Fans always focus on the glossy end of a leaderboard—victories, trophies—but stories from the hardscrabble end of things, where blood vessels pop more frequently than flashbulbs, are often just as compelling. If the adage that it’s lonely at the top is true, the bottom can be downright bleak.
While all eyes were on the WGC Dell Technologies Match Play in Austin, the PGA Tour’s foot soldiers—the best of the rest—were in the Dominican Republic for the Corales Puntacana Championship. Parker McLachlin teed off early in the first round on Thursday, facing a heavy wind, and was 2-over par after eight holes.
He told me Saturday morning from the bleachers of a Scottsdale stadium, where he was watching his 8-year-old son’s season-opening game. “I felt like I was hanging in.”
McLachlin thought his tee shot on the 9th hole, No. 18 on the course, cleared the inlet to reach dry land. He returned to the tee after finding it in the hazard. Wet from a terrible second attempt, a rules officer returned down the fairway to retrieve another ball from his caddie. His third try got off to a good start, finding the rocks and rolling into the water. The official left once more. McLachlin made four with his fourth ball and carded a ten on the hole for a total of 87 on the day.
“To be honest, it’s humiliating,” he admitted. “The gang in front of you is approaching, and you’re launching ball after ball into the ocean.” The reoccurring plantar fasciitis in his right foot flared up during his warm-up before the second round, making it impossible for him to press to his left side. He WD’d, but he’s not going to use it as an excuse: “Before my foot started aching, I played poorly.”
McLachlin has won on the PGA Tour before, with a seven-shot triumph in the Reno-Tahoe Open in 2008. At 42, the memory is fading—only he’s made 5 cuts in 31 starts dating back to 2018—but there’s still reason to believe he can be that good again.
He performed in Mexico a week before heading to the Dominican Republic. He stated, “I hit it the best I’ve ever hit it in my life.” “I went from five under to ten without blinking.”
His voice faded away.
“I never know what I’ll get from day to day.” He ultimately said, “My swing was never the nicest, but I just knew I was going to get the ball in the hole.” “Going from that to not knowing where the ball is going to go and feeling anxious makes for a stressful round of golf.”
Because of his reputation for short-game skill, McLachlin is now more of a teacher than a contender on a daily basis. (On the front nine, he only hit one green in regulation in the final round of his victory, but he shot even par.) He works with PGA and LPGA tour players and is in high demand for clinics. He admits that teaching has taken over part of the pleasure that scorecards originally provided. He said, “I get a sense of delight out of assisting people.”
Self-help is a very different challenge.
His first of three starts this year came in the Sony Open in Honolulu, where he grew up. McLachlin awoke at 3 a.m. on the morning of the first round.
“In my thoughts, all I could see was poor shot after bad shot.” “All I see is train disaster after train wreck for the next two hours till my alarm went off,” he added. “It’s a strange position to be, given that it’s something I used to be incredibly excellent at, and that I do in front of tens of thousands of people and television cameras.”
Even for the finest golfers in the world, the border between bliss and sorrow is razor-thin. McLachlin quoted Max Homa as saying that every Tour player is one good swing away from believing he can win the Masters and one bad swing away from quitting. “For me, it’s always been the golf swing,” he explained. “I used to believe in myself, but as I became more technical, my belief in impact faded.”
McLachlin returned home on Friday, defeated but undefeated. “It’s nice to talk about it,” he continued, “just get it out so it doesn’t fester.” “There have been professionals who have dealt with this, as well as amateurs who wish to get greater enjoyment out of the game.” It’s something with which we can all empathize.”
“I have no idea,” he answered when asked when his next competition will be. With a young family and a booming teaching company, McLachlin can expect a couple of Tour starts each season, but the drive to pursue Monday qualifiers and mini-tours isn’t there.
“I’ll most likely participate in one event this summer.” “Perhaps one thing will click, and I’ll be as confident as I’ve ever been,” he remarked, his optimism real. “I don’t think it’s that far away,” says the narrator. It isn’t there right now, but it isn’t far away. It’s how we all feel on the deepest level.”
