The morning had been too beautiful for angst. A perfect day stretched across the near-perfect course, the forever blue of the Irish Sea painting an idyllic backdrop. Perhaps it was too early for distress, with two days of wind and rain and the vagaries that make links golf so maddeningly intoxicating still to come.
Yet beneath the surface an undercurrent of unease rippled through the gallery at Royal Portrush, and as Brian Harman approached the final holes, black clouds began their ominous tumble across the sky—a flourish that seemed almost too perfectly timed. The crowd, spirited but educated, understood what was unfolding before them: The Butcher of Hoylake had returned.
That would be Brian Harman, the 2023 Champion Golfer of the Year who has positioned himself to claim the title once again. His six-under 65 on Friday seized The Open clubhouse lead, and with it, the collective anxiety of everyone who remembers what happened the last time he held this position on a weekend.
“Got off to a good start, picked my spots really nice, hit some good iron shots,” Harman said Friday afternoon. “I feel really comfortable over here. I’m comfortable driving it. I don’t know. They’re very different golf courses, but the golf is similar. You’ve got to be able to flight your golf ball. You’ve got to know how far everything’s going. Then you can’t get frustrated. Like you’re going to get bad breaks, you’re going to end up in funny spots where it doesn’t seem fair, and you just have to kind of outlast that stuff.”
Brian Harman holds the claret jug while celebrating winning the 2023 Open. Jared C. Tilton
Despite his pedigree, Harman’s day is something of a surprise. Though he captured a victory this past spring in the Valero Texas Open and entered the week ranked 26th in the world, his recent form has been patchy at best. He sits 83rd in strokes gained for the year, with only one top-40 finish—an eighth place at the Travelers Championship—across his last seven starts. His major championship record since lifting the claret jug tells a similar story of struggle, with no finish better than T-21 in seven subsequent outings.
But links golf operates by different rules than the manicured courses of America, and Harman possesses the exact arsenal needed to conquer its challenges. His short game wizardry, creativity along the ground, and ability to keep the ball below the wind create a perfect mixture for links success.
“There’s probably 10 different types of clubs, irons, drivers, woods that you can hit off the tee,” Harman explained. “There’s different ways to attack into the green, and there’s almost always a hill that will kind of kill a shot coming into the green. You can kind of do it your own way.”
That philosophy translated into precision. Harman ranked first in approach play, gaining nearly four strokes on the field through his second shots alone—a masterclass in the kind of creative shot-making that separates links specialists from mere ball-strikers. That is slightly different from what transpired just two years ago, as Harman delivered a tour de force performance at Royal Liverpool by holing nearly 450 feet of putts and gaining 11 shots on the field in strokes gained/putting to win the claret jug by a whopping six shots.
Yet Harman’s Hoylake triumph carried two other defining storylines. His final 36 holes unfolded before a partisan, occasionally hostile crowd—the price of battling Englishman Tommy Fleetwood and Euro star Rory McIlroy while bearing a name absent from golf’s pantheon of Woods, McIlroy, Hagen and Jones. He endured taunts about his stature, his mettle and his worthiness as fans questioned whether the leaders would chase him down. Harman answered with relentless resolve, systematically draining the life from those who opposed him.
The second storyline emerged from British tabloids’ fixation on his hunting passion, a manufactured controversy that threatened to overshadow his moment of triumph. Harman’s then status—too successful to be dismissed as a journeyman, yet nowhere near stardom—occupied that vulnerable space where players are recognised but not truly known. When such golfers enter the spotlight, minor details become defining characteristics. Harman’s dominant display at Hoylake had drained the drama from the championship itself. As he sank putt after putt while competitors wilted in the rain and pressure, the tabloids hunted for conflict elsewhere.
They found it in his social media, mining videos and photos of hunting expeditions and trophy poses. Combined with his press conference remarks, this created their narrative. To be fair, hunting carries greater stigma in Europe than America, and Britain’s complicated relationship with gun culture amplified the controversy. But during the weekend that crowned his career, Harman fielded as many questions about hunting as golf—a circus that could have derailed his pursuit of a first major title if it wasn’t for his ability to defuse the issue.
This time, the hunting controversy appears defanged—Harman faced just one such question after his round Friday. The crowd presents a different challenge entirely. While Friday’s gallery received him warmly during his charge, and his Open champion status now commands respect that didn’t exist at Hoylake, Harman stands squarely in the path of local favourites. Robert MacIntyre, Matt Fitzpatrick, Tyrrell Hatton, and a certain Ulsterman who just completed the career Grand Slam all lurk within striking distance. This boisterous Portrush congregation wants to witness history—just not with Harman holding the pen.
He remains unmoved by the theatre surrounding him. “I’ll approach the weekend the same way [as ’23],” Harman said. “The only thing I’m really worried about is the first tee ball tomorrow, and then I’ll try to hit the next one up there close to the flag. If not, go to the second hole. It’s a very boring approach that I take. I’m not trying to be heroic or do anything crazy. I know that I’ve got the game to do it, and it’s just a matter of executing and staying in my own head.
