What the most viral golf tournament of the year revealed to the golf fandom

The last 12 months had a bit of everything – a career Grand Slam, Ryder Cup chaos and much more. With 2026 on the horizon, our writers look at the most memorable moments from 2025 and explain why they mattered.

no. 15 – Impeller motion with zero torque | no. 14 – ‘Happy Gilmore 2’ takes the golf world by storm | no. 13 – Joaquin Niemann’s big 2025 (and crucial 2026) | no. 12 – JJ Spaun kills Oakmont

Stories of 2025, No. 11: Invitation on the Internet

There’s no getting around it: If you want to understand the year in golf, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the controversial alarm clock habits of a failed pro.

The journey from a year filled with opportunity to a dormant controversy that defined golf’s current intersection with the Internet begins with Lu Ko Kitin, former PGA Tour pro and current YouTube golf star.

Kwon is one of many major figures in the history of the year in golf: YouTube. And, no doubt THE YouTube Story of the Year — Internet Invitational — Kwon played an even more important role: HEEL.

When Kwon laid down to rest the night before the start of the Internet Invitational, the Good Good Golf star had no idea he’d spend the better part of his November facing the wrath of the comments section. He had no way of knowing what awaited him in the corners of the Internet near and far AFTER he was DQ’d from the opening session of the Internet Invitational for oversleeping. And, it’s safe to say, if Kwon HAD aware of the backlash he would face when the video was eventually released, he would not have followed his morning nap by generally disparaging his 20-handicap partner, the popular Barstool Sports PFT Commenter personality.

Every good story needs a villain, and apparently, so does every good made-for-the-internet, half-reality-TV-show, half-influencer golf tournament. Failing to make his time for the opening session of the Internet Invitational, Kwon was the spark that ignited the Internet wildfire that became the Internet Invitational.

And without the blockbuster success of the Internet Invitational? Well, I’d argue that we’d all be a bit dumber about the tectonic shifts taking place in the world of golf in 2025. But I’m moving on. Let’s go back.

The idea appeared organically. Barstool Sports founder Dave Portnoy looked around the golf creative sphere (influencerverse? internet?) and recognized a trend: dozens of golf influencers on YouTube had achieved individual success for their talents, but had nowhere to rally. Like the days before the professional golf tournament, online golf was a collection of individuals, and those individuals could be more valuable collectively than the sum of their parts.

Portnoy gathered a sponsor (Dunkin’), a host course (Large Cedar Lodge in Missouri), and a dream guest list (everyone from Bob Does Sports to Good Good). Before long, he had raised enough money to create a compelling proposition: A one-week mega-series bringing together the biggest influencers in sports.

But getting a yes from his guest list required a deft hand. For one thing, the very structure of golf’s influence was built on the idea of ​​self-determination. The whole point of becoming a YouTube superstar was that it didn’t require the help of a well-known media brand like Barstool. For another, $1 million wasn’t chump change—but it also wasn’t exactly life-changing money to offer a group whose businesses regularly raise similar amounts on their own. In 2025, a Portnoy (Good Good) goal equalized a fundraising round 45 times larger as the Portnoy winner’s prize.

Portnoy knew money and followers weren’t enough to get him the YouTube Golf stars he wanted, so he promised something more: attention. By playing in the Internet Invitational, competitors can dominate the golfing spotlight during a dead time on the calendar. They could benefit from the fame of their competitors, and their collective image could be something that felt essential … even if the quality of the golf wasn’t.

What followed over the next six episodes and 16 hours of heavily edited content is nothing less than the guide to modern internet golf – a glimpse into the ways golf on TV has transformed from tournaments and trophies to entertainment and attention. It’s also a glimpse of what happens when you bring four dozen of the biggest and funniest voices in pro golf together under one roof: No one in the sport is able to look away.

In the end, the impressive journey of 48 golf content creators battling it out for one million dollars generated 25.2 million views on YouTube, tens of millions of impressions on social media and gained the undivided attention of the greater golf world for more than a week. The final episode, which included the final on-camera appearance of Cody “Beef” Franke (who died tragically shortly after filming), is so gripping that it can’t bear to break, even six weeks later.

But more than any individual success — and more than any recent episode of heartache or warmth — the Internet Invitational showed us something about the ways golf has changed in 2025. TV deals and tournaments are no longer the only ways to see must-see golf competition. Professional players are no longer the only stars capable of commanding the sport’s attention. And the world of content creation is no longer a side act of the big show. Above all, the Internet Invitational proved that the true strength of golf television is in its ability to thrill us. without produced drama – and reminded us that golf with No. the drama, whatever it is, is not golf at all.

As professional golf enters another season of turmoil, major tournaments would be wise to remember the rules that brought YouTube’s astonishing success to 2025: the new playbook of maximizing audiences, amplifying drama and sincerely believing that more is more.

And, if all of this is too complicated, perhaps the golf pro can learn a simpler lesson — one that Luke Kwon learned the hard way:

It’s good to have heroes, but it’s better to have heels.