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Opinion & Analysis

GolfWRX Interview: Writer Michael Croley

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Michael Croley is a writer and a teacher. Without too much trouble, you can find his collection of yarns, Any Other Place: Stories or his magazine-published essays. What he teaches, is writing. When you interview a writer, you resist being the child of impulse, who tosses out the simplest, mundane inquiries. Instead, you do your level best to come up with questions that compel the subject to sit back and ponder their intricacy, if only for a while. I suspect I’ve done the later here, but you’ll be the arbiter.

Mr. Croley hails from Corbin, Kentucky, but that’s simply an opening for a layered, nuanced story that we won’t come close to completing today. He grew up in the southeastern portion of the commonwealth with an older brother, now deceased, who he adored. In a piece that he wrote for Golf Magazine, Mr. Croley reveals that he would tell folks his favorite basketball player was Larry Bird, because it was his brother’s favorite. In truth, it was older brother Tim who always would be his favorite baller.

While doing a bit of research on Corbin, I came across two items of interest. The first is the geographic location of the burg on interstate 75, smack dab between Lexington and Knoxville. If you want to get from UK to UT, you have to pass through Corbin. The second was a bit funnier. Listed among the most famous people to emerge from the home rule-class city was one Jerry Bird. Also a basketball player, but not nearly as famous as Larry. JBird played at UK, but he would have been no higher than third on Michael Croley’s list of favorite basketball dribblers.

Tim Croley (left) and Michael Croley (right)

Golf prose is the better when great writers choose to write about golf. Not great golf writer, mind you, but great writers. Folks like John Updike, Billy Collins, P.G. Wodehouse, Bernard Darwin, and their ilk. Fortunately for golf and for us, Michael Croley writes about golf. His connection with our game, of course, is connected to his brother and their bond.

RM: Is there more poetry, or more prose, in golf?

MC: A little of both, right? But I guess I’d lean more towards poetry in the best architecture, which leads to better stories and debates (prose) post-round.

RM: Was golf a part of your life while growing up in Corbin, Kentucky? If so, elaborate. If not, when/how did you find the game?

MC: Not at all. We only had one course, a nine-holer at the country club and we weren’t members. Golf definitely seemed like a game for “them” when I was growing up. I found the game in my early twenties when my older brother took it up. It was a way for us to spend time together.

RM: In one of your articles on golf, you reveal the pride you felt in watching your brother hit golf shots high in the air, straight at the target. My brother and I do not share golf, so we don’t have that connection. How did the sharing of golf enhance your relationship with your brother?

MC: It was just a way for us to continue playing and competing with each other as we did when we were boys. As we got older and had families, the golf trip was a way for us to turn out some noise and we built our year around it. I don’t know that golf made us closer–we were always really close–but it gave us a lot of great memories.

Pinehurst by day

RM: Is there a golf club in your bag that you rarely use? If so, which one, what do you fear, and why is it still there?

MC: I rarely keep the 4-iron in the bag. I’ve only hit well, seriously, twice in my life. Also, hybrids don’t treat me well, either. They’re supposed to be miracle clubs for regular golfers but they just baffle me.

RM: As a sometimes-writer on golf, do these story proposals find you, or do you begin with a notion, then seek an outlet or venue?

MC: More often than not, I’m pitching the stories to editors. I try to think of which venues will best support the story.

RM: What type of golf characters would populate your theoretical volume of stories on the game?

MC: The same ones that populate the fiction I write now, I suppose. Folks struggling to figure out who they are. Don’t what all suffer existential crisis on the golf course?

RM: There are at least two general sorts of golf writers: those whose dedication has been to tell the story of golf over the years, and others who are creative writers first, but cannot resist the siren call of golf. Do you have any to recommend, from either camp?

MC: I don’t, really. I’ve tried to read Updike’s essays and don’t enjoy them. I came to golf writing because I wanted, in part, to tell some stories about architecture and learn more about how golf courses are designed and built. Golf is a contemplative game for me, but I’m not contemplating golf when I play but my other writing and my life.

RM: In one of your articles, you mention the sect of golfers that studies the architecture of great courses. Talk a bit about this, about your entry into the coven, and the impact it had on how you played and enjoyed golf.

MC: That was due in part to my brother. He was really enamored with the work of Tom Doak as as I started playing golf I started paying more attention to how courses are built. I read Tom’s book The Anatomy of a Golf Course and that’s when I knew I wanted to write about him. I learned a lot from just talking to Tom and watching him walk the land of a golf course, which I’ve been fortunate to do twice.

RM: You have researched and profiled Anthony Ravielli, the artist who created Ben Hogan’s hands in the famous Five Lessons golf book. Select for us a historical figure from golf’s past, and why you might share 18 holes and a dram or two with that person. For bonus points, where would you play?

