said Sunday. “I don’t feel like I’ve missed any pivotal putt moments. There were obviously a couple of mistakes, but every time I needed to move up and down, I did that, every time I needed to project the ball 6-7 feet high, I did that. So I definitely surprised myself, impressed myself, and I know I can do it again, it just takes a little bit of time.
Before Cheiofile saw Warnermeck, Deshunbo had already left the awards podium of the PGA Championship. However, before Deshunbo slipped into the parking lot, a dozen or so fans were already waiting for him behind the grandstand at Tee 10. Some final autographs.
He longed to disappear, to merge into the endless night that might have existed before. But not yet. It was time for one final surprise.