A star is reborn: How Bryson DeChambeau became the People’s Champ and, again, a major winner

PINEHURST, N.C. – Seconds before beginning his final round of the 124^th U.S. Open, Bryson DeChambeau nodded his head as he thumbed through his phone, his earbuds in and his spirits high.

Life was good. The first tee at Pinehurst No. 2 was overflowing with officials and dignitaries and media, all fixated on him. The grandstand and clubhouse balcony were packed, shoulder to shoulder, all there to witness him.

DeChambeau looked around at the buzzy scene. “Whatever happens today,” he smiled at his caddie, Greg Bodine, “it’s still going to be OK.”

The nonchalant attitude took Bodine by surprise. Before linking up with the polarizing superstar in spring 2023, Bodine knew all about DeChambeau’s quirky tendencies and underlying perfectionism. How he’d float his golf balls in Epsom salt to determine which were out of balance. How’d he hired a 3D-motion app operator to collect data from each practice swing. How, just for fun, he’d slap lead tape on his 3-wood to see how it affects the spin, and, at 11:30 p.m., give a dissertation on the Vector green-reading method. But now, 18 holes away from a career-changing victory, there was not even the slightest hint of tension.

Fifteen minutes earlier, as he was swatting drivers on the range and eliciting cheers and chuckles, DeChambeau discovered something was amiss with his most lethal weapon. He took out a level, scrutinized the angles and – ah-ha! – discovered that the 9 ½-inch curbed face on his Krank driver head had been flattened. This had happened before – it’s the cost of his repeated Hulk smashes – but not minutes prior to his final-round tee time at the U.S. Open. But still, even in the midst of the equipment emergency, DeChambeau calmly swapped out the head with a backup. When he didn’t approve of the replacement, he unwrapped a different one, with less loft, straight out of the packaging. Satisfied after just five mighty lashes, he returned the brand-new big stick to his Crushers-logoed bag and strode toward the first tee.

By now, DeChambeau’s thousands of fans had been conditioned not to vacate the area, lest they miss an opportunity for a fist-bump or a signature or a selfie. And sure enough, even with the countdown to game time, he obliged. Making a beeline for the kids autograph zone, he gleefully high-fived anyone and everyone eager to send positive vibes his way – a modern-day, right-handed Phil Mickelson, without all of the vices.

It was the start, DeChambeau would say later, of the greatest day of his life.

* * *

Over the past few years, DeChambeau has been many things. A mad scientist. A human garbage disposal. An innovator. Very Online. Rude, petulant, arrogant. Brilliant, disruptive, entertaining.

A month ago, at the PGA Championship, DeChambeau reminded golf fans of his awe-inspiring talent when he bashed his way to the lowest 72-hole major total by a non-winner while whipping the crowd into a frenzy with his theatrical play. Xander Schauffele may have won the trophy but, clearly, DeChambeau won the week. The People’s Champ was so engaging, so dynamic, so enthralling that, by the end, the mood had almost turned melancholic: In this divided new world, we only get to witness this high-octane act four times a year?

Imagine thinking that three years ago.

By the end of his PGA Tour tenure, DeChambeau had seemingly worn out his welcome, alienating his peers, feuding with Tour leadership and boycotting the media. Many fans had turned on him too, jeering and vilifying him in the midst of a coolness culture war with Brooks Koepka. Forget the reported nine-figure contract with the Saudis; the prospect of decamping for LIV Golf was appealing because of a built-in support system for a player who had long felt like he was on an island. Dinners, practice rounds, locker-room lounging – now, he was contractually bound to veteran teammates Paul Casey, Charles Howell III and Anirban Lahiri, all of whom were financially incentivized to support their captain.

“He thrives when he has that around him,” Bodine said. “I think LIV has been one of the best decisions he’s made. They’re constantly trying to speak life into him and guide him. He trusts them, he respects their opinion, and he knows they have his best interests in mind.”

That still didn’t make his 2022 any easier.

Having ravaged his body during a dramatic transformation that led to a major but also mockery, DeChambeau underwent hand surgery and wondered whether he’d ever be the same dominant force without the manic speed training. His play suffered and his confidence tanked. His father died after battling multiple health issues. And now fans excoriated him and other LIV defectors for splintering the sport because of greed and grievances.

