The West Coast Swing Reveals Golf’s Future—And It’s Complicated

I’m writing this from seat 23C, somewhere over the Midwest, and my knees are already complaining about the economy-class treatment. But you know what? I don’t mind the cramped quarters when I’ve just spent three weeks watching professional golf sort itself out in real time.

The 2026 West Coast Swing wasn’t just a collection of tournaments. It was a referendum on where this sport is headed—and I’m not entirely sure the PGA Tour knows the answer yet.

The 26-Year-Old Revolution Is Real

Let’s start with what jumped off the leaderboards immediately. Chris Gotterup won twice in the first month. Jacob Bridgeman just captured Riviera in his breakthrough moment at age 26. That’s not coincidence or media narrative-spinning; that’s a genuine changing of the guard happening in real time.

In my 35 years covering this tour, I’ve learned to recognize when a generation is arriving. This feels different from the Rory-McIlroy-at-25 moment or even the Scottie-Scheffler emergence. There’s a depth here. These kids aren’t just talented—they’re *composed* in chaos. Gotterup played his best at the Phoenix Open when things were loudest and most unpredictable. That’s a sign of someone who’s mentally built for the modern tour.

What strikes me is the contrast with what we’re *not* seeing. Where are the 25-year-olds? The article nails this: Akshay Bhatia, the Hojgaard twins, Brennan Michael, and Thorbjornsen are all knocking on the door, but we’re waiting for someone—anyone—to truly break through and create that next wave. With Tom Kim in a rut and Blades Brown merely stealing moments rather than owning weeks, there’s a gap in the age cohort. That’s worth monitoring over the next year.

The Scheffler Paradox: When Dominance Looks Messy

Now, about Scottie Scheffler’s Thursdays. I need to be careful here because this is the kind of thing that can snowball into overanalysis, but it’s genuinely strange. The man opened at the American Express with a 63 and somehow finds himself 116th in first-round scoring average. By the time play halted at Riviera, he was in dead last.

Then he shot 65, 67, and 64 in his remaining rounds and clawed his way to a T12. Here’s what his weekend scoring looked like:

Scottie Scheffler’s 2026 Round-by-Round Scoring Average:
Round 1: 70.50 (116th on Tour)
Round 2: 65.75 (2nd on Tour)
Round 3: 67.00 (7th on Tour)
Round 4: 64.50 (2nd on Tour)

In 35 years of caddieing and covering this game, I’ve seen players in funks. I’ve seen players protecting leads. I’ve never quite seen a player this dominant look this vulnerable on opening days and then resurrect himself through sheer willpower and skill. The streak of 18 consecutive top-10 finishes ending? That’s not a loss. That’s actually a relief valve—a reminder that even Scheffler is human.

My gut tells me this is exactly what the article suggests: a weird blip on the radar. He led the tour in first-round scoring last year. But if this persists? That’s when we start asking real questions about mental approach and course setup.

California’s Moment, Hawaii’s Ghost

Collin Morikawa finally breaking through at Pebble Beach after too long away from the winner’s circle felt *right*. Jake Knapp quietly putting together his best golf of his career (five consecutive finishes no worse than T11) represents another California kid capitalizing on home-state advantage. These moments matter more than casual observers realize—there’s genuine motivation that comes from playing your best golf in front of home crowds.

But here’s what haunts this swing: the absence of Hawaii. The PGA Tour skipped Kapalua under controversial circumstances, the Sony sponsorship ran out, and now we’re left wondering if one of golf’s most essential traditions will ever return. I’m not being sentimental here—I’m being practical. Hawaii served a logistical and cultural purpose on the calendar. Yes, it’s a scheduling challenge. Yes, it lacks a “big market” in the way tour executives now think about these things. But tradition and continuity matter in sports, maybe more than algorithms suggest.

“How highly will Rolapp and Co. value continuity, tradition and nostalgia? We’ll see.”

That question haunts me more than most.

The August Question That Won’t Go Away

There’s been serious discussion about moving marquee West Coast stops—particularly Pebble and Riviera—to August as playoff venues. It makes intuitive sense on paper. But the soggy conditions that plagued both courses this year underscore a real problem: February California is firm, fast, and playable. August California is humid, crowded, and logistically complicated.

“If I was in charge, my top priority would be to remove the playoff events from the hellish August humidity of Atlanta and Memphis. I don’t need them in California, though—Boston, Chicago and Seattle are calling, as are a dozen other medium-to-large cities with ideal summer days.”

This is where I have to respectfully disagree slightly with the source article’s author. Yes, we need to escape the brutal southeast in August. But there’s a reason the West Coast Swing works in February: these courses demand firm ground, clean air, and audiences willing to stand outside for hours. Move Riviera to August and you’re not moving a championship—you’re transplanting a corpse.

The LIV Question Still Lingers

Anthony Kim’s comeback victory was legitimately one of golf’s great stories this month. But it also highlighted how unresolved the LIV-PGA Tour situation remains. Jon Rahm still doesn’t have clarity on his Ryder Cup future. The temporary truce between LIV and the DP World Tour feels held together by duct tape and hope.

“LIV and the DP World Tour still seem in an uneasy coexistence and I’m curious how that will resolve.”

After 35 years in this game, I’ve learned that when something feels unstable, it usually is. This won’t resolve quietly. When it does, it’ll matter enormously for the sport’s structure going forward.

What I’m Taking Home

This West Coast Swing wasn’t about any single winner or storyline. It was about transition—generational, structural, and philosophical. Young players are proving they’re ready. Older players are reminding us they’re not done. The tour is wrestling with calendar, geography, and sponsorship in ways that will ripple through 2027 and beyond. And somewhere in all that chaos, the golf itself remained absolutely beautiful.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to stretch these legs.