There is an argument to be made that there is no athlete in sports who’s hotter right now than Scottie Scheffler, the winner of the Masters at Augusta National on Sunday, recently-inked world No. 1, and compiler of an incredible streak that’s won him four of his last six events. And yet, with golf’s biggest week of the year now in the rearview comes a strange realization. While Scheffler might have set golf ablaze with a stretch that has pocketed him more than $9 million since the middle of February, he is still largely unknown in the wider sporting sphere. There is no question that Scheffler’s the best current golfer but he’s not remotely close to being the most famous, a reality that seems to sit happily with him. But it prompts a pause for thought: What exactly is it that makes a player a household name these days? It’s certainly not just wins and birdies. Scheffler cruised over the line on Sunday, winning by three strokes over Rory McIlroy, but it wasn’t even as tight as that margin sounds. Once Australia’s Cam Smith fell away over the back nine, Scheffler could enjoy a stress-free finish to follow his triumphs at Phoenix, Bay Hill and in the WGC Match Play. Such title-hoarding runs are unheard of on the PGA Tour since Tiger Woods’ pomp, mostly because the overall competition is so high and the number of variables so great. Scheffler has floated into rare air, not just by becoming only the 25th player in history to top the rankings. Yet he’s nowhere near as well-known as Jordan Speith, Dustin Johnson or Justin Thomas. Not as recognizable as Rickie Fowler or Bubba Watson. Scheffler has won more tournaments in two months than either Woods or Phil Mickelson have managed in the past eight years, but he didn’t feature on the 2021 PIP ratings that gave multi-million dollar payouts to the 10 players that most move the sport’s needle, based off metrics such as Google searches and social media impact. Sure, his glut of wins hadn’t happened by then, but don’t necessarily expect him to soar to near the top of the list (with a $10 million bonus) next year. The morning after the biggest afternoon of Scheffler’s career, his Instagram following had climbed to 172,000, but was still dwarfed by most of the Tour’s noteworthy names. They know and love Scheffler in Texas, where he attended the same Highland Park High School as Super Bowl champion Matthew Stafford and World Series winner Clayton Kershaw. However, were he to walk through a random American Main Street with, say, John Daly, it would be the long-retired fan favorite who would turn more heads. Even after last weekend, it is possible that more members of the general public are familiar with Charlie Woods, Tiger’s teenage son, than with Scheffler. Some of it is understandable. Scheffler did play the Ryder Cup last year but was still on the Korn Ferry Tour three years ago. Only those who follow golf on a weekly basis were fully tuned in to his sudden surge of dominance. And his performance amid the manicured magnificence of Augusta was so brilliant that no one could keep up with him, meaning this wasn’t the kind of intense Masters nail-biter that goes down as one for the ages. Part of getting famous comes from ongoing consistency over time, but it is also true that a chunk of the spotlight is reserved for those who actively chase it, and Scheffler doesn’t. He likes spending his free moments with wife Meredith and goes about his business with a minimum of fuss. He doesn’t use his press conferences to put on a performance and show his comedic chops. He doesn’t flash his wealth, although he has made more already this year than Daly in his entire career. You won’t find him beefing with opponents, like the spicy and often hilarious Brooks Koepka-Bryson DeChambeau spat. He’s a family man, and proud of it. You’d be totally fine with it were he to post some champagne-sipping, private jet selfies after a run like this, but it’s not going to happen. He’s simply a regular guy doing completely irregular things within his sport, against the gnarliest courses and best opponents golf has to offer. It takes a lot more for regular dudes to get famous. Scheffler doesn’t appear to want that too much. NFL stars become megastars simply because their sport is so passionately and intently followed year-round. The NBA revolves around nightly social media-worthy moments that can build a player’s lore with a single explosive dunk. In individual sports it takes different things to build a name. A fierce rivalry will do it — think of what the Pete Sampras-Andre Agassi wars did for both players. Heck, during March Madness, a few 3-pointers and an awesome mustache turned Saint Peters’ Doug Edert into a star. Even when Scheffler won it all to crown a childhood dream on Sunday, the nightly news broadcast on some networks led their golf items with Woods, who capped his inspirational return to the sport with a difficult final round of 78. It’s really OK. It is how Scheffler prefers it, admitting to feeling that he doesn’t really belong as the player everyone is talking about. Maybe he will grow into the spotlight and come to enjoy it more over time, such as tennis ace Rafael Nadal and soccer’s Lionel Messi have done over the years. Or not. Not every champion has to be the same. Not every triumph has to feel like a Hollywood epic, and not every superstar has to be a celebrity. “Years from now people may not remember me as a champion,” Scheffler told reporters, a broad smile on his face. “And that’s fine.” |