I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of a piece than this one, which featured interviews throughout the year, an unforgettable day at Fiddler’s Elbow and a first sentence that hit me while still at the course that I scribbled down on a random piece of paper. Turning a tragedy into a new chance […]
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of a piece than this one, which featured interviews throughout the year, an unforgettable day at Fiddler’s Elbow and a first sentence that hit me while still at the course that I scribbled down on a random piece of paper. Turning a tragedy into a new chance at life for others, the Timothy J. Piazza Memorial Foundation deserves all of the plaudits and money it gets, and I’m grateful that I had a chance to tell the story of Tim and the community that rallied together around a family after the worst possible thing that could happen. I wrote all of this on a rickety kitchen table while on “vacation” in Copake, N.Y., so that the entire outing was fresh in my mind, and I’m really proud of how it came out—especially since it spread the word of the foundation. —Greg Gottfried
There are ways you can get lucky as a writer, and a dramatic ending like we saw at Pinehurst, when Rory McIlroy came so close to breaking the major drought only to succumb to his worst heartbreak yet, can be a gift. At that point, you can only hope that you’ve done enough legwork to be able to take advantage, to have the information on hand that lets you write something equal to the moment. This was one of those Sundays where I kept finding myself in the right place at the right time on the course, all the way until Rory sped out of the parking lot. By the time I was writing, it felt like the hard work had been done, luck had found me, and all I had to do was type the words as fast as possible. —Shane Ryan
There are plenty of ways to gauge the success of a golf story—readership, feedback from readers, pick-up from other outlets. But just like a golf shot, the best measure might be from whoever produced it—sometimes you can feel it the moment it leaves you. This was the exercise we put before our collection of writers and editors: Put modesty aside, and tell us the story you were proudest of in 2024, either because of what it taught the audience or you about the game we all love. The responses ranged from useful to heartbreaking, to small moments well beyond the public view, but they all showcased the many ways we connect with the game.
We tend to think of Augusta National monolithically, as the ever-steady Brigadoon of golf that magically materializes each spring for the Masters. Just mentioning the name conjures a very specific image of a very specific golf course. But part of the story of the Masters is how the architecture changes year to year, sometimes dramatically, yet as an ideal it remains constant. Golfers and top-100 lists have always revered it as one of the greatest American courses, but if it’s always evolving, shouldn’t our perception of it also evolve? This was the idea that led me to want to examine Augusta National in all its different iterations over the 80-plus since it opened. The goal was to try to identify if there was ever a “best” version of the course, when the agronomics, challenge and architecture were all in perfect harmony with the historical moment. I’m proud of the research that went into this story and how we illustrated the course through different eras. And in the end we did identify a time when the course achieved its highest ideal. You’ll have to read it to find out when that was. —Derek Duncan
I think the most significant column I wrote this year introduced readers to the remarkable Jim Yong Kim. His story lies at the intersection of culture, technology and the social and medical challenges of mental health dramatized by the death of Grayson Murray. Jim is no stranger to solving epidemics of worldwide proportions, only this time he’s putting the single most important crises of our time in the context of golf. “They Call Him Driver Off the Deck.” —Jerry Tarde
What started as a couple of paragraphs in a Michael Bamberger book wound up being a couple months of looking into the mostly forgotten story of Bruce Robertson, the former Stanford standout who had to WD on the eve of the 1973 Masters. Robertson had violated the strict amateur rules of the day by selling some golf equipment to people at school, a seemingly harsh penalty, especially given the current NIL era in college sports. To my surprise, no one had ever talked to him about what happened for a story. So as the 2024 Masters approached, I was happy to finally track Bruce down—and thankful to him for sharing his side of things. —Alex Myers
“Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing” is a well-worn quote often mis-attributed to Vince Lombardi (it actually was coined by UCLA coach Red Sanders). During the member-guest at my club, Rock Ridge C.C. in Newtown, Conn., this July, that famed quote rang hollow. As the horse race for the overall title wound down to the final two teams, a gaffe by one participant led to classiest move I’d ever seen on a golf course by another. The article I did on it practically wrote itself but what I’m most proud of is the message it hopefully sent: that winning is indeed not the only thing. Not even close. —E. Michael Johnson
