Golf Digest Podcast

The story of the last 20 years of professional golf is the story of growth's consequences, and is highlighted by the emergence of LIV Golf, the PGA Tour's new rival. We ask the tough question of whether this golf schism was an inevitable consequence of Tiger's rise, and the decision at the highest levels to pursue growth at all costs.

As the game's greatest player finalized a swing change that would take him from merely sensational to transcendent, and began playing a revolutionary new style of golf ball months ahead of most of his competitors (who wouldn't adopt the Titleist Pro-V-1 until October of 2000), golfing audiences bore witness to what can safely be considered the peak of human achievement in the sport.

This three-part podcast series attempts the big task of summarizing how the world of golf, from the professional to the recreational, has evolved over Golf Digest's existence. As it happens, 1950 is a decent starting point when you're telling that particular story.

Since its introduction in 1963, the PGA Tour's Q School has routinely been one of the most dramatic, heart-wrenching golf tournaments on the planet. This is where careers are made, and where just as often they're broken before they have a chance to soar. Where did it come from? How has it changed? Why did it disappear, only to return last year? This week, we investigate the institution of the Q School, and the outsize place it occupies in the minds of professional golfers.

On Aug. 8, Chi Chi Rodriguez passed away at age 88 and left behind him a legacy of a player whose reputation and personality exceeded his relatively modest success. That's how he would have wanted it: Rodriguez was an entertainer at heart, and he always had a joke or an elaborate celebration up his sleeve. But for this child of poverty from Puerto Rico, there's so much that stayed hidden, and it goes deeper than the surface image of a lovable jokester.

Long before Scottie Scheffler took gold in Paris, and more than a century before Justin Rose won in Rio, Olympic golf existed in the very early history of the Olympic games. This is the incredibly strange story of Olympic golf in 1900 and 1904, when chaos and confusion ruled, and only rarely gave way to Olympic glory.

In the second part of our early history series, we hone in on Scotland, and take you from the 1400s all the way to the rise of the first clubs—including the ascendancy of St. Andrews—that transformed the sport entirely and laid the groundwork for what it is today. 

Where did golf come from? The easy answer to that question is "Scotland," but the historical record isn't quite so clear. Going back to the 1300s, surviving documents and drawings suggest the story is more complicated than we thought. This week, we're investigating the earliest origins of the game, and asking where it truly originated.

July marks the 25th anniversary of one of the two most notorious collapses in major championship history when Jean Van de Velde lost a three-shot lead on the final hole at Carnoustie. In the wake of Rory McIlroy's loss at Pinehurst, the Frenchman's late meltdown feels more relevant than ever; not just for the bizarre way it happened, but for his remarkable reaction, both then and in the 25 years since.

Cyril Walker put together the four rounds of his life in 1924 at the U.S. Open in Oakland Hills, defeating Bobby Jones in the final round and etching his name in golf history. So why don't more of us know him? The sad reality of Jones' life is that he fell into a spiral not long after his greatest triumph, and met a sad end in a New Jersey jail cell. This is his story.

This summer marks the 25th anniversary of Payne Stewart's triumph at Pinehurst in the 1999 U.S. Open, and as fate would have it, the National Open is back in at no. 2. In this podcast, we examine the life of Payne Stewart in living color, up to his great victory in North Carolina and his tragic death later that fall.

We've spent a decade wondering when Rory McIlroy will win his next major, but as the PGA Championship heads to Valhalla, we turned our eyes backward, to the last time he pulled it off. On that hot, humid Sunday in Kentucky, Rory asserted his will and claimed his throne atop the sport ... and it was one of those strangest finishes you could ever imagine.

Before the professional of Tiger Woods ever began, a PGA Tour committee met and determined that Sam Snead had accumulated 82 official wins in his PGA Tour career. As fate would have it, this is the exact number Tiger has landed on as his career seems to be winding down. In this podcast, we go deep on Snead's wins, and why that 82 total is—sorry to say it—highly dubious.

When Roberto De Vicenzo signed an incorrect scorecard to lose the 1968 Masters, it represented not just his failure, but the failure of several individuals and institutions, including Augusta National itself. This is the story of what really happened that day on the course, and why De Vicenzo is only partly to blame for the greatest blunder in the history of major championship golf.

