Look, we all know golf is basically a fancy way of saying "I hate myself" with a few naps in between. But when you throw family into the mix at an Open Championship? Now that’s a recipe for something even better than a perfectly executed chip shot: relatable human messiness. This year at Royal Birkdale, we’ve got two sets of brothers teeing it up, and while they’re ostensibly here to wrestle the Claret Jug, I’m pretty sure the real battle is happening silently over who gets the comfy chair at home.
Meet the Fitzpatricks: Matt and Alex. Alex, the younger one, has apparently inherited the golfing good genes, or perhaps just more patience for his brother’s tantrums. He’s sitting pretty at four-under, a respectable distance from the lead, looking like he might actually get to enjoy the weekend. Meanwhile, Matt’s Open experience has gone from “potential contender” to “disgruntled pigeon trying to nest on the 17th green.” He’s four-over and headed home, which I suspect his parents will find a welcome relief from all those post-round lectures. Less to analyze, more time for tea.
Then there are the Højgaard twins, Nicolai and Rasmus. Bless their hearts. They’re looking like they’ll be packing their bags before the real fireworks start. Still, their presence as a brotherly duo adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole affair. It's a strange battlefield, this pro golf, where siblings can be cut at different times. You can practically hear the awkward pre-round chat: "How'd you sleep?" followed by a quick mental tally of how many strokes separate them. It’s a peculiar kind of sibling warfare, waged with wedges and putters.
Matt Fitzpatrick, the elder statesman of the pair, has the shiny U.S. Open trophy and a PGA Tour win with his brother to his name. Alex, though, is no slouch. He’s nabbed a tour victory himself, proving that talent, much like that weird rash you can’t get rid of, definitely runs in the family. As the wind whips around Birkdale and the scores shuffle, the Fitzpatrick brothers remain tied by their last name and their fate on the leaderboard. It’s a tiny, human moment in the big, indifferent circus that is The Open.