Fitzpatrick’s Valspar Win Shines a Light on Golf’s Oldest Unsolved Problem

Matthew Fitzpatrick won the Valspar Championship on Sunday, and that’s the headline. But the real story—the one that’s been gnawing at professional golf for nearly a decade—is what happened *while* he was winning it.

In 35 years covering this tour, I’ve watched a lot of talented players grind through four difficult hours on the golf course. I’ve seen them deal with wind, bad breaks, and their own demons between the ears. But I’ve rarely seen someone as visibly frustrated as Fitzpatrick appeared to be, not because he was playing poorly, but because his playing partner’s pace was actively disrupting his own rhythm in a tournament he was trying to win.

That’s a problem we should be talking about more than we are.

The Rhythm Thief

Let’s be clear about what happened at Innisbrook Resort: Adrien Dumont de Chassart had a rough day. An opening out-of-bounds leading to an 8, another 8 at the par-5 11th—these things happen in professional golf. What shouldn’t happen is one player’s misfortune becoming another player’s distraction.

“When you’re not ready to play a golf shot it gets frustrating after awhile. Particularly when you playing well yourself or you’re in contention or whatever it is. It definitely knocks you out of your rhythm.”

Fitzpatrick was describing something I’ve heard from dozens of players over the decades, but rarely with such clarity. In my time as a caddie for Tom Lehman, I learned that golf at the professional level isn’t just about mechanics and course management. It’s about rhythm. It’s about the metronome ticking inside your head. When that gets disrupted—when you hit a good shot and then wait, and wait, and wait before walking to the next one—you lose something intangible but absolutely critical.

The remarkable part? Fitzpatrick still won. He shot 68, claimed his first PGA Tour victory in nearly three years, and did it while essentially playing a one-man match against both his course management and his own mental game. But here’s what strikes me: he shouldn’t have had to overcome that.

Nine Years of Inaction

This is where I get a little pointed, and I say this as someone who generally respects the Tour’s efforts. It’s been nine years since the PGA Tour last issued a stroke penalty for slow play. Nine years. The last one came in 2015, when J.B. Holmes was penalized during the Shriners Hospitals for Children Open. Since then? Nothing. Zero. Nada.

The Tour announced several potential fixes early last season. We’re still waiting to see meaningful enforcement.

Fitzpatrick’s comments from three years ago still ring true, and they should haunt the Tour’s front office:

“The problem is, though, this conversation has gone on for years and years and years, and no one has ever done anything. So I feel it’s almost a waste of time talking about it every time.”

When a player of Fitzpatrick’s caliber—someone who’s won on multiple tours and competed at the highest levels—feels compelled to repeat this message across years and major championships, that’s not just frustration talking. That’s institutional failure.

The Nuance That Gets Lost

Now, I want to be fair here. This isn’t a simple problem with a simple fix. Players do need the time to assess their options, especially when they’re in difficult situations. Stroke penalties can feel arbitrary and unfair when applied inconsistently. I’ve watched enough rulings go sideways to understand the Tour’s hesitation.

But there’s a meaningful distinction between taking time and taking *too much* time, and between playing slowly *because* you’re struggling versus playing slowly *while* you’re struggling. Chassart’s pace on the 11th hole—so glacial that an on-course official had to get involved—crossed a line. An unofficial timing began. An official warning was issued. All of this happened without an actual penalty being assessed.

So what’s the point of the timing? What’s the point of the warning?

In my experience, when warnings carry no teeth, they might as well not exist.

What’s Actually Encouraging

Here’s what keeps me optimistic: the Tour is at least paying attention. Rules official Orlando Pope confirmed on broadcast that they had begun unofficially timing Chassart. That visibility—the fact that it was televised, discussed, and acknowledged—matters. The public conversation around slow play is evolving. Players like Fitzpatrick keep bringing it up. Commentary teams like NBC’s crew are calling it out in real time.

Chassart didn’t get penalized, but he also made T26 and finished with a 74. Sometimes consequences work in ways other than stroke penalties.

The Tour also has stroke-play alternatives in development. Shotgun starts. Tee-to-green timers. Modified formats that incentivize pace. These experimental approaches suggest genuine institutional thinking about the problem.

The Real Issue

What bothers me most isn’t Adrien Dumont de Chassart’s Sunday. It’s that Matthew Fitzpatrick—a player who was in contention for a significant victory—had to manage his own rhythm around someone else’s pace management. That’s backwards. The Tour should be managing this *for* him, not requiring him to manage around it.

Fitzpatrick won anyway, which tells you something about his talent and focus. But he shouldn’t have had to overcome that particular obstacle. And the next time a player faces this situation—because there absolutely will be a next time—the Tour needs to have a better answer than an unofficial warning.

The conversation has gone on for years. It’s time for something more than talk.