Riviera’s Curious Curse: Why Golf’s Greatest Can’t Crack Pacific Palisades

There’s a question that’s nagged at me for decades, one I’ve actually posed to Jack Nicklaus himself over a drink at a tour event back in the ’90s. Why, I asked him, couldn’t he win at Riviera? The Golden Bear just smiled and shrugged: “I’ve had some pretty good rounds here but never four that were good enough to win.” Honest answer from an honest man. But after 35 years covering this tour, I’ll tell you what strikes me most about Riviera Country Club – it’s not just a golf course. It’s a humbling reminder that even greatness has its limits.

This week’s Genesis Invitational marks the 100th anniversary of what was originally called the Los Angeles Open, and the venue’s tournament history reads like a Hall of Fame roster. Yet there’s a conspicuous absence in that record book that tells us something profound about competitive golf.

The Elephant in the Room at Riviera

Let’s get right to it: Jack Nicklaus never won at Riviera. Tiger Woods never won at Riviera. And as of this week, the two finest players of our current era – Scottie Scheffler and Rory McIlroy – remain winless there as well.

Think about that for a moment. We’re talking about four players with a combined 57 major championships, countless records, and a resume of victories across every significant venue in professional golf. Yet Pacific Palisades remains unconquered territory for all four.

The winners at Riviera read differently. Bubba Watson with three titles. Phil Mickelson and Fred Couples with two apiece. Tom Watson and Lanny Wadkins with two each. All excellent players – make no mistake – but none of them occupy the same stratosphere as Nicklaus or Woods in terms of overall dominance.

In my three decades covering the tour, I’ve learned that sometimes courses reveal truths about players that statistics alone cannot. Riviera, I think, is exactly that kind of course.

Decoding the Riviera Puzzle

The course itself demands a particular skill set. It favors length off the tee, certainly – that explains why Watson’s prodigious driving has translated to three wins. But here’s what casual fans often miss: the real test at Riviera isn’t in the macro, it’s in the micro.

“It’s one of those rare weeks where you just can’t get away with firing at flag sticks. Precision is so key, but being smart and recognising when even being precise still won’t work out.”

That’s Jordan Spieth reflecting on what makes Riviera different, and he’s identified something crucial. The course doesn’t punish aggression – it punishes careless aggression. The greens feature Poa Annua grass that strips spin off approach shots. There’s minimal rough to catch mistakes. And the bunkering is positioned to make you think before you attack.

It’s a course that rewards shotmaking versatility and course management maturity. Having caddied for Tom Lehman back in the ’90s, I saw firsthand how the best players manage their games around such layouts. They’re not playing the same shot twice. They’re reading slopes, managing spin, working the ball into different shapes.

The Lefty Connection and Augusta’s Shadow

Here’s an observation that’s worth examining: three of Riviera’s most successful recent winners – Mickelson, Watson, and Mike Weir – are all left-handed golfers. Coincidence? I’d argue it’s more than that.

What these players share isn’t just their grip. It’s a particular feel for shot-shaping that Riviera demands. The course rewards a natural left-to-right ball flight for right-handers, but more importantly, it rewards creative shotmaking. Watson and Mickelson are among the tour’s most imaginative players. They’ve succeeded because they embrace the puzzle rather than try to overpower it.

Spieth made another observation that connects Riviera to Augusta National, and I think he’s onto something vital here. The courses are distant cousins. Both reward precision over power, creativity over consistency, and course management over raw talent.

“It’s why Bubba likes it so much, because of the shotmaking ability that he has and it just brings the feel out in his game.”

That’s the real differentiator. At Riviera, you can’t finesse your way to victory with one dominant skill. You need range.

The Scheffler and McIlroy Question

Which brings us to the present. Scottie Scheffler is the most dominant player on tour, yet he’s never finished better than seventh at Riviera and has never seriously contended. Rory McIlroy has come closer – a fourth-place finish in 2019 – but he’s also failed to mount a sustained challenge in recent attempts.

I don’t think this is cause for concern for either player. What troubles me more is whether Riviera is asking questions about Scheffler’s versatility that he needs to answer. He’s a complete player, no question, but the courses that test creativity rather than consistency have proven tricky for him historically. McIlroy’s issue is different – he’s got the shotmaking ability but hasn’t quite found the right formula for the specific demands of Pacific Palisades’ greens and approach angles.

Both will likely win here eventually. But the fact that they haven’t yet? That’s not a scandal. It’s simply proof that even in modern professional golf, where equipment and training have narrowed the margins, certain venues still possess character that can’t be engineered away.

What It All Means

Riviera matters because it stands as a reminder that golf isn’t entirely predictable. The greatest players in the world – yesterday’s and today’s – sometimes meet their match in a specific place that doesn’t suit their particular genius. That’s what makes this game perpetually fascinating after a century.

The Genesis Invitational this week won’t suddenly change history. But it will continue a fascinating narrative about excellence, limitation, and the beautiful complexity of competitive golf.