What happens when two men who are each forces of nature, in their own way, clash at the most prestigious championship in American golf? When one is rich and handsome and headstrong, but the other is the lord of Augusta National? When Cliff Roberts, the chairman of Augusta, and Frank Stranahan, the playboy son of a millionaire, collided at the Masters in 1948, it was inevitable that something wild would happen. And something did—a controversy that shed a light on two of the strangest American lives in golf history, and gave a glimpse at the paranoia and exclusivity that dominated old Augusta.

The Official World Golf Ranking has never enjoyed the prominence it has today, but it's not the good kind of prominence. With some of the world's best players no longer receiving points since they're with LIV, the OWGR is under fire, and even LIV-neutral observers think it might be dying. But what is the OWGR? How does it work? How did it come about historically? This week on Local Knowledge, we go deep on the system that is reeling, and might need a eulogy before long.  

If you only knew the late Pete Dye as a funny and somewhat crotchety old man, and if you only know a little about his life's work, from Sawgrass to Whistling Straits, you might not have the sense of his hard edge—how he pursued his creative visions with zealous focus, and how we would say what he needed to say and do what he needed to do to see that vision to fulfillment. With his wife Alice, he forged one of the greatest design careers ever, and his sheer genius led the way at every turn.

If there's a Jackie Robinson of golf, the title goes to Charlie Sifford, the first black man to be a full member of the PGA Tour. Every part of his journey was difficult, from the obstacles that kept him from competing with the best players in the world until he was almost 40, to the virulent racial hatred he faced once he got there. But unlike some of his fellow athletic pioneers, Sifford never softened, even in his later years as the world tried to make it right by showering him with awards. As he told one reporter, "If you'd been through what I've been through, you wouldn't be smiling either." This is his story.

It has been almost 12 full years since Anthony Kim last hit a shot on the PGA Tour, and in that time, he managed to almost disappear completely. But the legend around him has grown in his absence, and now, as he's on the precipice of possibly playing once again, we look at the life and career of one of the most intriguing golfers since Tiger Woods. Who was he, where did he come from, and what happened when it was all over? Is the mystery something that can ever be explained, and can our fascination with him survive his return?

The idea that is currently splitting professional golf in half was born around 2010, scribbled in a feverish bout of inspiration on yellow legal pads. The author was Andy Gardiner, a corporate finance lawyer, and ideas weren't his only strong suit. Over the next decade and more, Gardiner used his connections high in the worlds of golf and business to forget a relentless and occasionally brilliant campaign to bring his idea to reality. It was called the Premier Golf League, and depending on who you believe, it may have come to the very precipice of success. In the end, even with big investors like the PIF, the PGA Tour outmaneuvered Gardiner and the PGL, and consolidated its power over the game. When the PIF came back with the full war chest at its disposal, it carried key components of Gardiner's idea, and even some of his top lieutenants, but not Gardiner himself. But when you tell the saga of LIV Golf and its war against the PGA Tour, Gardiner remains one of the most fascinating figures; one who got so close, and whose idea is even still rocking the sport. This is his story.

In May of 1981, in the parking lot of Southern Hills Country Club in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a man named Johnny Martorano killed his 19th victim. His target was the millionaire businessman Roger Wheeler, owner of a company called Telex that employed 5,000 people in Tulsa alone. Wheeler had been successful his whole life, but when he delved into a mob-connected business, he didn't realize in time that the men he became involved with were more dangerous than the average business rival. A network of corrupt FBI agents and the infamous Winter Hill Gang, including their leader Whitey Bulger, got nervous when Wheeler asked too many questions, and set in motion a crime whose effects are still felt today—and it all happened on one of the most renowned golf courses in America.

The saga of John Montague is one that simultaneously feels like pure fantasy but is also purely American. In 1932, Montague appeared in Beverly Hills seemingly out of nowhere, and through his jaw-dropping golf game, became friends with the biggest stars in the world. Word of his exploits spread far and wide, and when Grantland Rice wrote about him in a national column, the mystery deepened. Why, if he was so good, wouldn't he play in any tournaments? As that mystery unraveled, so too did the life of Montague, who was in fact an escaped criminal from New York named LaVerne Moore. The saga of Montague remains one of the most perplexing, fascinating side stories in the history of amateur golf.