There has been no shortage of initiatives to diversify golf, and articles about those initiatives. Every golf friend of mine agrees this game will be better when it looks more like other sports. But to be critical or skeptical of DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) programs is dangerous ground. In preparing to speak Stephen Curry about his Underrated Tour, I spoke to more than a dozen key figures who have been wrestling with the issue of wider access to golf for decades. Each conversation led to another person. I learned much about the pitfalls of good intentions, the complexity of the system, as well as about an underlying territorial battle in this space. My respect for Stephen Curry only grew during the process, but I think he got a tougher interview when he might’ve been expecting a layup. —Max Adler
There are a lot of times in my current state, more than three decades in at Golf Digest, that I feel hopeless about the game. So much of it seems lost or foundering or confused as to what matters or where it’s true heart should be. When I was asked to cover the Olympics, I wasn’t expecting to find golf’s honest core, especially at an event that seemed to not have captured the enthusiasm of its over-moneyed participants on all sides. I also wasn’t sure I could actually write interesting stories about non-equipment things anymore. To my surprise and perhaps disbelief and/or relief, I found the entire experience at Le Golf National restorative and hopeful. This was golf thankfully rediscovering the exhilaration of elite competition in front of an unexpectedly appreciative and goofily raucous audience. At the same time, though, the serenity of Morfontaine on that Monday was the gentle embrace of an old friend, reminding me of what we were and still are. Faith in the past, hope in the future, all in a couple of weeks in Paris. I needed it, almost as much as the game itself. —Mike Stachura
Are you swinging too hard? Or not swinging hard enough? I’ve always wondered about that, and I could never get a straight answer from pros or coaches when I asked them. The truth is that nobody knew. So this year, determined to get an actual answer, I crunched the numbers. To do it I developed a new statistic called Power Percentage, which simply compares a player’s average ball speed to their maximum ball speed over the course of a season. The closer a player’s average is to their max, the higher a Power Percentage they have. It turns out that players, on average, swing about 96 percent of their maximum capability. That’s information the rest of us can use. The next time you find yourself in a simulator, find your own Power Percentage. Hit one drive as hard as you can (make sure it’s a good one), then hit 10 normal drives like you would on a golf course. How does your average ball speed compare to your max? If it’s above 96 percent, you’re too wild. If it’s below, you’re leaving too much in the tank. —Luke Kerr-Dineen
Oddly enough, I didn’t actually have to “write” anything for this story, other than transcribing the quotes from the players in it. But I certainly did travel to multiple PGA Tour stops to report on it, which always makes you feel like the journalism degree was worth it. The goal here was to show just how much the 19th hole routine has changed over the years, and I think we very much accomplished that goal, particularly in speaking to some veterans like Charley Hoffman and Brian Harman, two guys who used to whack a few back after a hard day’s work who now have to jump in an ice bath, hydrate, work out, etc. just to keep up with the young bucks on tour. —Christopher Powers
Like many in golf, I had reduced Grayson Murray to his public missteps. Only after his untimely death at 30 did I discover the complex man behind the headlines—a revelation that deepened as I spent a month speaking with his family, friends and those whose lives he quietly touched. What emerged was a portrait richer than the caricature sports media (myself included) had drawn. Through intimate conversations, I learned of a human who wrestled with demons yet possessed a generosity of spirit that few glimpsed. His story—with its triumphs and struggles—serves not just as a memorial, but as a beacon for others fighting similar battles in silence. Yet the real lesson lies not in Grayson’s passing, but in our collective tendency to judge from a distance. When we see behavior that appears erratic or concerning, our instinct is to criticize rather than understand. But beneath every public persona lies a private journey, filled with challenges invisible to most of us. For those in their own struggles, or those watching loved ones navigate dark waters, Grayson’s story offers both warning and hope. And for me, Grayson Murray stands as a powerful reminder: before we rush to judgment, remember that everyone’s life contains depths we can’t fathom from the surface. —Joel Beall
I have never been shy about exploiting personal experiences for content, but writing about my wife’s early dalliances with golf presented a special type of risk. That it didn’t result in marriage counseling was one measure of success. But the story worked because it was true. Most of the golf we play is defined by degrees of failure, but the newest golfer in our family had learned to define success in a way that is instructive for the rest of us. —Sam Weinman
