The stage at Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey, is big enough to park a 747. The hall itself could house multiple airplane hangars. It was in this space, 10 years ago, booming off the rafters and packed with screaming fans, that I heard the words “Miss America is…”. And my life changed forever.
After the confetti had fallen, I was dragged off-stage to begin the formal Miss America introductions. At some point between the stage and the security briefing room, Rodney Neely, our security director, intercepted me.
“Kira, congratulations,” he said. “Do you play golf?”
In the frenetic energy of it all, I blurted out: “Yes!” Rodney’s eyes lit up. He promised to follow up.
Turns out, Rodney was also the security director for the BMW Pro-Am, an event on what is now the Korn Ferry Tour. It’s a celebrity pro-am in Greenville, South Carolina, that is always looking for more celebrity women to play. At the time, Miss America traveled at least 20,000 miles a month and was in a different city every two days. My every waking moment was scheduled by a team of staffers based outside of Atlantic City. One day, the golf tournament appeared on my schedule, and the memory of that conversation with Rodney came rushing back.
Thankfully, I really did play golf. As the child of Russian immigrants, my parents thought it was important for their daughter to learn this essential American business skill. So on a family vacation to Florida when I was 3, my dad – who had never played golf a day in his life – took me to a public course near the beach, got a bucket of balls and some rentals, and started playing … and playing … and playing. Before long, it consumed all of my free time. Junior golf tournaments, clinics, lessons, camps – all of it.
But this was the late 1990s and early 2000s; golf still wasn’t very cool for little girls. I didn’t know what kind of life opportunities existed with golf beyond playing professionally. I was the only girl on the boys’ team, and I felt like I was standing out for the wrong reasons. Golf became dumb and a time-suck. A bad coach only made it worse. So I quit the team in high school. Sure, my dad and I would still go out every once in a while and compete for our usual prize: a hot dog and Gatorade. It never truly left me. I just didn’t know that when Rodney asked me that question, saying “yes” would change my life more than winning Miss America ever could.
In preparation for the BMW Pro-Am, I dragged my tour manager to courses whenever we had a free day or afternoon in whatever city we were in. I hadn’t played a full 18 holes of golf in a decade, and my game was certainly not what it once was, but it was a pro-am – how difficult could it be?
I don’t think I understood exactly what I had gotten myself into until I turned up at Thornblade Club. The intimidation was real: The celebrities. Only a few other women. The professionals on the range. And – oh yeah – the event was being televised live on Golf Channel.
But it soon dawned on me that week that nobody cared how I played. They were just happy I was there. Golf Channel analysts broke down my swing in slow motion and interviewed me during the telecast, and it was like a lightbulb went off: What if I could pursue something in golf media?
After Greenville, I started getting invited to more and more events. I was asked to host and play in charity tournaments. I started working with golf brands. And, slowly, I fell back in love with the game that I loved so much as a kid. I even started taking regular lessons again.
The end of any Miss America’s year is always bittersweet. It means relinquishing a title that came to define you 24 hours a day for an entire year. But it also means moving on and getting to find yourself post-Miss A – whatever that means.
There’s a saying that Miss Americas often hear that describes the feeling of passing on the crown to the next titleholder – that you can feel the physical warmth of the light shift from you to another, and you’re left in the darkness, looking for what’s next, without Miss A. My answer was golf, and it pulled me from the confusing time of figuring out my identity post-Miss America and helped me build a new life.
It started slowly, building on the Miss America success I had. One day, shortly after leaving Atlantic City – this time without a crown – I got a Twitter DM from Gina Ekmijian, who runs events and experiences for the TGR Foundation. Tiger Woods was hosting his annual Las Vegas fundraiser, Tiger Jam, and they were looking for someone to help host their charity auction. Would I be interested? Sorry – Tiger WOODS? It was a no-brainer, and my first big break in golf since the Pro-Am.
For some reason, Tiger’s foundation staffers seemed more invested in my career growth than even I was. They wasted no time inviting me to their events while giving me media opportunities and the all-important interviewing reps I needed. I began to see golf as more than just a fun way to do one-off gigs as I figured out what was next. Serious golf reporting became the goal.
One day, I got a call from an unknown New Jersey number. On the other end was John Mummert, the USGA’s creative director. He said they had seen my work with Tiger’s foundation, and they were looking for talent to host their digital coverage of the 2018 U.S. Open at Shinnecock. At the time, I was starting to doubt my place in the golf world and was close to giving up; I even considered going to business school. But a few weeks later I was in the Hamptons interviewing Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy. I hadn’t undergone any formal reporting training, and during my time there the USGA gave me a crash course: how to write and present a report, how to interview, how golf media worked. They allowed me the space to learn and nurture relationships that I still depend on in my work today.
While walking through the media compound at the U.S. Open that year, I got another call – this time, from a Golf Channel executive. They were casting for someone to host “Golf Advisor,” a lifestyle and travel show. It was right up my alley and a way to get my foot in the door at Golf Channel.
A few months later, Steve John, the tournament director at Pebble Beach, flashed across my phone. He was calling to see if I wanted to play in the pro-am – THE Pro-Am. That first time playing in the AT&T was life-changing. It got me in the room with people I could never have hoped to meet, allowed me to build on-course credibility with players, golf fans and the decision-makers at Golf Channel – and most importantly, it showed how hard I’d been working on my game since that first pro-am five years prior, as I made the cut alongside Ryan Armour.
The AT&T was a true catalyst moment and eventually led to reporting for Golf Channel for the first time at the 2020 PGA Show in Orlando. I thought I would be off and running after that, but the pandemic thwarted my plans. Thankfully, Miss America is the largest provider of scholarships to women in the world, so during COVID, I applied to and began a master’s degree in specialized journalism at Southern Cal, and Miss America paid for it in full.
A year into the program, Golf Channel called again: They were hiring for a reporter position. Would I be interested?
Just like that day walking off the Miss America stage, I quickly replied: “Yes.”
Last month, I completed my fourth season reporting for Golf Channel and NBC Sports, and I even made my Olympic reporting debut at the Paris Games, flying the golf nest and reporting on sports like water polo, taekwondo, equestrian and trampoline.
Golf is a superpower, and my journey within the game since Miss America is a testament to that. So as I celebrate 10 years since that moment on the stage big enough for a driving range, I also say thank you to the game that helped me find my passion, purpose and identity after the light shifted.