The word "cheat" is golf's one-syllable powder keg, and whenever it appears, fireworks follow. That was the case at the first-ever Skins Game, in Arizona in 1983, when Tom Watson pulled Gary Player aside along with a rules official to privately accuse him of breaking the rules at a critical moment in the event. A reporter was close enough to listen in, and when the story ran, two of the sport's foremost figures were embroiled in controversy. This is the story of two strong personalities, impressive and difficult in their own unique ways, butting heads on a controversial day that lives on in both men's legacies.

It's time for the first-ever session of Golf Court! The honorable Shane P. Ryan is presiding as Barrister Luke Kerr-Dineen and Joel Beall, attorney-at-law, argue about whether Luke Donald should get a second try at Ryder Cup captain, and whether the DP World Tour should lose its right to choose Ryder Cup venues. Plus, golf course bathrooms: Do we need them? Golf Court is now in session.

After a long week in Rome, a happy Luke consoles a sleepy Joel and a sad Shane for an instant take episode following Europe's 16.5 to 11.5 victory to win the 2023 Ryder up the early-week proceedings at Marco Simone. The Ryder Cup Radicals break down the European Team's heroics, the Home Team Dominance problem, and all the drama around ‘Hat Gate'.Subscribe to Local Knowledge and the Golf Digest channels wherever you listen to your podcasts!

The time has come, ladies and gentlemen, to put our hearts on our sleeves and shout our final thoughts into the Roman ether. Today, Luke, Joel, and Shane recap the juiciest news from the week in Rome, give the dish on how to live in the eternal city and make our final predictions for the Ryder Cup. The time has almost come, tensions are at a peak, and as the band Europe once said, this is the final countdown.

We've been talking about it so long that we almost can't believe it's happening: The Ryder Cup is imminent. Before we pack our bags and head to Rome, though, there are a couple last orders of business. All 12 Europeans teed it up at their flagship event, the BMW PGA Championship, and two Americans—most notably Justin Thomas—played at the Fortinet Championship on the PGA Tour. Together, the Radicals analyze how those tournaments went, and what it might say about the team and the captain's picks. Then we delve into the realm of pairings, particularly what we might glean from what we saw at Wentworth. One of the great critical questions for Luke Donald revolves around Rory McIlroy; who should he play with? Should it be a star, an up-and-comer like Ludvig Aberg, or someone we're not yet considering? Does pairing two prominent personalities present too tempting a target for the other team, a la Tiger and Phil in '04? And finally, considering the recent home blowouts, does home course edge need to be mitigated in some way? All this and more as the Radicals count you down to Marco Simone.

Jamie Kennedy joins the Sambuca Boys this week to talk all things European Ryder Cup. Jamie talks about his experience working with the DP World Tour and the European Ryder Cup team, what some of the European players are saying following a trip to Rome, and if Europe's Ryder Cup chemistry is as strong as it's been portrayed. The group also touches on the discussion of course set-up following the release of photos and videos of Marco Simone's rough, ending with a talk on the merit of the “underdog mentality” both squads will use in Rome.

The Sambuca Boys discuss the European Ryder Cup team's six captain's picks, highlighted by Ludvig Aberg and Nicolai Hojgaard. Shane Ryan issues a mea culpa on Aberg after the fledgling superstar (Aberg, not Ryan) wins the Omega European Masters to earn a spot on the European team. The boys talk about snubs, which pick could come back to haunt European captain Luke Donald, and how the team sizes up to the Americans. Subscribe to the Ryder Cup Radicals on the Golf Digest Local Knowledge feed.

In a sea of speculation and analysis, we are pleased to report today that something actually happened: Zach Johnson made his captain's picks, and Team USA is now fully formed. Here at Radicals Headquarters, we are not necessarily surprised at the six picks who round out the squad, but we have some thoughts. Incendiary, revolutionary thoughts. Plus, Luke and Shane engage in partisan squabbles as we discuss the value of a rah-rah captain, and Joel tries to survive a Phoenix hotel room with dire curtains. All this, plus a tortured Hoosiers reference—what's not to love?

