Bryson DeChambeau is Not Human

The golf season for 2020 was looking dismal due to COVID-19 until Bryson DeChambeau stepped onto the first tee at Colonial Country Club for the opening round of the Charles Schwab Challenge. During the shutdown, Bryson had re-engineered his body through an aggressive regimen of weightlifting and protein drinks to add 20 pounds of muscle and ¾ of a mile to his drives. All three people in the gallery were stunned at the sight of his new powerful physique.

At 6’ 1”and 239 pounds, Bryson now had the muscularity of an NFL linebacker and was 50 pounds heavier than your average professional golfer. Standing next to him, Ricky Fowler looked like a lawn ornament. Bryson’s golf shirt was stretched so tight, you could see what he had for lunch. And he was signing autographs with his pectoral muscles. His transformation was complete. He was now Conan the Country Club Barbarian.

Since turning pro in 2016, Bryson has applied his degree in physics from SMU to transform traditional approaches to golf. He factors velocity, mass, and vector forces into his swing, while the rest of us just worry about not falling down and keeping our shirt tucked in. He devised an unconventional stiff-armed putting stroke, he cut all his irons to be the same length, and he uses exceptionally thick grips made by Jumbomax, the same company that makes pants for stout professional Harry Higgs. Bryson’s cerebral approach to the game has earned him the nickname “The Scientist”, as well as scorn from some of golf’s purists and fellow pros. However, one thing is now certain. With his new intimidating physique no one will ever again get in his face about slow play.

Like Bryson, I added 20 pounds during the shutdown; however, it was not muscle, mostly mashed potatoes. Apparently, Yoohoo is not a protein drink. My swing speed declined while my fork speed reached an all-time high. So, it was fair to question if Bryson’s added bulk would translate into greater driving distance or negatively impact his ability to torque into the ball.

That question was soon answered. At Colonial, Bryson hit 7 drives over 354 yards. The following week at Hilton Head, he was hitting the ball too far to use the driving range and was forced to warm up in the median strip of Rt 278. CBS broadcaster Dottie Pepper began wearing ankle weights to keep from being sucked into the vortex of his swing. And, in addition to replacing divots, Bryson’s caddy was having to replace tee markers.

With his new superpowers, Bryson can reach some par fours in 1, he can hit every par five in 2, and from his hometown in Dallas he can reach Houston with a driver and a 3 wood. You can hear the whoosh of his swing from several fairways away, followed by a sonic boom. If the average golfer would swing that hard, the sound would be the popping of a hamstring. Regularly outdriving his playing partners by 30 to 40 yards has become Bryson’s way of social distancing.

Unfortunately, there are no crowds to watch him play. When it comes time to allow spectators again, his drives may be even longer. It is common knowledge that the adrenalin rush an athlete derives from a crowd of spectators has a positive effect on one’s performance. That is why I had bleachers set up in my honeymoon suite.

Gary Player and Tiger Woods were pioneers of conditioning, but Bryson has taken physical fitness to a frightening new level. Unfortunately, now that he has the same frame as a ‘57 Chevy, some commentators and fans are whispering about the possible use of steroids. This is nonsense. I have a more reasonable theory. I believe he is not human.

I believe he is golf’s version of the Terminator. Part man, part machine. A cyborg model 101 sent back in time to beat Brooks Koepka and Rory McIlroy. It is the only logical explanation. There is clear evidence to support my hypothesis. An unidentified player says he accidentally picked up Bryson’s water bottle and it was filled with motor oil. Several groundskeepers claim that on the windy back nine at Harbour Town, they saw Bryson’s caddy screwing his cap back on. And it is rumored that in the locker room at Colonial, he broke wind and a bolt fell out. I rest my case.

However, Bryson’s physiological experiment faltered in its early stages. Despite his impressive muscle mass and booming drives, he failed to win his first three tournaments. Even worse, he was outplayed by 155 pound Abraham Ancer, 167 pound Kevin Na, and 160 pound newbie, Colin Morikawa. The old adage of “drive for show and putt for dough” was holding true until Bryson broke out and posted a solid victory at the Rocket Mortgage Classic.

So, no matter how the golf season progresses or whatever Bryson’s personal Manhattan Project produces, we should all be grateful for his innovative approach to the game and for giving fans something to clamor about amid this season of sterilized golf.  And if you ever see an object streaking across the evening sky or bouncing off your airline cabin window, it could be one of Bryson’s drives. This may not seem humanly possible, but remember Bryson DeChambeau is not human.