Scottie Scheffler May Not Have Aura, But He Possesses Something Just As Interesting

Scottie Scheffler has no aura. 

He’s boring. 

He looks like The Lego Man, and has about as much personality. 

He gets snippy with the press over innocuous questions. 

He frequently complains about fairness in a sport defined by how you handle bad breaks and random bounces. 

He throws mini tantrums on the rare days he isn’t playing well. 

Those are the most common complaints Scheffler’s detractors tend to bring up when they talk about the No. 1 player in the world, and there is (admittedly) some merit to each one. Scottie is not for everyone. He doesn’t have Rory McIlroy’s charisma or Tiger Woods’ kinetic energy, and for a sizable portion of golf fans, he’s been harder to embrace than previous standard bearers. 

I did my best to present a counterargument prior to the Masters, the case for why Scheffler is much more interesting than you might realize, and you can read it here if you missed it. But there is one element of Scheffler I failed to touch on in that piece, and I was reminded of it as I watched him prepare for the PGA Championship at Aronimink this week. 

Few players have ever loved the methodical, borderline-banal act of working on their craft and trying to master it more than Scheffler. 

Yes, he wants to win trophies and be an important part of the game’s history. Yes, he loves to compete. But all of that is secondary to an obsession with tinkering over the artistry of his trade. 

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“For me, getting better at golf is such an interesting and fun thing to try to accomplish,” Scheffler said this week. “You're always toeing the line between getting better and getting worse. When I can go out by myself and practice and have something that I want to work on and improve on, that's one of my favorite things. I love trying to figure things out. That's always been what's driven me.”

You could convince yourself this is true of a lot of professional golfers, but if you spend enough time around the game, you realize it is not. Some players love the competitive mania of playing in tournaments, some love the lifestyle the game has to offer, and some are here because they realized, at a certain age, they were blessed with the kind of talent they knew they should not squander. Very few derive almost a perverse satisfaction out of trying to master a game that even they know, deep down, cannot be conquered. 

Woods had that in his DNA, and so does Scheffler. 

The accomplishment is almost secondary to the art. 

I didn’t really realize that until earlier this year when Scheffler mentioned that he loves to grill other players about how they hit certain shots. Jordan Spieth, in particular, ends up on the receiving end of it when it comes to obsessing over the short game. How do you hit that chip with draw spin? How do you make the ball land so softly? How can I incorporate some of that into my own repertoire? 

“He’s always been like that, he’s always been a grinder, and it’s actually something he had to work on doing less of,” said Spieth, one of Scheffler’s closest friends on Tour and a frequent practice round partner. “He seems to be always curious, especially when you get shots that aren’t your standard shots.” 

There has been a lot of buzz this week about Scheffler and McIlroy finally facing each other when they’re both playing well, and what that might say about who is the game’s best player. Scheffler was asked if the prospect of a duel with McIlroy motivated him at all. 

He admitted that it did not. 

“I think, when I look over the course of my life, my sources of motivation have always been internal,” he said. “I don't really look for a lot of sources of outside motivation.” 

It’s impossible to say, right now, whether Scheffler will ever grab the attention of the public the way McIlroy has or the way Woods did in his prime. What is reasonable to say is that Scheffler doesn’t care one way or another. He loves competition but isn’t in it for money, and he would trade away whatever fame he’s achieved if it meant he could get three hours a day of solitary practice without being bothered by anyone. 

“He’s so single-minded, focused on doing what he has to do,” said Adam Scott. “He doesn’t get caught up in distractions, he doesn't make his own distractions. He just does what he knows he needs to do to win every week. He measures himself by some other standard. It’s slightly unusual for a superstar athlete. And I say that with nothing but admiration for him.”

So while it’s probably true that Scheffler has no aura, he seems to possess something just as interesting. The understanding that he doesn’t need it to get what he wants out of the game.