The Tour Championship is over, Zach Johnson makes his picks Tuesday, and Shane and Luke are on the scene to take their last crack at handicapping the U.S. team. Is it all coming down to Burns vs. Young? Did Keegan and Glover lose their mojo at the last moment? And what of JT? Plus, we Czech in on Europe, and a seemingly convoluted captain's pick situation that might have just become simpler than we think. Get it while it's hotter than Hotlanta.

The boys are back, and their important job of handicapping the Ryder Cup bubble is now more critical than ever as we approach D-Day. The U.S. automatic picks are set, but there's so much drama in the race for captain's picks that only the brightest minds can sort the data, and over in Europe, the situation is even more tenuous as the last four picks remain very much for grabs. On a good week for both Zach Johnson and Luke Donald, and a wild one for their picks, we're here to set you up for the homestretch. Plus, dramatic eulogies for the players who came into the week with a chance to dance, but left with diddily re: Italy.

The job facing Tony Jacklin, the unlikely captain who took the reins of the European team as Ryder Cup captain in 1983, was a massive one: He had to bring an end to decades of American dominance. The situation on the ground was dire, and to put it plainly, he was inheriting a mess. Since the Cup began in 1927, Americans had won 20 times, lost three, and tied once. Even the addition of Team Europe in 1979, designed to level the playing field, hadn't stopped the U.S. from delivering two straight humiliations. Facing a talent gap, and playing on American soil, he had to stop history in its tracks. The remarkable transformation Jacklin engineered starting that year in Florida was as much psychological as it was tactical, and he had at his side the ideal playing lieutenant in Seve Ballesteros, a man who would become a Ryder Cup colossus. Together, they led the Europeans on a mission to win for the first time ever on American soil, and to redefine the entire event. What they accomplished over those three days was the start of one of the great turnaround stories in the history of sport.

If you wanted a worse title pun than last week, in the words of Memphis Music Hall of Famer Roy Orbison, "baby, you got it." The PGA Tour playoffs are officially underway, and Digest's three foremost Ryder Cup obsessives are back to talk about what went down in Bluff City. Is Lucas Glover bludgeoning his way onto the team one win at a time? Has JT's stock gone down as he watches from the sidelines? Did the Euros have as bad a week as it looked from the outside, and is there any clarity on the bubble for either team? We're dishing out the barbecue-grade takes today as the Cup train rolls on.

We're on the verge of the playoffs, but even with the DP World Tour in a two-week break, we had some red-hot action at the Wyndham, where the Tour regular-season finale saw at least seven hopefuls from both teams teeing it up. We're here to talk JT's surge, Bryson's 58, and where they (and everyone else) sit as the bubble watch heats up. Plus, let's gild the lily: Each of the lads chimes in on what they'd change about the Ryder Cup if they had absolute power. (And they should!)

On paper, it might look like nothing special—another European win on home soil in the Ryder Cup. But drill down, and you'll see something revelatory in Gleneagles. This was the Ryder Cup that took decades of American strategic weakness and decades of European guile and blew them out to epic proportions. It's no coincidence that the end of this Ryder Cup saw Phil Mickelson publicly challenge Tom Watson; this was the week that forced the U.S. to face all its own shortcomings, and that process wasn't pretty. Dive deep with us in this examination of everything Paul McGinley did right, and how the web he wove ensnared the Americans ... but perhaps woke them up, too.Thanks to Ivan Ross for producing the introduction.

The Sambuca Boys are back after conducting some on-site field reporting at Royal Liverpool. Harman's in, the Euros are rising (Shane's risk of becoming Luke-Pilled is currently "very serious"), and we're here to see where each team stands after the last major of the year. As July changes to August, Ryder Cup momentum becomes real, and the lads are here to guide you through the start of the endgame.

