Jackson Koivun, a chap whose name hints at a certain Nordic stoicism, seems to be handling his sudden fame with the same bewildered calm you’d expect from someone watching a particularly odd cloud drift by. He just snagged his first PGA Tour win, which automatically makes him a shoo-in for the Presidents Cup. You’d think a young fella would be swamped by all the hullabaloo. But Koivun says his summer has been "largely like my friends'," which I picture involves a lot of competitive binge-watching and maybe an excessive amount of avocado toast.
He admits he gets spotted occasionally, usually "at the airport when I'm carrying some golf clubs," but shrugs it off as "nothing too crazy." This, of course, is the finest kind of understatement, a skill perfected by the British and now apparently adopted by rising golf stars. I can just see him smoothly deflecting autograph hounds like a seasoned diplomat dodging a tricky international incident, all while casually adjusting his hat.
Presidents Cup Captain Brandt Snedeker, a man who notices things, played a practice round with Koivun at Sedgefield and declared him a "generational talent." That's some serious praise, especially for a kid who’s already swept "all three major national player of the year awards twice." That kind of success usually comes with a side of youthful indiscretions and questionable life choices, but Koivun seems to be skipping that chapter.
When you ask Koivun about all the fuss, he offers a perspective that's both sensible and a little odd. He claims he "hears it and appreciates all the kind words," but his game plan is to "just tune that out and just go enjoy being out here on the PGA Tour." The mantra of "good golf takes care of everything" seems to be his personal force field against the slings and arrows of outrageous golf fans.
He did admit to a slight case of nerves when Snedeker was watching, which he bafflingly interpreted as a sign that "I don't care." A peculiar interpretation, sure, but it suggests a healthy, if slightly twisted, way of dealing with pressure. He also spilled the beans about a recent trip to see the latest Spider-Man flick, which must have been a nice break from the existential dread of figuring out "what I can do with friends on the road that isn't golfing."
His move to Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, is another big shift. He's now practicing at Bear's Club and Panther National, and he says the area has been "really fun and helpful to my golf game." I suppose the promise of endless sunshine and perfectly manicured fairways is a powerful antidote to the deep philosophical quandaries that surely plague anyone who dedicates their life to chasing tiny white balls across vast green landscapes.