The Phoenix Open Still Knows How to Deliver—And What Chris Gotterup’s Win Tells Us About Modern Tour Depth
I’ve been covering professional golf for 35 years, and I’ve watched the WM Phoenix Open evolve from a quirky desert stop into one of the most reliably dramatic events on the PGA Tour schedule. This year’s edition at TPC Scottsdale didn’t disappoint, though the outcome might have surprised plenty of casual observers who expected Scottie Scheffler or one of the other heavy hitters to claim victory.
They didn’t. Instead, Chris Gotterup—a player who doesn’t dominate the conversation around tour dominance—walked away with his second win of the season and the $1.728 million first-place check. And that, I think, is the real story here.
When the Script Gets Shredded
Let me set the scene: Hideki Matsuyama arrived at Sunday’s final round with the lead, and he played smart, bogey-free golf on the front nine despite finding almost no fairways. By the turn, he still controlled the tournament. That’s textbook championship golf. Meanwhile, Scheffler—the world’s best player—was lurking just off the pace, waiting for his opening.
Then TPC Scottsdale did what it does best: it went absolutely bonkers.
“Scottie Scheffler stumbled in Phoenix. His response revealed something about his greatness”
That headline captures something important, and I want to unpack it. Scheffler made birdies at 13, 14, 15, and 17 to position himself perfectly for a playoff. The guy is so good that a near-miss still looks like a threat to everyone else. But here’s what strikes me: he didn’t win. In my experience caddying for Tom Lehman back in the ’90s, I learned that proximity to victory and actual victory are two entirely different things. The latter requires execution when the pressure is highest, and Scheffler—for all his brilliance—couldn’t close the deal when it mattered most.
Chris Gotterup, though? He birdied 13, 14, 15, 17, and 18 to post 16-under and set the clubhouse lead at 268. That’s not just good golf. That’s the kind of sustained excellence under pressure that separates winners from runners-up.
The Chaos Factor and Tournament Golf
The back nine at Scottsdale this year was mayhem in the best possible way. Michael Thorbjornsen briefly took the lead with an eagle at 15. Matsuyama answered with a birdie at the same hole. Then Thorbjornsen bogeyed 16 and 17 to fall out of contention. That’s tournament golf at its finest—momentum swinging like a pendulum, pressure mounting with every shot.
“He hit his tee shot on 18 into the church pew bunkers and clipped the lip coming out. He was unable to get up and down from 43 yards, which meant for the seventh time in 11 years, the WM Phoenix Open was headed for a playoff.”
For Matsuyama to bogey only one hole on the second nine all week—and have it come on the 72nd hole in regulation—is genuinely unlucky. That’s the cruelty of professional golf right there. But here’s where Gotterup’s character showed up. In the playoff, Matsuyama pulled his tee shot left toward the bunkers again, but his ball hit a pole holding a gallery rope and bounced backward into the water. Gotterup, meanwhile, got kicked into the fairway by fortune. Then he made a lengthy birdie putt to clinch it.
That’s not just winning. That’s survival.
What This Tells Us About Tour Depth
I want to be careful not to overstate this, but Gotterup’s victory—his second of the season—signals something important about the current state of professional golf. The top tier is still elite. Scheffler is still phenomenal. Viktor Hovland, despite finishing tied for tenth, is still world-class. But the gap between the elite and the very good has compressed significantly.
In my three decades covering the tour, I’ve watched the talent pool deepen dramatically. The international pipeline is fuller. The training methods are more sophisticated. The competition week-to-week is fiercer. Gotterup isn’t some unknown commodity—he proved at Phoenix that he can execute at the highest level when it counts.
That said, let’s not lose sight of what Scheffler and Hovland and the other top players represent. Finishing tied for third at a major PGA Tour event still nets you $439,480. That’s not participation ribbon money. But for Scheffler—the world’s number one—to leave Phoenix without a win probably stings a bit. In my experience, the great ones remember these moments.
The Drama Lives On
For the seventh time in eleven years, the Phoenix Open went to a playoff. That statistic alone tells you everything you need to know about why this tournament matters. It’s unpredictable. It’s compelling. It doesn’t care about world rankings or prior accolades.
Gotterup’s win is proof that on any given Sunday—even at the most exclusive level of professional sport—preparation, mental toughness, and a little bit of luck can combine to produce something unforgettable. The defending champion knows that now. So do the rest of us watching.