Less than a year after the death of his best friend Young Tom Morris, Davie Strath came to St Andrews hoping to win his first-ever Open Championship. He'd come close before, but while Strath was considered one of the three best golfers of his generation, and had been a sort of pioneer in giving up everything for a career in the very new field of professional golf, there was also something dogging his reputation: A tendency to choke in the big moment. That tendency would rise again, but that's far from the only thing marking the 1876 Open as the single strangest major championship ever contended. Played over one day in late September, it's a forgotten oddity in the tournament's storied history, and remains as vibrantly bizarre today as it must have seemed to those who watched it play out almost 150 years ago. In this week's Local Knowledge, we examine the singular career of Strath, the tragedy of his life's end, and that wild day when he had his best, and last, chance to etch his name in the history books.

The fate that has befallen Young Tom Morris, the greatest golfing talent of the 20th century, is to be known, but only in outline. His singular talent is measured today by lines on a Wikipedia entry, or the ancient scrawling of a name on the claret jug, and if anything, his star has dimmed with the passing years. But when he died on Christmas Day in 1875, just 24 years old, he left the world of golf utterly transformed by a career that ranks with the most spectacular of all time. Young Tom Morris didn't just win with absurd regularity; he transformed his sport, ushering in the era of the celebrated professional, and paved the way for the economic structure of the modern game. To study him in-depth, 150 years later, is to bring color to the massive talent and heartbreaking end of the sport's first superstar.

On the first-ever Ryder Cup Radicals, Shane, Joel, and Luke jump into the deep end with a discussion of the LIV Golf imbalance—the US can have LIVers in the Ryder Cup, Europe cannot—and whether Zach Johnson has an obligation to level the playing field by leaving them out. Then it's on to discussions of the new closed circuit US Captaincy Conglomerate, LLC, Europe's key revival of the Hero Cup, and important Italian-centric concepts like Sambuca, Burratta, and the beauty of the word "Madon!" Brief attempts are also made to solve the mystery of the identity of Yannik Paul; no conclusions are drawn.

The concepts of honor and integrity in golf are inseparable from the inevitability of cheating. The former are prominent because the latter is so easy—when self-policing is the best hope for fair play, you better have a code of honor to work as a secondary enforcement. In 1955, at Deepdale Country Club on Long Island, that code seemed to fail when two unknown sandbaggers won a tournament and took home thousands of dollars thanks to an associated Calcutta auction. In fact, the code had not failed: A crisis of conscience led to a confession, the scandal became national news, and the USGA took action. For the two men at the heart of it, the fallout was swift and severe, and lasted a lifetime. On this episode, we look at golf's most notorious amateur scandal and the aftershocks that transformed the amateur game. 

When Johnny Miller shot his famous 63 in the final round at Oakmont in 1973, it instantly became one of the most staggering achievements in the history of major championship golf. For the USGA, it was also something else: an insult. Oakmont was supposed to be one of the toughest courses in the world, and the U.S. Open was supposed to be the toughest test in professional golf. What Miller did undermined that identity, and when the Open came to Winged Foot one year later, the one certainty was that it wouldn't happen again. From the tournament committee to the club members, the mission was to return the U.S. Open to its place of prominence by all means necessary. The course the players encountered that summer was a monster, and they were its victims. What happened next can only be described as carnage; this week on Local Knowledge, we look at why it happened, and what it tells us about America's national open and the people who run it.

This May marks the 20th anniversary of Annika Sorenstam playing the Bank of America Colonial at Colonial Country Club, where she became the first woman in more than 50 years to play with the men on the PGA Tour. That week was highly anticipated, stressful, and loaded with controversy as more than 300 reporters, hundreds of photographers, and thousands of fans flocked to Texas to see her play. The reactions to her inclusion ranged from supportive to hostile, and though she handled herself admirably both on and off the course, it's no surprise that she never did it again. In a way, Sorenstam was playing for the entire LPGA Tour and women's golf in general that week. She wasn't the first. Two women before her, and three after, also took their turn playing with the men, and the story of those women is one of courage, triumph, failure, and a no small amount of sexism. This is the story of the six women in history who teed it up with the men on the PGA Tour.

