Scheffler was a brilliant champion at a brilliant venue. He dealt brilliantly with the inevitable and wearisome comparisons to Tiger Woods, too.
Whoever said writing about golf for a living was a glitzy occupation obviously didn’t see a scribbler trying to cobble together a column in an Open Championship media center that’s being dismantled around them.
As our base last week at Portrush was slowly razed to the ground amid a dizzying cacophony of bashing, clattering, boring and battering, the working environment had all the glamour of a flustered toilet break at a dreary motorway service station.
Your correspondent’s general mood was not helped by an ailing laptop that had been showing signs of giving up the ghost.
Over the weekend, for example, the R and the T buttons on the keyboard were only working intermittently.
That, as you can imagine, caused a bit of an issue for a spell as we started feverishly typing away like Angela Lansbury during the opening credits of an episode of "Murder, She Wrote."
Scottie Scheffler would often appear on my Word document as Scoie Scheffle, Portrush came out as Poush and Robert MacIntyre was diminished to obe MacInye.
To be fair, it probably made more sense than what I usually type, but the computer caper became a right old pain in the a***. And even that came out as ase.
We got there in the end, though. Another Open is done and dusted. Perhaps I should’ve just flung the laptop on the media center pyre too?
Scheffler was a brilliant champion at a brilliant venue. I also thought he dealt brilliantly with the inevitable and wearisome comparisons to Tiger Woods, too.
“I think they’re a bit silly,” he said about the prospects of emulating the 15 major titles that Woods racked up.
In this game, we are never done with premature anointings and coronations as we seek a new golfing hero for the ages.
Rory McIlroy, for instance, was tagged with that burdensome “next Tiger” label when he won a quartet of major championships between 2011 and 2014.
We all know what happened after that. He didn’t win another until this year’s Masters during a prolonged drought that just about led to a hosepipe ban.
Jordan Spieth had the Tiger sticker slapped on his back when he won three majors between 2015 and 2017, while Brooks Koepka had it pinned on him for a spell when he reeled off four in a two-year blitz.
The magnitude of Woods’ accomplishments, of course, continues to dwarf all that the new generation has achieved.
In an era of relative parity in the men’s game, Scheffler, who became the 12th successive first-time winner of The Open, has emerged as its dominant force, but it’s important to enjoy the present and savor watching him pen his own success story instead of obsessing about him rewriting Tiger’s tale.
Establishing a Tiger-like tyranny on the global game would require Scheffler to continue his sustained excellence over a ridiculous period of time.
While all and sundry work themselves into a fankle about the prospect of Scheffler doing this, that and the other in the weeks, months and years to come, the man himself retains a wonderful sense of reason.
Never too up, never too down, just serene, level-headed middle ground. He seems to be at total peace with himself.
As men’s professional golf in its upper echelons descended into a civil war over the past couple of years with the emergence of the LIV rebellion, it’s perhaps no coincidence that the calmest man in the room has prevailed and prospered.
In this fractured time, when egos, greed and entitlement have grabbed much of the attention, the grounded Scheffler is just the right man to be on top of the golfing world.
He is largely unaffected by fame and fortune, and all the talk of greatness tends to be greeted with a nonchalant shrug.
“I don't identify myself by winning tournaments, chasing trophies, being famous or whatever it is,” he said.
“There are two Chipotles (a restaurant chain) that I eat at when I’m home. If I was to go to the one near to where I grew up and try to eat nowadays, it would be very difficult for me.
“But there's another one in a different part of town and if I go there, nobody recognises me ever.”
In the post-Tiger age, Scheffler’s relative anonymity can highlight golf’s place in the wider scheme of global sports.
With the exception of Woods and McIlroy, golf’s stars can’t really hold a candle to the shining lights in other pursuits
Have a meander into the remote jungles of Sarawak and you’ll probably stumble upon a village elder wearing a Lionel Messi football shirt, a Ronaldo top or a Steph Curry basketball vest.
I’m being slightly outlandish here, but you get the idea. These sportsmen, and these sports, have a reach across cultures and continents.
Scheffler, on the other hand, could walk down just about any high street, or into a Chipotle diner, and most folk wouldn't bat an eyelid.
That’s not Scheffler’s fault, of course. In these hark-at-me-times, he’d probably have a higher profile if he were prone to headline-grabbing comments or lively antics on or off the course.
But that ain’t Scheffler. And that’s absolutely fine. His talent and achievements alone should be enough to attract acclaim.
Many, though, still view his persona as more day at the office than box office. Undervalued? Perhaps. But unrivalled? There's no doubt.
The magnificent Scheffler will continue to do his dominance his way.
This article originally appeared on Golfweek: Stop comparing British Open champ Scottie Scheffler to Tiger Woods
Category: General Sports
