Rory Mcilroy, Charley Hull see golfin losing something. Alsosh also their gifts

Charley Hull is one of the best players on the planet. It can hit shots most people can only dream of pulling out.

And yet, you will not find the Englishmen adjacent to television watching the game that she has spent her life trying to refine. Do not mistake what hull should not care about this sport. She is still fascinated by the game in her target form. This form rarely exists nowadays, however.

“I think golf back 20, 30 years ago, say 19 – to the 2000s, it was more of an art,” Hull said Wednesday at Royal Porthcawl before 2025 AIG Women’s Open. “The players, even then men, would have to hit the draws and fade and fill it, where I think now has become more of an electricity game and where it is done – the technology has progressed so much can hit it straight and far, and it is some kind of art.

“Whenever I look at Golf, I look at Golf and all that part, like those who won the British Open in the 1970s and it. I see it more interesting then. Like I wouldn’t really see Golf now.”

Loss of golf art is a worrying sign. As technology improves and concentration shifted from creativity to refine automatic efficiency, golf is becoming more cut and more predictable. Since its inception, Golf has been to reward the Creator, the player who can see shots others cannot – whose minds can create more fighting things to understand. Was meant to be A game for dreamersnot robots. Something essential about the existence of the game, a focal point in creating it, is fading away from the Pro game.

A few weeks ago at Scottish Open Gensis, Rory Mcilroy was donated a dating wood In honor of the victory of his masters. He bubbleed a kick and then shouted, “could have played in every era.” The next day, my colleague Sean Zak asked if his game would have been translated again in the 1970s and 1980s, when Hull observed and the artist reigned, and Mcilroy took the opportunity to riff in the state of the game.

“I would like to think of myself more as an artist than an scientist when it comes to the game,” Mcilroy said. “But I think in this generation at this point with Trackman and Biomechanics and all technological advances, I think – again, I think my perception of myself as an artist. But I think with the way the game has gone through the last 20 years, we are probably more scientists than we are artists.”

Mcilroy is an artist even while the technological advances in the game make it on the other side. Watch it to navigate a course of connections, play a bunker or its 7-Herkuri arch around trees at No. 15 in Augusta National on the Sunday of the Triumph of his Masters. Previously that of Sunday, Mcilroy found himself left by the right path to no. 7, seemingly blocked by trees. Caddy Harry Diamond tried to get Mcilroy return back to the street, but Mcilroy insisted he saw an opening in the tree – a small window only the artist can open. He opened it, raising a 9-Hakuri through a slide of a trench, grasping a branch and almost descending it into the hole.

“I love following the attempt to understand something,” Scheffler said. “This is what I want for this game. I feel like you are always fighting yourself, and you are always trying to understand things. And you will never perfect it. I can be a kind of crazy person ever when it comes to putting my mind for something.

“In Golf, there is always something you can understand. There is always something you can do better.”

Like a schedule trying to make gears return or an architect who wants to leave his signature in heaven, they like Scheffler and Mcilroy, and Corda, Hull and others, find freedom in artistic. The two base them on the course and allows them to lose themselves in pursuing them for “that something” that little can see and even less can decipher.

In the era of ball speed fanatics and cube golf stars, the real golf still stands in the heart of those who play it best and raise it in the form of art that was always thought out.