Long before he wore the green jacket, I remember hearing Rory McIlroy say something startling about memory.
It was early July 2024 at the Scottish Open, just weeks after his crushing loss to Bryson DeChambeau at the US Openand McIlroy was understandably feeling raw. He’d just had his heart ripped out in front of the entire golfing world, and thanks to the odd rhythms of the golf press, he’d be forced to talk about it every day from then until the end of next week’s Open Championship.
Given the obvious tension between what McIlroy clearly didn’t want to talk about and what I was professionally obligated to ask, I expected McIlroy to be defensive or combative. But when the subject of the US Open came up, he was surprisingly open. McIlroy spoke of the disappointment of the loss, the decision to leave Pinehurst without a word, the few days he had spent licking his wounds by disappearing into the ritualized chaos of New York City. And then, almost out of nowhere, he admitted something funny: He never planned to see than the US Open again.
“I’ve seen so much of my first US Open win that I don’t remember the feelings I had,” McIlroy said. “Honestly, my memories of the US Open in Congress are through the TV, so I really try to do a good job of not looking back.”
McIlroy went on to say that he hoped to learn from his heartbreak at Pinehurst by reliving it himself, day after day of pain, until he had gathered enough of the memories to ensure the result wouldn’t happen again. It was an admirable pursuit. But I was struck by the larger sentiment: If the guy who finished Congressional Weekend in 2011 with the trophy could have his memories of golfing glory flattened into the dimensions of a television screen, how could I hope to be any different?
I think that goes a long way to admitting that I never planned to watch the 2025 Masters again. I witnessed it. I lived it. From the busy (and increasingly suffering) turf of Augusta National, I missed it a lot. But I know better than McIlroy knew his approach to 15 what it felt like to watch McIlroy complete the golf story of a generation — and I never want to lose that feeling.
When my editors first approached me with the task of writing about the importance of 2025 in the Greater Tao of Golf, I snorted. Juxtaposed with the tectonic shifts of a rival sovereign-funded golf league, the ongoing melodrama of leadership, ownership and sweet, sweet money among the playing class of golf, and the fact that Tiger Woods hadn’t played a single event, I felt quite comfortable admitting that I not only didn’t like the premise, I didn’t agree with it.
But then I thought about that Sunday afternoon at Augusta and I remembered things in golf really The issue doesn’t happen in a boardroom or a press release, but in memories too precious to forget. This is what my great-great-grandchildren will remember from 2025 – and I will tell them the story straight from my mind’s eye.
Why 2025 Mattered: The Masters
Throughout your life, you collect a lot of crap.
Like, for example, the clichés — dozens or even hundreds of them — that whisper of the magic of a Sunday afternoon at Augusta National with the Masters on the line.
But that doesn’t happen until you actually are therewitnessing a truly magical Sunday afternoon at Augusta National hits you like a semi truck: Every last one of those clichés is absolutely and undeniably true.
When people ask me about OWN memory from the ground at Augusta on Sunday afternoon at the 2025 Masters, the day Rory McIlroy completed his career Grand Slam, that’s usually what I tell them.
If you had spent the rest of your life scripting the story of Rory McIlroy’s triumph, you could not have chosen such a brutal ride or such a mixed ending as the story we saw at Augusta National. The swings — from a four-shot lead at the 10th hole to an inexplicable half-wedge in Rae’s creek at No. 13, and from the wonderful moon of the moon on the 15th for the unthinkable defeat at 18 – were not believable. The ending was not believable. The tournament epitomized everything that is truly wonderful about sports, which is that they are a much better story and much more real than any story made up in the human brain. Sports are, in the most literal sense of the phrase, the ultimate drama.
That McIlroy’s victory not only vanquished his ten-year demons, but did so at the one venue that had tormented him the most? That he was required to defeat his old friend in Justin Rose and nemesis in Bryson DeChambeau? That earned McIlroy an irrevocable place in golf immortality? Well, that was just the gravy that took McIlroy’s win from remarkable to historic.
Unfortunately, the balance of the universe argues that we probably won’t see another major level of the 2025 Masters for some time. But we’ll always have 2025. Always.
Why 2025 Mattered, Reason 2: Winds of Change
It was fitting that McIlroy’s win came just months before the PGA Tour he fought so hard to protect in the LIV era that hired new leadership.
In fact, the hiring of Brian Rolapp at the PGA Tour was one of three significant golf leadership changes we saw in 2025 — joining Scott O’Neil at the helm of LIV and Craig Kessler at the helm of the LPGA (and not including new USGA president Kevin Hammer or new PGA of America chief executive Derek Sprague).
Of course, it’s too early to say exactly how these three men will perform, but it’s not a stretch to suggest that all three face the opportunity to become the most transformative leaders in the history of their respective tournaments.
For Kessler, the question is: the chicken or the egg? The LPGA has grown steadily over the years, but not at the pace or excitement of other major women’s sports. Can Kessler inspire a new generation of stars to capture the attention of fans far outside of golf? And can he boost the Tour’s media presence enough to change the outcome? And which comes first?
For O’Neil, the question is important. Can he lead the league to the major championship? And the benefit of TV rights? And the marketability of the sponsorship? O’Neil has already administered a new mindset for LIV in relation to its competitors: full, non-competitive. The unanswered question? If LIV, as currently constructed, can do either.
And for Rolapp, the question is expansion. Much has been made of his NFL pedigree and his dreams of reorienting the schedule, but his success on the job will be judged based on his ability to grow the PGA Tour pie for everyone. It has the best player in the world under its roof and the deepest group of stars of any tournament on earth. Is this enough to give a great return on investment? If so, Rolapp may be remembered as the man who changed golf for good.
;)
