DUBLIN, Ohio – Bryson DeChambeau stood over his golf ball in the rough next to the 12th green when suddenly he whirled and swatted at the cicada attacking his concentration.
Two holes later, on the 14th tee, DeChambeau shook his head in disgust while swiping at cicadas like a snacker wiping crumbs from his shirt.
Contrary to what you may have heard, none of the cicadas was named Brooks Koepka. It is true, however, that inverted symbolism played out at the Memorial Tournament Friday as DeChambeau went full Bruce Lee on the insects. Translated: DeChambeau typically is the one doing the bugging.
At least that is the standard storyline, that the blonde bomber in the Ben Hogan hat is more annoying than the red-eyed winged party killers. (Related: an outside-the-box golfer such as DeChambeau only comes along once every 17 years or so).
You know … “Bryson acts like the smartest guy in the room.”
And …“Bryson won’t let you forget he’s the mad scientist, revolutionizing the game with his length off the tee and his 2.7 million-calories-a-day diet.”
And … “Bryson makes NASCAR drivers look like endorsement slackers with how often he mentions his sponsors.”
And … “Bryson makes Phil Mickelson appear authentic.”
Is some of the grenade tossing justified? Sure. DeChambeau revels in his intelligence and does himself no favors with his occasional on-course behavior that comes off as whiny and condescending, like when he took a rules official to task in July at the Memorial or two weeks earlier when he went off on a TV cameraman whose lens lingered too long as DeChambeau struggled on the seventh hole of the Rocket Mortgage Classic in Detroit.
Or like on Friday when the defending U.S. Open champion contacted security after taking exception with fans taunting him by yelling “Brooksie,” as in Koepka.
“Bryson had an issue with some spectators and notified security, who dealt with them,” a tour media representative confirmed.
Every single person yelling “let’s go brooksy” at Bryson is being pointed out by both Bryson and his caddie and being escorted out of the Memorial tournament by police. If that’s not considered rent free then nothing is. @PFTCommenter
— Cooper Lindhardt (@CooperLindhardt) June 4, 2021
Complaining millionaires are never a good look. But strong personalities, such as DeChambeau and his feud buddy Koepka, help the game more than hurt it. They can be annoying, but at least they are interesting, which helps explain why the largest galleries at Muirfield Village Golf Club belonged to DeChambeau, who won the 2018 Memorial, and playing competitors Jordan Spieth and Patrick Cantlay.
Of that trio, DeChambeau and Spieth ooze with intrigue. Cantlay, the 2019 Memorial winner, has more personality than his straight-faced visage suggests, but he was not the reason for the swarming spectators, who pressed in to watch the Thinker (DeChambeau) and the Talker (Spieth).
Funny how these things work. Before DeChambeau arrived on Tour in 2016, Spieth was maybe the most interesting player in the game. The young Texan’s “aw shucks” image also made him extremely popular with fans, who enjoyed hearing the three-time major championship winner share his triumphs and tragedies with caddie Michael Greller.
If Spieth thinks it, he says it. DeChambeau is less vocal overall, but is not afraid to speak his mind. He just needs to work on speaking it more eloquently. Or maybe without sounding entitled. Then again, it’s not like the long hitter is lacking in fan support.
Given a choice, I’m guessing fans would rather follow DeChambeau than Koepka, who is stoic bordering on stuck up. Koepka is long off the tee, which sells tickets, and more accomplished, having won four majors to DeChambeau’s one. But DeChambeau is longer and more entertaining, his drives on Friday landing in spots seldom seen at the Memorial, which is both good and bad for the 27-year-old from Modesto, California.
The good: DeChambeau ranked second in average driving distance through the first round of the Memorial (299.9 yards). The bad: he ranked 117th in driving accuracy.
That dichotomy of long-but-not-always-straight played out to the delight of the Memorial galleries. At No. 15 he blasted his drive 312 yards into the fairway as fans circling the tee box oohed and aahed. But two holes earlier, at No. 13, he pushed his drive so far out of bounds it crossed a property line fence on the fly, nestling at the base of a tree in a homeowner’s back yard.
Almost immediately after the errant drive, DeChambeau let out an “Oh, shoot.” And, yes, he really said “shoot,” which may seem a small thing but signifies who DeChambeau is deep down: a nerdy know-it-all trying to navigate sudden celebrity. Sometimes, when substituting fake for friendly, he gets lost along that path.
But not always. As DeChambeau slumped toward the 18th tee after double-bogey at No. 17, a lad of maybe 4 or 5 yelled, “It’s OK, Bryson.”
The player turned, “Aw, thanks buddy.”
The sentiment seemed real, bugging no one.