MC: Well, I’ll cheat and pick two. The first would be my late brother who passed away in May of 2021. I would play anywhere with him but we’d probably head to Pinehurst No. 2, where I scattered some of his ashes in September and wrote about that for Esquire. A historical figure is a tougher ask because I’m not that enamored of a good number of golfing characters but Donald Ross might be fun because I think he’s the most influential architect in the American game. Might be fun to pick his brain for a round.

Pinehurst by night

Ronald Montesano writes for GolfWRX.com from western New York. He dabbles in coaching golf and teaching Spanish, in addition to scribbling columns on all aspects of golf, from apparel to architecture, from equipment to travel. Follow Ronald on Twitter at @buffalogolfer.

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Opinion & Analysis

The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

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As the editor-in-chief of this website and an observer of the GolfWRX forums and other online golf equipment discourse for over a decade, I’m pretty well attuned to the grunts and grumbles of a significant portion of the golf equipment purchasing spectrum. And before you accuse me of lording above all in some digital ivory tower, I’d like to offer that I worked at golf courses (public and private) for years prior to picking up my pen, so I’m well-versed in the non-degenerate golf equipment consumers out there. I touched (green)grass (retail)!

Complaints about the ills of and related to the OEMs usually follow some version of: Product cycles are too short for real innovation, tour equipment isn’t the same as retail (which is largely not true, by the way), too much is invested in marketing and not enough in R&D, top staffer X hasn’t even put the new driver in play, so it’s obviously not superior to the previous generation, prices are too high, and on and on.

Without digging into the merits of any of these claims, which I believe are mostly red herrings, I’d like to bring into view of our rangefinder what I believe to be the two primary difficulties golf equipment companies face.

One: As Terry Koehler, back when he was the CEO of Ben Hogan, told me at the time of the Ft Worth irons launch, if you can’t regularly hit the golf ball in a coin-sized area in the middle of the face, there’s not a ton that iron technology can do for you. Now, this is less true now with respect to irons than when he said it, and is less and less true by degrees as the clubs get larger (utilities, fairways, hybrids, drivers), but there remains a great deal of golf equipment truth in that statement. Think about it — which is to say, in TL;DR fashion, get lessons from a qualified instructor who will teach you about the fundamentals of repeatable impact and how the golf swing works, not just offer band-aid fixes. If you can’t repeatably deliver the golf club to the golf ball in something resembling the manner it was designed for, how can you expect to be getting the most out of the club — put another way, the maximum value from your investment?

Similarly, game improvement equipment can only improve your game if you game it. In other words, get fit for the clubs you ought to be playing rather than filling the bag with the ones you wish you could hit or used to be able to hit. Of course, don’t do this if you don’t care about performance and just want to hit a forged blade while playing off an 18 handicap. That’s absolutely fine. There were plenty of members in clubs back in the day playing Hogan Apex or Mizuno MP-32 irons who had no business doing so from a ballstriking standpoint, but they enjoyed their look, feel, and complementary qualities to their Gatsby hats and cashmere sweaters. Do what brings you a measure of joy in this maddening game.

Now, the second issue. This is not a plea for non-conforming equipment; rather, it is a statement of fact. USGA/R&A limits on every facet of golf equipment are detrimental to golf equipment manufacturers. Sure, you know this, but do you think about it as it applies to almost every element of equipment? A 500cc driver would be inherently more forgiving than a 460cc, as one with a COR measurement in excess of 0.83. 50-inch shafts. Box grooves. And on and on.

Would fewer regulations be objectively bad for the game? Would this erode its soul? Fortunately, that’s beside the point of this exercise, which is merely to point out the facts. The fact, in this case, is that equipment restrictions and regulations are the slaughterbench of an abundance of innovation in the golf equipment space. Is this for the best? Well, now I’ve asked the question twice and might as well give a partial response, I guess my answer to that would be, “It depends on what type of golf you’re playing and who you’re playing it with.”

For my part, I don’t mind embarrassing myself with vintage blades and persimmons chasing after the quasi-spiritual elevation of a well-struck shot, but that’s just me. Plenty of folks don’t give a damn if their grooves are conforming. Plenty of folks think the folks in Liberty Corner ought to add a prison to the museum for such offences. And those are just a few of the considerations for the amateur game — which doesn’t get inside the gallery ropes of the pro game…

Different strokes in the game of golf, in my humble opinion.

Anyway, I believe equipment company engineers are genuinely trying to build better equipment year over year. The marketing departments are trying to find ways to make this equipment appeal to the broadest segment of the golf market possible. All of this against (1) the backdrop of — at least for now — firm product cycles. And golfers who, with their ~15 average handicap (men), for the most part, are not striping the golf ball like Tiger in his prime and seem to have less and less time year over year to practice and improve. (2) Regulations that massively restrict what they’re able to do…

That’s the landscape as I see it and the real headwinds for golf equipment companies. No doubt, there’s more I haven’t considered, but I think the previous is a better — and better faith — point of departure when formulating any serious commentary on the golf equipment world than some of the more cynical and conspiratorial takes I hear.

Agree? Disagree? Think I’m worthy of an Adam Hadwin-esque security guard tackle? Let me know in the comments.