“I was knocked pretty hard down,” DeChambeau said. “I dug myself out of a pretty deep hole. I’m not perfect. I’m human. But those low moments helped establish a new frame of mind of who I am, what’s expected, what I can do, and what I want to do in my life.”

Part of that self-discovery was growing his own personal brand. On YouTube, DeChambeau found a captive audience that had grown tired of the turf wars and simply wanted to be entertained. The 30-year-old was both a natural showman and willing participant, having been reduced to the background during LIV events that struggled to draw a significant TV audience. With a series of head-to-head matches and fun challenges, he garnered a subscriber base of nearly 700,000 followers, plus he enjoyed the instant gratification of seeing folks consuming his content in real time.

“It’s such an awesome platform for me to show who I truly am,” he said.

“Bryson is a good person that has had some tendencies that make people look at him the wrong way,” Bodine said. “That’s why I think it affected him so deeply, because he’s always had a huge backing, but there’s also been a ton of people that hate him and love to make fun of him and love to see him fail.

“People are just starting to find out who he is. It’s one thing if you’re a phony, because people can read through all this stuff. But people are finally starting to see that, Oh, this is actually who Bryson has been all this time.”

* * *

The driver was failing him.

As carefree as DeChambeau seemed on the first tee, he also knew the risky club swap could doom him; those lower-lofted Krank heads tended to miss right, and here he was, sailing tee shots into the native area, again and again and again. DeChambeau led the field in total driving distance (318.9 yards) but hit just five fairways and didn’t manage a birdie on his opening nine, allowing McIlroy, playing in the group ahead, to catch him.

“He’s beat himself before,” Bodine said, “but if he doesn’t get in his own way, if he can just be that mental giant, he has it in him. He has that fortitude and passion and focus to do that.”

Throughout his Tour career, DeChambeau developed a reputation as a demanding and occasionally demeaning boss who logged long hours and could grate on even his closest team members. That unpleasant grind wasn’t going to be of interest to Bodine, who had been out of the caddie game for two years, running an indoor golf club in Seattle, when DeChambeau’s camp came calling.

The timing wasn’t ideal, either. When he answered the phone in May 2023, Bodine was at the hospital with his wife, Kelsey, who had just suffered a miscarriage with the couple’s third child.

“Last summer was really hard,” Bodine said through tears, “but I knew God opened that door for a reason. I’ll be straight honest: I had a lot of hesitation accepting the job. But I knew who Bryson was deep down, and I took it as my goal to help him become that person who he was underneath.”

Their partnership began auspiciously with back-to-back top-10s, but Bodine was scouting the course ahead of the LIV London event last summer when he felt the intense pull of home. DeChambeau encouraged Bodine to fly back and heal with his family.

“There was so much stuff going on, and I was just going 100 miles-an-hour for such a long time, and I just hit a wall,” Bodine said. “He checked on me every few days and didn’t rush me back. I just feel really thankful to have the relationship that I have with him.”

Added DeChambeau: “I guess it was fate. The two lives that were in some despair got brought together to make each other better.”

They joined forces again last July at the LIV event at Greenbrier, where DeChambeau was giddy about trying out a new toy. His confidence has always been derived not from past performance or off-course peace but rather, curiously, his equipment. The Krank driver head is similar to what the world’s long drivers use in competition, and with the curvature of the face, DeChambeau can still produce 195-mph ball speeds but non-center hits don’t start as far off-line. The first week he put it in play was a revelation – he shot 58 in the final round and won.

“I’m like, OK, Bryson’s here again,” he said. “Now how do I turn this into major-championship golf?”

The next step was implementing a set of 3D-printed irons that have a similar effect on off-center hits. Approved by the rules-makers on the eve of this year’s Masters, DeChambeau put them in the bag at Augusta National, without any prior tournament experience, and played in the third-to-last group on Sunday.

“There’s just a level of comfort when you have equipment that fits you,” Bodine said. “Now I think there’s even a little bit of that placebo effect of, Wow, now I finally have what I need, and they built a bag for my game. I think it’s just compounded from not just a physical effect but also mentally – he knows he has the right stuff for him.”

* * *

The tournament was slipping away, and DeChambeau knew it.

Authoring one of the best ball-striking performances of his career, McIlroy was going on a rampage, racking up four birdies in a five-hole span to jump out to a two-shot lead with five holes to play.

Up ahead, the crowd was chanting McIlroy’s name as DeChambeau debated his club choice on the short 13th.

