MONTREAL – For Keegan Bradley, there was at least one small benefit of missing his short par putt late Sunday at the Presidents Cup.
“Well, this will be fun,” he thought.
“Maybe I’ll win the Presidents Cup.”
It was almost inconceivable that Bradley was even in that position.
Thirty-five days ago, he was an afterthought for this U.S. team. Well outside the top 12 in the points standings, he’d already been enlisted by captain Jim Furyk as an assistant for the matches at Royal Montreal, usually viewed as a begrudging acceptance that a player’s best days are behind him. But then Bradley won the BMW Championship as the last player in the field, and Furyk was so impressed with Bradley’s timeliness that he rescinded the invitation, removed him from the support-staff group chat and told him to bring his clubs to Montreal.
It was a remarkable show of faith from Furyk, who chose the 38-year-old Bradley over players such as match-play specialist Justin Thomas, in-form grinder Billy Horschel and young hotshot Akshay Bhatia.
“It would have been easy for Jim to not pick me,” Bradley said, “and I would have understood because of all the great players that were around.”
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Bradley himself had doubts whether he’d ever suit up again for Team USA. His first three cup appearances had been a fever dream, rolling in clutch putts alongside his boyhood hero Phil Mickelson while becoming, for fans, an avatar for someone who cared as much about spirited team competition as they did. Though Bradley and the Americans lost two of those three years, he always assumed he’d get a few more shots at glory. But for whatever reason – the anchor putter ban, a downturn in form, life intervening – those chances never came.
In fact, after a decade away, the closest Bradley came was last fall, as he awaited the captain’s picks for the Ryder Cup. Then he was passed over by U.S. skipper Zach Johnson, his heartbreak captured for millions on Netflix. Bradley’s snub only fueled his suspicion that he was too much of an outsider to ever again be a part of America’s in-crowd.
And so this, of course, has been an unimaginable summer. The call from the PGA of America to lead the Ryder Cup team next year. The playoff victory. And now, finally, a decade later, another Team USA uniform. Looking around at dinners, he realized he was the lone holdover from his last cup team in 2014; one of his teammates that week at Gleneagles was Furyk, then just 44. The only player on the U.S. team who was even on Tour during Bradley’s last cup appearance a decade ago was rookie Russell Henley.
“I really took for granted how special these weeks were,” Bradley said.
Just like on those prior squads, Bradley wasn’t expected to be a dominant force this week; Scottie Scheffler and Xander Schauffele would handle the heavy lifting. Bradley was viewed more as a complimentary piece, a fourball specialist, in addition to being a needed perspective in the team room. When the U.S. last gathered for a team event, last fall in Rome, there was a reported rift in the locker room and quibbles about being paid for play. Even if players suggested the conflict was overblown, the underlying tension still was seen as another stain on the U.S. team culture – that, even after three decades of overseas losses, the selfish Americans still couldn’t put aside their individual differences for a collective goal.
Amid that backdrop, Bradley didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at Royal Montreal last weekend for the initial tuneup. After all, he hadn’t always been this impossibly earnest veteran who was grateful for another chance. He has openly admitted how much he regrets viewing the early stages of his career through such a dark lens – how he treated his peers as his enemies, as serious threats to his rise to prominence. It was unhealthy and, in the end, unproductive. That’s why the initial team interactions this week were so eye-opening.
“I’d sort of heard the team room wasn’t great,” Bradley said, “but, head and shoulders, this was better than any team of mine I’ve been in, and I can’t imagine a better one. These guys are all legit friends. They’re not like PGA Tour friends; they’re going-on-vacation-for-a-week-next-week-type friends. Their wives are all friends. The caddies are all friends. The coaches are all friends. There’s two, three, four layers of this. I was telling my wife every day – I just couldn’t believe it. It shocked me. These guys really care for each other.”
Though Furyk told him to focus exclusively on being a player, that he could fill him in with captaincy notes afterward, Bradley couldn’t help but peek behind the curtain. How Furyk and his staff communicated to players weeks ahead of time about possible pairings. How little touches in the team room served as inspiration. How fast decisions needed to be made, and how delicately some messages needed to be delivered, and how players needed to lead as much with clutch putts as rousing speeches.
