The golf world, bless its easily impressed little heart, has once again crowned Scottie Scheffler the undisputed king. His latest triumph at the FedEx St. Jude Championship has only cemented his grip, making oddsmakers offer odds so short they’re practically on tiptoe. Betting on Scheffler these days feels like betting on gravity to keep your feet on the ground; it’s a foundational principle of existence, and apparently, professional golf.
His jump to +300 favoritism for the upcoming BMW Championship at Bellerive CC is, frankly, a bit boring. It screams that the gap between the World No. 1 and everyone else is wider than my student loan debt, though thankfully with less lingering dread. Scheffler’s relentless consistency, especially his recent win, shows a guy who’s figured out not just the swing, but how to make golf’s usual wild ride feel like a predictable commute.
Then there’s Rory McIlroy. After apparently taking a breather from the sheer exhaustion of being Rory McIlroy, he strolled back into the St. Jude Championship looking like a retired gladiator trying to fight off a swarm of angry wasps with a noodle. An 8-over-par finish, landing him in 66th place, served as a rather stiff drink of reality. Even legends get rusty, and sometimes that rust is thicker than a forgotten sandwich in the back of your golf bag.
But here’s the kicker: McIlroy’s still getting +1375 odds for the BMW. This speaks to a deep-seated, almost delusional hope for a comeback, or maybe just our collective inability to let go of the "prodigal son returns" narrative, even when he looks like he’s forgotten where he parked his chariot.
Tagging along behind these two are names like Sam Burns and Tommy Fleetwood, their odds stretching out like a really lazy slice. And then we have the philosophical trio of Xander Schauffele, Ludvig Aberg, and Cameron Young, all clumped around +2000. Their odds feel less like a prediction and more like a polite suggestion that, hey, something exciting could happen, even if it’s about as likely as me winning the lottery while simultaneously finding a unicorn.
The sheer number of names on the odds list, stretching all the way to +27000 for Sahith Theegala, is a stark reminder. It highlights the chasm between the golfing deities and the rest of us mere mortals, all praying to the fickle gods of wind and the inscrutable bounce of the ball. It’s a humbling spectacle, as always.