Q&A: Gene Wojciechowski on New Novel, 'All Carry'

We here at The Fried Egg have been trying to read more books in 2026, and so it was a delightful surprise when the rarest of things — a literary novel about golf! — arrived on our doorstep this month. The book, “All Carry” by long-time ESPN writer Gene Wojciechowski, is a welcome distraction from all the fighting over who deserves billions and who deserves millions in the professional game. It’s about an unlikely hero, an aging ex-journalist, a disgraced caddie, and a set of magical clubs. You can see why it checked a lot of boxes for me. I asked Geno if he’d join me for a quick chat about how the book came to be. You can read an excerpt from “All Carry” here. 

How long had this idea for this book been percolating in your brain? 

I have a couple sets of MacGregor persimmon woods, as well as MacGregor and Hogan irons from the 1970s. My dad played them, then handed them down to me. Against my wife’s will, they’ve occupied space in our basement for years.

I knew that Jack Nicklaus played MacGregors and somehow that crumb of a fact eventually led to an idea that bubbled to the surface five or so years ago: What if a set of old clubs made and meant for the great Nicklaus possessed some sort of magical qualities? And those clubs ended up in the hands of a just-fired 18-handicap golf reporter? Sort of, Roy Hobbs had Wonderboy in “The Natural.” In “All Carry,” Joe Riley has the MacGregors.

We talk a lot at Fried Egg Golf about how distance is bastardizing modern architecture, and yet you’ve written a golf book about an 18-handicap who can drive the ball 400 yards. Can we submit your book to the USGA and to Fred Ridley as evidence that this issue has reached critical mass? 

My guy sends the ball 400 yards-plus, but he does it with a handmade persimmon driver, as opposed to today’s drivers, which have clubheads the size of curling stones, technology that would befuddle Einstein, and design teams pressing the distance envelope at every chance. As for the USGA and Fred Ridley, I’d appreciate it if they’d buy the book, but I get your point relative to the distance debate.

For the record, USGA equipment specialists were generous with their time and expertise as I researched club design. And in the novel, the Masters chairman has a huge soft spot for Riley and those old-time Nicklaus clubs. It’s also no accident in the novel that I write a love letter of sorts to my hometown Chicago Golf Club, site of assorted long-ago U.S. Opens, among others. Chicago Golf is a course that hasn’t tried to reinvent itself relative to distance.

As someone who has been addicted to training aids his entire golfing life, this book isn’t helping that addiction. You’ve delved deeply into the psychology of athletes throughout your career. Why are golfers like us always looking for the magic bullet instead of taking lessons and practicing? 

Because we’re weak and desperate. And I can live with that shame.

Just about every double-digit hacker can recite Hogan’s famous phrase about hitting shag bag after shag bag on the range: “The secret is in the dirt.”

Problem is, dirt isn’t any fun. It’s work. Instead, we head to our local golf shop, hit a few demo drivers, and order the most expensive one. The secret is in the credit card.

Don’t tell anyone, but I actually love spending hours on the range and/or short-game areas. 

When I was covering golf for ESPN, I stood transfixed watching Tiger, Rory, Scottie, Spieth, etc., working their bags and then performing magic in the short-game practice areas.

The simple truth is this: the great athletes find joy and satisfaction in what we mere mortals find as drudgery. I’m learning to embrace the drudgery and dirt.

True or False: Golf would be a better game today if athletes, like the main character in the book, played with persimmons and blades. 

Brilliant question. I think technology has made golf more accessible to the masses. But there’s something to be said for your premise. Persimmons and blades force you to learn how to shape and control the ball. A persimmon driver is the size of a teacup. It doesn’t have a five-position weight track on its underbelly. There’s no technology assist mechanism in persimmons.

And to your earlier question: persimmons and blades would make more courses relevant. Club manufacturers might not be thrilled, but that’s life in the NFL.

In “All Carry,” there comes a moment when Joe Riley has to reconcile the blessing and the curse of being able to hit a ball that far. And he has to do it during the final round of the Masters.

Why do you think golf appeals to people who are a little bit broken? 

“A little bit broken?” You’re the master of understatement. If you’re not broken before you take up the game, you will be soon enough.

There’s a scene in “Jerry Maguire” where Tom Cruise, the player agent, suffers a monumental help-me-help-you meltdown in front of his lone client, Rod Tidwell (played by Cuba Gooding Jr.). An amused Tidwell tells Maguire, “You are hanging on by a very thin thread. And I dig that about you!”

That’s you. That’s me. That’s all of us when it comes to golf. Golf knows we are hanging on by that very thin thread, so occasionally it will throw us a bone: a birdie putt from the collar, a wedge that spins back to kick-in range, a drive that just clears the corner of the dogleg. It doesn’t happen near enough, but it happens just enough to keep us from becoming fully broken.

The perfection of golf is that there is no perfection. It can’t be fully conquered. It mocks and teases us differently each round. Unlike baseball, you can’t pitch a perfect game in golf

So, yeah, we’re a little broken—but in a good way. 

Golf writing has been an essential part of the game since its inception. Is there hope for future generations of golf writers? 

Hell, yes. For every golf influencer (I still don’t know what that means), there is another Bamberger, Jenkins, Thompson, Diaz, Reilly, Callahan, KVV, Harig, Shipnuck, Green Jr., Murray, Ferguson, Lynch—I can go on and on—who will interpret the game in ways that will blow the golf towels off our bags. I can’t wait to read them.

‍“All Carry” is available March 31. Pre-order a copy here.