A key component of Jon Rahm's identity, and one that's not often discussed in English-speaking media, is his Basque heritage. The Basque people represent the oldest surviving ethnic group in all of Europe; they pre-date the Indo-Europeans who swept through the rest of the continent, and whose descendants live there today. Euskal Herria, the Basque homeland, is a region the size of New Hampshire in southern France and northern Spain, and the people have their own language and culture that have survived repeated attempts to snuff it out, right up to the present day. But for such a tight-knit and insular community, they've had an outsized impact on world history. As Rahm himself has said, there's a difference between the Basques and the Spanish, and while he represents both on the global stage, it's his Basque background that defines his cultural heritage and his strength as an elite competitor. To understand Rahm, you have to understand the Basques.

In 1990, the PGA Championship was set to be played at Shoal Creek Golf and Country Club near Birmingham, Alabama. The course had hosted the tournament six years earlier, but this time, thanks to an incendiary comment from the club's founder, the golf world couldn't ignore an inconvenient fact: Shoal Creek wouldn't admit any black members. Nor could the PGA paint it as an isolated problem, or even a southern problem—all across America, private golf clubs were excluding minorities, and many of those clubs hosted major events. That summer in Alabama, the PGA of America and Shoal Creek engaged in a tense standoff, and the outcome would reverberate across golf and change the landscape of the professional and amateur game. The racial problem that had long remained in the shadows, even as the 21st century approached, was now out in the open, and nothing would ever be the same again.  

There was never a moment when Seve Ballesteros wasn't scrambling, when he wasn't recovering, when he wasn't looking for the outrageous miracle. That's how he lived, and that was always going to be how he played golf. We look at the mysteries of the Spanish golf legend, and his entire unbelievable story.

It's one of the most infamous moments in golf: Greg Norman taking a six-shot lead into the final round at Augusta National, only to live out every golfer's nightmare as he shot 78 and lost to Nick Faldo. Today, 27 years later, as Norman has emerged as the face of LIV Golf's threat to the game's world order, that memory feels as fresh as ever. On this episode of Local Knowledge, we dive deep to explore why it happened, what might have prevented it, and what we can learn from Norman's fate on that timeless Augusta Sunday

On an October day in 1983, Charlie Harris drove his blue Dodge pickup through gate three at Augusta National. His goal? To talk to Ronald Reagan, who at that moment was playing the 16th hole on his first-ever trip to the storied course. What happened over the next two hours is one of the strangest chapters in Augusta history ... and despite the high stakes, it disappeared almost immediately from the news. This is the story of a desperate man, a hostage crisis, and a president trying to defuse a dangerous situation just two years after an assassin had almost killed him in Washington D.C.

In 1983, under the leadership of Deane Beman, the PGA Tour faced the first great challenge to its existence. The leading players of the time, from Jack Nicklaus to Arnold Palmer to Tom Watson, weren't happy with the direction of the Tour, and felt that the new marketing arm was adding money to its own coffers while depleting theirs. Rebellion was in the air, and when they came after the man they called the "czar," Beman would not go lightly. He mobilized his nascent power structure to save his own job and the Tour itself, and the fight was waged through the spring and summer of '83. At stake was the direction of American professional golf itself, and the echoes of that conflict resonate even today.

After recapping and analyzing every episode of the new Netflix golf series, Full Swing, it was time to bring our questions to the man who put it all together. In this bonus episode, Chad Mumm, the show's executive producer, discusses who he envisioned as a target audience, how he locked in on different subjects, and why the show opted against a traditional chronological format. Mumm also reveals his favorite moments, and at least one gem of a scene that ended up on the cutting room floor.

The final episode of Netflix's new golf series, Full Swing, and of our limited-run podcast recapping the show, is all about the star power of Rory McIlroy. As hosts Shane Ryan, Sam Weinman, and Alex Myers discuss, the producers were right to focus the entire last episode on the four-time major champion given the prominent role he played in golf in 2022, as well as his willingness to share parts of himself audiences had never seen before.  We discuss some of the bright spots of an eventful final episode, as well as where we felt this show missed the mark. We also took time to assess the series as a whole, and even brought in our special guest novice golf fan to help us determine whether the show worked for audiences who maybe didn't have the same foundation of knowledge.Check out Shane's recap of the episode here.