Nothing that Scottie Scheffler did this weekend in winning the Open Championship, golf’s oldest major, will grow the sport of golf. This is not Scheffler’s problem, but there are powerful forces in his sport who might see it as their own. If there are three words that encapsulate how hucksters, capitalists, YouTubers, and authoritarian governments have overrun golf the past few years, these are the three: “Grow the game.” When the Saudi Public Investment Fund launched LIV Golf, a PGA Tour rival, in 2022, Mohammed bin Salman’s employees talked about their desire to grow the game. The PGA Tour has responded with its own efforts to grow the game, like when it invites cadres of YouTube influencers to play “Creator Classics” before its tournaments. One of the most famous golf influencers recently turned down an invitation to play in a tour event because the tour wouldn’t let him bring his own videographer inside the ropes. And let’s be honest: If you can’t make a sick video out of a golf tournament, are you really growing the game? Has anyone grown the game more than LIV’s Bryson DeChambeau, who has two U.S. Open wins and 2.1 million YouTube subs? “I genuinely care about the game of golf and growing it globally,” he said recently. On Sunday, golf’s oldest major championship went to a player who expresses zero interest about any of the above. Scheffler, who just turned 29, isn’t very online. His only viral moment this week, in winning the Open Championship in Northern Ireland, was a moment at his pre-tournament press conference, when he waxed about how little satisfaction he gets from winning tournaments. Scheffler does not find a lot of fulfillment in his own golf, let alone in growing the game. He draws satisfaction from family instead. Scheffler had already earned the designation of “most dominant player since Tiger Woods,” but his dominance at Royal Portrush means we can use broader language. Scheffler won by four shots, taking all drama out of a tournament that had a bunch of big names (including Rory McIlroy, playing in his home country) hoping he would slip up. He led by four entering Sunday, and the man playing with him in the last group, Chinese journeyman Haotong Li, said he was playing for second. (He finished T-4.) Scheffler joined Woods, Jack Nicklaus, and Gary Player as the fourth guy to win the Masters, PGA Championship, and Open Championship before he turned 30. He is about to spend his 150th week as the No. 1 player in the world, more than anyone since Woods. He is now, indisputably, the best post-Tiger player. He is an awkward fit for that mantle, given how golf tries to shapeshift around him. “I don’t think anybody’s like him,” Jordan Spieth, Scheffler’s fellow Texas alum, told reporters Sunday. “He doesn’t care to be a superstar. He’s not transcending the game like Tiger did. He’s not bringing it to a non-golf audience necessarily. He doesn’t want to go do the stuff that a lot of us go do, corporately, anything like that.” Spieth would understand this dynamic better than just about anyone. A decade ago, Spieth was the sport’s sensation. He won three majors early in his career, reached No. 1 in the world, and seemed like he would have a long ride near the top. He’s a popular pitchman for Under Armour, AT&T, and a big batch of other brands. He has three kids and seems like he enjoys his life. He has not managed to have all of that and remain the best player in the world. He hasn’t been a factor at the biggest tournaments in years. That may sound like a setup to juxtapose Spieth with Scheffler as a Tiger-like golf obsessive who has thrown all other important things out of his life, neglected his family responsibilities, and committed himself fully to becoming a golf cyborg. But that’s not Scheffler at all. He avoids a lot of the commercial work that Spieth mentioned, but it’s shocking how much of himself he leaves for things other than the pursuit of golf dominance. Members of his family are with him at many tournaments, so often that his wife, Meredith, and baby, Bennett, are often referenced by their first name only on golf broadcasts, like “LeBron.” Scheffler enjoys playing matches with his friends in Texas, regular civilians who might carry 10 handicaps. “He has hobbies,” Spieth said. “He’s always with his family. They’re always doing stuff.” Spieth sees a “difference in personality from any other superstar that you’ve seen in the modern era in maybe any sport.” This internal harmony has made Scheffler mind-numbingly boring to watch. He does not hit bad shots, and when he does, his immediate recoveries are a good reminder that on the right weekend, nobody else has even a chance. Scheffler’s four major wins have all been blowouts, ever since he double-bogeyed the 72nd hole at the 2022 Masters and still beat McIlroy by three. There was only one moment all weekend at Portrush in which it felt like Scheffler might not win. It came when he dumped an uncharacteristic wedge shot into the fescue left of the course’s 11th hole on Saturday, as McIlroy and others lurked. Surely Scheffler would at least make a bogey, maybe worse, and the tournament would become more interesting. Or not. Scheffler hacked out of the high stuff, made an easy enough par putt, and moved on with his day. He did not make a bogey on the round. When Scheffler is cooking like this, there is nobody in the world—save for an overzealous Louisville police officer—who can disrupt him. It is a notable coincidence that Scheffler exists at the same time so many business interests are trying to make golf appear zesty and new-age. Having such a thoroughly boring world No. 1 isn’t why LIV Golf exists, or why YouTube players now have so much traction, or why Tiger’s new indoor golf league on a big screen now gets air time on ESPN. Those ventures are a response to other things: golf’s timeless ability to attract with well-connected and wealthy audiences, plus an influx of new recreational players since the pandemic. But the implicit foundation of all of these things is a simple idea: that golf would be more fun if it got a fresh coat of paint. LIV plays music at its tournaments. YouTubers don’t tuck in their shirts, and they talk trash with each other as they hit cool-looking shots. Tiger’s “Tomorrow’s Golf League” posits that with less need for land and more technology, more people will find their way to golf. There is some evidence pointing in this direction. Golf participation really is up, and it’s hard to decouple that from such a massive creator ecosystem pumping golf into our algorithms at all times. But all sorts of golf tournaments have had a hard time getting people to watch them on TV—even the Masters, before McIlroy delivered an iconic Sunday this year. LIV has been a ratings flop, earning lots of social media attention but few fans. In 2004, according to Gallup, only 2 percent of Americans said golf was their favorite sport to watch. In 2023, just 1 percent did. All of that is to say that the jury remains out on how effective all the “grow the game” efforts have been in, well, growing the game, and how much of the sport’s recreational growth stems from its availability as an outdoor activity in 2020 and 2021. That Scheffler is the best player post-Woods does raise a point, though. Spieth was astute to point out that golf’s greatest player isn’t bringing golf to non-golf audiences. If there is any work being done right now to make golf more appealing to people who might otherwise not be interested, that work isn’t coming from the best player alive or his golf tour. Maybe it’s coming from YouTubers, but maybe—just maybe—it’s not coming from anywhere. The key to Scheffler’s brilliance is that he doesn’t make that his problem.