The PGA Tour, having apparently shaken off its brief nap, is now setting its sights on the shimmering waters of Bermuda for the Butterfield Championship. I’m picturing the players frantically stuffing their loudest argyle socks next to their SPF 50, because the circuit’s globe-trotting adventure for the FedEx Cup Fall series continues. It’s the kind of geographical ambition that would have made Magellan raise an eyebrow, though thankfully with fewer scurvy outbreaks and a much more predictable trajectory.
Adam Schenk is back to defend his title, a claim I imagine he cherishes more than a perfectly struck five-iron. Last year, he sailed into the winner’s circle for the first time on that very island. He’ll be joined by Austin Lemieux, whose last name hints at a certain familiarity with athletic arenas, though whether that translates to reading a tricky Bermuda green is anyone’s guess. His qualifying round, I’m sure, was a tad less nail-biting than a Stanley Cup overtime.
Adding a dash of inter-circuit drama, Willie Mack III, a veritable legend on the APGA tour with a whopping twenty wins under his belt, is stepping up to the plate. He’s not alone; a gaggle of amateurs is also getting a shot. There’s Kihei Akina, whose recent top-10 finish suggests he’s not just there for the complimentary golf balls. Then there’s the ridiculously young Miles Russell, a mere seventeen years old, and Nixon Lauritzen, whose sponsor’s exemption arrived courtesy of winning the Golfweek National Golf Invitational – a victory apparently grand enough to earn him a ticket to this golfing Atlantis.
The event also feels like a mini-reunion for past champions, a gathering of folks who’ve already wrestled with the windswept fairways of Port Royal. Brendon Todd, Seamus Power, Camilo Villegas, Rafa Campos, and our own Adam Schenk are all gracing the course again. It’s a lineup that promises the kind of competitive fire you usually only see during a particularly heated game of Scrabble, only with more potential for spectacular chip-ins and less arguing over what constitutes a "real word."
With 120 hopefuls teeing it up, the tournament will, predictably, start thinning the herd. We’ll be left with the requisite 65 players, plus any poor souls tied for the cut, to battle it out further. The prize money, a cool $6 million, ensures that while the amateurs might be playing for bragging rights and a tan, the pros are playing for something a bit more substantial. I suspect the allure of $1.08 million for first place doesn’t do much to calm the nerves when facing a knee-knocking, downhill putt.