“I think it was an important week for him to be a part of this team and see,” said Bradley’s caddie, Scott Vail. “He came in with a different perspective, thinking like a captain, how things are done, all these little details that captains have to think about. It was important for him to be here.”
But Bradley wasn’t merely serving in a ceremonial role. He was used in the opening session, draining six putts longer than 10 feet, including a match-clincher on the last hole, to win his fourball match and give the Americans their first Day 1 sweep since 2000. Though he and partner Wyndham Clark lost Saturday morning, Bradley still ranked, statistically, as the second-best American through four sessions. And so, needing to frontload the singles lineup to thwart any hopes of a miraculous International comeback, Furyk slid Bradley into the sixth spot in the lineup – a possible match-clincher, if his strategy worked. On Sunday, Bradley faced a formidable opponent: Si Woo Kim, the home team’s best player who had ignited Royal Montreal with clutch putting and raucous celebrations.
Over the years, Bradley – an anxious personality with nervy on-course tics – has learned how to manage his emotions in singles play, consciously slowing himself down to avoid expending too much energy. But this was unlike any other Sunday morning in his career.
“I felt like I could throw up,” Bradley said. “I can’t remember ever feeling like that. I was, like, really uncomfortable – properly.”
It was an amazing admission: Here was a player who has won a major, who has competed on teams before, who has been in plenty of big spots in his career, on the verge of hurling in the U.S. team room. The outcome seemingly wasn’t in doubt – the Americans were ahead by four, and they were 10-0 historically when leading heading into singles – and yet Bradley still felt overwhelmed.
“It was just really heavy,” he said. “It was a really heavy morning. It was heavy all week, but this morning I woke up and just, like, felt I had electricity going through my body.”
Bradley played like it, too. He carded six birdies and was assured of at least a half-point when he reached the 16th tee. By that time, it was a mere formality that the U.S. would win its 10th consecutive title; it was simply a matter of who (and where) the cup would be clinched.
After the 3-foot miss on 16 – coupled with Patrick Cantlay’s close-out up ahead – Bradley became keenly aware of where the overall match stood.
“One more point, Keegan!” a fan yelled from the hospitality tent behind 17.
But with another chance to secure the cup, and his teammates ready to celebrate, Bradley couldn’t get his 8-footer to drop, either.
All of a sudden he was just 1 up – and rudely reminded that he was competing on foreign soil. As he prepared to tee off on the 18th hole, with a hazard all down the left side, a fan hounded him: “Hit in the water!” Others mockingly chanted, “Keeeeeegaaannnnn.” But Bradley was unfazed, roping a 300-yard drive into the neck of the narrow fairway and setting up a stress-free par. When Kim’s putt to tie dove left, Bradley had secured the final point necessary.
“It’s never easy, is it?” Bradley said, his eyes welling with emotion.
Finally, for a change, he was the focal point. He was asked how satisfying it was to wait 10 years for a victory. He was asked about the differences in team chemistry. He was asked, after seeing the demands up-close, if he could conceivably be a playing captain next year.
“I told him when he got picked for this team that you need to reevaluate your goals for next year,” said assistant captain Brandt Snedeker, who has already been tabbed by Bradley for a supporting role next year at Bethpage. “You don’t need to be a captain – you need to be a player, because he brings that kind of fire to a team. He loves the competition. We had 12 unbelievable players this week, and he was right in the middle of them. I would never bet against that guy, ever.”
Sure, Bradley found the scenario unlikely, but he’d never rule it out; after all, his unique golfing journey – from a tiny ski town in Vermont, from second-rate St. John’s, from the professional abyss – would have been impossible if not for an insatiable desire or unassailable self-belief.
“But I’m going to push that down the road,” he said.
For now, there was too much to celebrate with his teammates – and too much left to savor. His storybook summer complete, Bradley hugged his family, his friends, his assistants. Then, amid the mob on 18, he found his captain and pulled him close.
“Thank you so much for giving me this.”
Not just a pick. His purpose.
