Bryson DeChambeau has it all figured out. Except for Open Championship golf
TROON, Scotland — Bryson DeChambeau’s six-man entourage stood like a raincoat-clad wall along the Royal Troon driving range.

A seventh man, an equipment rep from Titliest, was also in the mix. They all watched DeChambeau pound ball after ball.

It was more than an hour after DeChambeau’s 5-over 76 landed him in a deep hole following Day 1 at the 152nd Open Championship.

The frustration was obvious. Like everyone else in the field, after days of practice in dryer conditions and northwesterly wind, Thursday at Troon delivered proper Open conditions — intermediate rain, a canopy of gray in all directions, and an unexpected flip in the wind to sweeping gales from the south and southeast.

The result was a stumbling showing from the U.S. Open champion — 11 pars, five bogeys, one double bogey, zero birdies and one eagle, courtesy of a 54-foot-putt on the par-5 16th hole.

“It’s a completely different test,” DeChambeau said after the round. “I didn’t get any practice in (Thursday’s conditions) and I didn’t really play much in the rain.”

At the root of the problem, DeChambeau said, was “something equipment related.”

What might that be?

Try to follow.

“The golf ball is — look, I’m not at 190 ball speed, so particularly when I’m hitting driver or 3-wood, those clubs are built for around that speed — that 190 ball speed, and my 3-wood around 180, so (in) colder, firmer conditions the golf ball is not compressing as much,” DeChambeau said to a row of blank faces wearing media credentials. “So it’s probably something along those lines. But I felt like I was swinging it somewhat okay, just the ball wasn’t coming off in that window that I normally see.”

DeChambeau added that he spent the day trying to draw the ball, but it “was knuckling a little bit.” He should have instead played a cut.

“It was a weird day,” he said.

Also weird was DeChambeau not mentioning missing multiple putts inside of 5 feet, hitting his second shot on No. 7 into the 13th fairway, missing eight greens in regulation and walking away with par after hitting a 405-yard drive on the 452-yard, par-4 18th hole.

Such simple blunders weren’t the issue, though. Not in DeChambeau’s eyes. No, no. It was the ball compression. Call the Titleist guy.

An eagle at the 16th for Bryson DeChambeau.

Will this lead to a change in momentum? pic.twitter.com/rVkWXXIdww

— The Open (@TheOpen) July 18, 2024

The amateur psychologists out there can diagnose DeChambeau’s ability to shapeshift blame and unequivocally find fault in the inanimate. But be clear, when it comes to a sport like golf, one that takes pleasure in making its participants question their ability, and why they chose such an imperfect pursuit, and the meaning of life in general, DeChambeau’s capacity to dodge the self-loathing that so many others instinctually accept is … well, it’s something to behold.

On the fourth green, DeChambeau studied a 3-foot, 3-inch putt with his typical neurotic exactness. Then he missed the putt, turned to caddie Gregory Bodine, befuddled, stressing, “Did you see how much that broke?”

This was after missing a 4-foot par putt on No. 1 and a 7-foot par on No. 3.

Most pros would beat themselves up for dropping careless shots in a major. They’d gulp down a heavy dose of blame and stress that such mistakes can’t happen.

DeCheambeau’s explanation for those missed putts?

“Just the rub of the green,” he said. “That’s golf, my man. It’s frustrating, but look, at the end of the day, it’s golf.”

It’s just golf. From the same guy upset with ball compression in nippy conditions.

DeCheambeau is, without question, the most systematic, calculative player in golf. Everything is measured — from the shot at hand to the swing being made. His driving range sessions are recorded with 3-D imaging of every swing, measuring everything from knee bend to shoulder tilt — with corresponding Trackman data to assess optimal positions in the swing. In real-time, those results are sent to a database that computes that swing in comparison to others. By creating a record of optimal swing imaging, the thought is that he isn’t reliant on such abstract notions as swing feels.

This all, of course, sounds like complete madness. But it works for DeChambeau. This is who he is and why he’s successful. He’s won two U.S. Opens with a combination of power, data and innovation that make him entirely unique.

The tradeoff, though, is perhaps vulnerability to variability.

And that’s what you get at The Open, where conditions don’t cooperate with computers.

The U.S. Open champion is in danger of missing the cut at the Open Championship. (Harry How / Getty Images)
At Troon, Thursday morning began delightfully. Then it drizzled as DeChambeau made his way to the opening tee. Then came the rain. Then the wind kicked up as the Firth of Clyde lapped harder upon Scotland’s west coast. There’s no spreadsheet for that.

Asked Thursday about conditions crowding those measurements in his mind, DeChambeau shrugged off the question. “There’s not that many,” he said.

“There’s a couple, but not that many.”

DeChambeau likes to note that he finished eighth at St. Andrews in 2022 as proof of concept that his method can work in an Open setting. What maybe gets forgotten is that the Old Course was especially docile that week. The weather never came out to play. The winner, Cameron Smith, was a blazing 20-under-par. DeChambeau finished eight back.

But his other Open finishes? In more typical conditions? T33, T51, T60 and two missed cuts.

“I can do it when it’s warm and not windy,” DeChambeau said, unironically.

He had no doubt he was right.

For good measure, as the marble-mouthed reporter working under the above byline attempted to pronounce in•cal•cu•la•ble, a self-assured DeChambeau sorted out the correct enunciation.

“Incalculatable,” he said.

(Top photo: Kevin C. Cox / Getty Images)