@golfoncbs The infamous Adam Hadwin tackle ? #golf #fyp #canada #pgatour #adamhadwin ? Ghibli-style nostalgic waltz – MaSssuguMusic

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Podcasts

Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

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Episode #16 brings us Cliff McKinney. Cliff is the founder of Old Charlie Golf Club, a new club, and concept, to be built in the Florida panhandle. The model is quite interesting and aims to make great, private golf more affordable. We hope you enjoy the show!

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Opinion & Analysis

On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

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Last week, I came across a reel from BBC Sport on Instagram featuring Scottie Scheffler speaking to the media ahead of The Open at Royal Portrush. In it, he shared that he often wonders what the point is of wanting to win tournaments so badly — especially when he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t lead to a truly fulfilling life.

 

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“Is it great to be able to win tournaments and to accomplish the things I have in the game of golf? Yeah, it brings tears to my eyes just to think about it because I’ve literally worked my entire life to be good at this sport,” Scheffler said. “To have that kind of sense of accomplishment, I think, is a pretty cool feeling. To get to live out your dreams is very special, but at the end of the day, I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?”

Ironically — or perhaps perfectly — he went on to win the claret jug.

That question — what’s the point of winning? — cuts straight to the heart of the human journey.

As someone who’s spent over two decades in the trenches of professional golf, and in deep study of the mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the game, I see Scottie’s inner conflict as a sign of soul evolution in motion.

I came to golf late. I wasn’t a junior standout or college All-American. At 27, I left a steady corporate job to see if I could be on the PGA Tour starting as a 14-handicap, average-length hitter. Over the years, my journey has been defined less by trophies and more by the relentless effort to navigate the deeply inequitable and gated system of professional golf — an effort that ultimately turned inward and helped me evolve as both a golfer and a person.

One perspective that helped me make sense of this inner dissonance around competition and our culture’s tendency to overvalue winning is the idea of soul evolution.

The University of Virginia’s Division of Perceptual Studies has done extensive research on reincarnation, and Netflix’s Surviving Death (Episode 6) explores the topic, too. Whether you take it literally or metaphorically, the idea that we’re on a long arc of growth — from beginner to sage elder — offers a profound perspective.

If you accept the premise literally, then terms like “young soul” and “old soul” start to hold meaning. However, even if we set the word “soul” aside, it’s easy to see that different levels of life experience produce different worldviews.

Newer souls — or people in earlier stages of their development — may be curious and kind but still lack discernment or depth. There is a naivety, and they don’t yet question as deeply, tending to see things in black and white, partly because certainty feels safer than confronting the unknown.

As we gain more experience, we begin to experiment. We test limits. We chase extreme external goals — sometimes at the expense of health, relationships, or inner peace — still operating from hunger, ambition, and the fragility of the ego.

It’s a necessary stage, but often a turbulent and unfulfilling one.

David Duval fell off the map after reaching World No. 1. Bubba Watson had his own “Is this it?” moment with his caddie, Ted Scott, after winning the Masters.

In Aaron Rodgers: Enigma, reflecting on his 2011 Super Bowl win, Rodgers said:

“Now I’ve accomplished the only thing that I really, really wanted to do in my life. Now what? I was like, ‘Did I aim at the wrong thing? Did I spend too much time thinking about stuff that ultimately doesn’t give you true happiness?’”

Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”

Eventually, though, something shifts.

We begin to see in shades of gray. Winning, dominating, accumulating—these pursuits lose their shine. The rewards feel more fleeting. Living in a constant state of fight-or-flight makes us feel alive, yes, but not happy and joyful.

Compassion begins to replace ambition. Love, presence, and gratitude become more fulfilling than status, profits, or trophies. We crave balance over burnout. Collaboration over competition. Meaning over metrics.

Interestingly, if we zoom out, we can apply this same model to nations and cultures. Countries, like people, have a collective “soul stage” made up of the individuals within them.

Take the United States, for example. I’d place it as a mid-level soul: highly competitive and deeply driven, but still learning emotional maturity. Still uncomfortable with nuance. Still believing that more is always better. Despite its global wins, the U.S. currently ranks just 23rd in happiness (as of 2025). You might liken it to a gifted teenager—bold, eager, and ambitious, but angsty and still figuring out how to live well and in balance. As much as a parent wants to protect their child, sometimes the child has to make their own mistakes to truly grow.

So when Scottie Scheffler wonders what the point of winning is, I don’t see someone losing strength.

I see someone evolving.

He’s beginning to look beyond the leaderboard. Beyond metrics of success that carry a lower vibration. And yet, in a poetic twist, Scheffler did go on to win The Open. But that only reinforces the point: even at the pinnacle, the question remains. And if more of us in the golf and sports world — and in U.S. culture at large — started asking similar questions, we might discover that the more meaningful trophy isn’t about accumulating or beating others at all costs.

It’s about awakening and evolving to something more than winning could ever promise.

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