BEDMINSTER, NJ — Patrick Reed had just made his approach on the par-3 fourth and, although the ball disappeared into Friday’s cloudy sky, you could tell from the sound and his pose that it was the shot he wanted to make, which was confirmed seconds later when I arrive. down 10 feet from the hole. Even for a player of his stature, it was a good shot, one of those shots that underscores the distance between the pros and the rest of the idiots.
However, the momentary astonishment was broken when two men in their 20s began screaming before the ball came to rest. “Oh man, oh man Patty, that’s good! How good is that? Can you see where that goes? Look how good it is!” It was innocuous, if somewhat unpleasant, given the volume and the fact that there were less than eight people around the box. They were screams you’d hear at any golf event and screams generally ignored. Only Reed turned around, just a few feet between himself and the fans, and smiled. “Don’t worry, I knew where I was going,” he commented. Whether it was his response or simply the fact that they had been recognized, the two men were beside themselves and let Reed know that they were pulling toward him as Reed headed toward him. the green.
Now, when it comes to Reed and fan interactions, those who follow the sport understand that this is not how it usually happens. Of course, this is a league that has promised disruption, and one of its canisters of mayhem is delivering a different product than the norm. On that front, give LIV Golf this: It has views you don’t normally see at other tournaments. While there was plenty of sensory overload Friday at Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, one of the strangest sights was that of Reed, the lone wolf of golf, seemingly finally being part of a pack.
“Being here and having the support that we have here, not just with the players but with all the staff and the fields that we go to, the spectators that we have and just being a part of something new and being a part of something that I feel is refreshing. Reed said after writing a seven-under 64 to grab a chunk of the Round 1 lead.
Before going too far down this road, it’s worth noting that there are many, how shall I say?orchestration this week. Part of that comes with the presence of a former United States President, Donald Trump, who on Friday afternoon walked to the 16th tee in the middle of the competition to watch the players do their best not to embarrass themselves in front of him and the crowd that follows his every move. But it’s also the fact that there’s no shortage of controversy about this league: who’s a part of it, who’s behind it, and what it’s all trying to accomplish. So the parties involved are doing their best to keep that controversy at bay. That includes LIV bringing in pseudo-comedians to de-escalate press conferences; when the media asks a tough question, there is an innocuous or silly follow-up question to provide levity for players. We say that to say this: All the players seem to be on their best behavior — with the fans, with the staff, with each other — and this sentiment was best illustrated on the shooting range Friday morning.
Professional golf is a brotherly bunch, but other tournament practice facilities don’t feature as many brotherly hugs and raised fists, howls and friendly discussions as those on display at Trump Bedminster. Maybe it’s the sentiment that comes with guaranteed paydays and signing bonuses, or the trench mentality of those who have been suspended from their respective previous tours. A cynic might cite as an example that this league leans toward exhibition; a proponent might say that the players are really interested in team dynamics. It depends on the perspective of the viewer, and it is something that will not be verified for a while.
Except Reed… well, “brotherly” has never been his jam. She likes to keep things secret, avoiding the company of others when she is in a tournament. Reed prides himself on being unfazed by those around him, beholden to an inner burden known only to him. He can be intimidating. He can be serious and can give off an unwelcoming vibe. He is not here to talk but to work, to compete. If he’s ever seen it on the shooting range, the headphones are always on, doing their best to keep out the noise. Frankly, throughout Reed’s career, there’s been a lot of noise.
Yet there Reed was on Friday, looking like the mayor of Bedminster. Watching him walk down the firing line, exchanging spikes, high fives, each comment drawing a laugh, it would be hard to explain that this is one of the most divisive figures in the sport. Yes, he was there to work, and while other players seemed to be hitting balls to warm up, Reed shuttled back and forth from the congested batting bays to a more spacious part of the field with coach Kevin Kirk to fix his driver. mechanics. But Reed also seemed to be (gasping) enjoying himself.
There is certainly the case that if anyone was truly passionate about the team component of LIV Golf, it was Reed, whose reputation (at least the good part) was buoyed by early career success in the Ryder Cup and Presidents Cup. “Let’s be honest, to me team golf is always amazing, always fun,” Reed said. “Being part of a team where we have four Americans (Reed, Dustin Johnson, Pat Perez, Talor Gooch) on our team, it’s one of those things that’s like one of those mini-team events. I get to go and play for something. It’s not just for me, I’m playing for my teammates. I love that I can look up that leaderboard and not only see my name, but look at my guys, see, okay, what do we have to do? to try to stay on top of the leaderboard. It just gives you a little more edge and a little more fire to go out and play.”
And Reed, like many players, also seems reinvigorated by the shortened schedule. He mentioned in his introductory press conference that, despite the ramifications of joining, he felt that LIV gave him back a quality of life that he couldn’t find on tour. He claimed that being away from his children, the possibility that he was not being a good father was starting to affect his game.
“It wears you out. It affects you as an athlete, it affects you as a person, as a father, and this is for me, I feel like this is the best decision I’ve ever made,” Reed said when he joined LIV. “… Now I can compete at the highest level, but also prepare and prepare for each event and be able to be home, and even though I will be grinding at home preparing, I will be able to spend time with the kids.
At the same time, while this league has been a golden parachute for injury-prone players, common names and those stuck in the purgatory that is golf at 40, Reed, 31, is the rare member. from LIV who is young, in his prime, free of injuries or questions off the field. But Reed too, whether he admits it or not, is in desperate need of a fresh start. He has not been the same player since the incident at the 2021 Farmers Insurance Open regarding relief on a rough plugged ball, one that, following the Rules of Golf, broke an unwritten rule for many, with other players and CBS Sports . broadcast criticizing the eventual champion of the tournament. Along with previous allegations, along with the curious activity of a Twitter account believed to be linked to his family and rumors of problems with his perceived treatment of the PGA Tour, the noise, even for Reed, was getting pretty loud.
So it’s no surprise that Reed, who had only one top-10 finish in his last 16 starts on tour, finished T-3 in his LIV debut at Portland and has a piece of the lead at Bedminster.
“At the end of the day, you keep adding the strength of the fields and the caliber of players that we have, no matter what we’re doing,” Reed said. “You have to work hard, you have to focus, you have to be 110 percent to have a chance to win golf tournaments. He can probably speak for all of us up here; there’s nothing like going out there and having a chance to win a golf tournament on Sunday night and trying to win a trophy.”
But it should be noted that the funny and friendly guy at the shooting range was the same guy at the field. His guard, always up, was down. “I think the fans enjoy it,” Reed said of the experience. “They relax a little more, they get more animated, especially if you’re playing well.”
On the first hole, when a fan yelled how far Reed had gone on his second shot, a shot Reed put less than seven feet away, Reed turned to his right, stared, smiled, and pointed his fingers 2-1- Four. “He rubbed a 7-iron,” Reed’s caddy and brother-in-law Kessler Karain added, forcing Reed to nod and smile again. He was talking to fellow players Paul Casey and Abraham Ancer, chatting with volunteers, joking with Trump. If he wasn’t having fun, well, it was a great performance.
This is not to excuse or overlook the clouds that have followed Reed to this point. It’s not to force a redemption arc. It is not to pass judgment or approval, or change the minds of those who think they know who he is. It’s just saying that it doesn’t seem to matter, at least not here.
Here at LIV Golf, Reed’s past is just that, and it’s overshadowed, along with myriad concerns about the league, by the newness of this course. Here, Patrick Reed can only play golf. No wonder the man seems happy.