“I knew I had to drive the green,” he said.

DeChambeau grabbed 3-wood and launched a 325-yard rocket that put him 30 feet away for a two-putt birdie.

Game on.

What transpired over the next hour was agonizing for McIlroy and energizing for DeChambeau.

Desperate to end a decade-long major drought, McIlroy’s tee shot on 15 bounded over the back of the green, into the native area, and led to a bogey.

On the next green, he got too frisky with his birdie try, chasing it 2 1/2 feet past the cup. Prior to that attempt, he had been a perfect 496-for-496 on putts inside 3 feet this season, but McIlroy’s par putt carried too much speed and violently rimmed out the left side for another bogey.

And on 18, knowing he likely needed a par to force a playoff, McIlroy drove wildly to the left, pitched to 4 feet and then, on a devilish left-to-right slider, missed on the low side – a third bogey in the last four holes that elicited an audible gasp from the stunned crowd.

DeChambeau learned his position not so much by the electronic leaderboards but by listening to the fans – to the cheers for a birdie, to the groans for a bogey, and to the shouts of encouragement as, improbably, major No. 2 drew nearer.

* * *

He was in no-man’s land.

It was a 55-yard bunker shot, and the stakes were dire: Fail to carry the false front short, or sail it long over the green, and all of a sudden, a double bogey to lose was in play.

That’s when Bodine stepped in.

“I’ve seen way harder shots pulled off from you,” he said. In tournaments. At home. On YouTube.

“You’re right,” DeChambeau said, and he called for his 55-degree wedge.

“Let’s do it.”

With the tournament on the line, DeChambeau produced an iconic shot: His ball splashed onto the downslope in the middle of the green, bounced right, raced up another ridge toward the flag and settled 4 feet away.

“The shot of my life,” DeChambeau said.

“Just a joke,” Bodine said.

DeChambeau hearted his par putt to prevail by one and, keenly aware of the cameras, unleashed a torrent of fist pumps and guttural screams. He wrapped Bodine in a bear hug, plucked his ball out of the cup and raised his arms in triumph. The grandstand rocked and roared. And watching on a TV from the scoring room underneath the clubhouse, McIlroy stood in stunned silence, his hands on his hips, denied yet again.

* * *

At the end of a long, sun-splashed day, USGA officials hastily organized a trophy presentation that would soon devolve into a scene unlike any in tournament history.

“You are the best fans in the world, and I can’t thank you enough! What a group of people!” DeChambeau boomed during his acceptance speech, doffing his LIV cap to the crowd. “Tonight, I want all of you guys to, somehow, touch this trophy. You guys were all a part of the journey this week.”

On the back of the green, Bodine was sharing how DeChambeau’s surprising perspective on the first tee underscored how far he’s come in a short period of time.

“Golf is obviously a gigantic piece of his life, but I think it’s becoming less and less of his identity,” Bodine said. “Before this, his identity was rooted in golf, and that’s where his passion and energy would hurt him. But for him to say that on the first tee, and for him to respond the way he did today, proves that it’s not just talk.”

In the interview area, Matthieu Pavon praised his playing partner and the newly minted champion. “What’s most impressive is not that he hits the ball far – everybody knows that,” the Frenchman said. “I was amazed by the quality of his short game. It’s master class. He’s a hell of a player. He has no weakness, and he’s a truly great champion.”

And back in the clubhouse, a forlorn McIlroy slung a Louis Vuitton duffel bag over his shoulder and trudged through the narrow hallways and out the exit. His destination was clear. Without breaking stride he popped the trunk of his Lexus TX350, placed his bag on top of a few suitcases, hopped into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the champions’ parking lot, leaving behind a cloud of dust and, after blowing off the media, plenty of questions.

By the time McIlroy landed back home in South Florida, DeChambeau was just getting warmed up. The night ahead held so much potential. A chocolate-milk chug out of the trophy. A how-I-did-it video uploaded to his YouTube channel. A segment with Johnson Wagner recreating the famous bunker shot.

But first, DeChambeau had a promise to uphold. His champion’s duties done, he sprinted off the 18^th green and was engulfed by a throng of spectators. Shuffling down the line, he thanked them for the support, paused to let them touch the trophy – his trophy – and listened to the sweetest sound of all.

Everyone, everywhere, cheering only for him.