Scottie Scheffler, with win at the BMW Championship, does something in golf you’re not supposed to do

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[Picture: Kevin C. Cox]

Robert MacIntyre waged a four-hour battle against inevitability. Through 17 holes on the final day, the Scotsman fought despite a wayward driver that repeatedly forced him into scramble mode, watching his four-stroke advantage dissolve into a two-shot deficit. To his credit, MacIntyre kept the outcome uncertain—at least in appearance. But while the competitor in him admirably refused to concede, the thing about fate is it cannot be changed.

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The confirmation came at the 17th. From just off the green in the rough, Scottie Scheffler’s birdie chip sailed over a ridge, tracked toward the pin, and found nothing but the bottom of the cup. Scheffler responded with a subdued fist pump before exchanging high-fives with temporary caddie Mike Cromie. MacIntyre watched in stunned resignation, learning what the past four years have consistently demonstrated: once Scheffler catches your scent, the outcome mostly stops being a question of “if” to “when.”

Scheffler erased a big deficit early, took the reins at the halfway point, held on like hell and delivered an exclamation mark at the end, capturing the BMW Championship for his fifth win of the season.

Sunday was not without drama, though Scheffler initially did his best to eliminate it. He needed just five holes to erase MacIntyre’s four-stroke overnight lead, and by the 11th tee, Scheffler commanded a two-shot advantage—six strokes better than MacIntyre for the day, for those keeping socre at home. But Scheffler, whose putting has transformed from Achilles heel to genuine weapon, missed two makeable putts at the 12th and 14th holes, allowing MacIntyre to creep back into contention. They traded birdies over the next two holes, and with Scheffler facing a difficult lie at the 17th, what we were watching appeared to be in doubt.

Then Scheffler made anyone who harboured doubt realise what we believed to be a contest was … well, sorry for mixing sports analogies, but it was like watching a man trying to beat a brick wall at tennis.

Scheffler’s imposing frame often masks the delicate touch he possesses around the greens, and those powerful hands conjured what appeared to be magic. In reality, it was simply the result of countless hours devoted to a craft that makes such moments seem destined rather than earned.

Another victory for Scheffler, but as always with him, his triumph matters less than how it adds to the expanding masterpiece he continues to create. The absurdity remains striking: less than four months ago, critics questioned whether something was fundamentally wrong with Scheffler. The real question should have been what encore could possibly follow after already touching the heavens. Winning two of the next three majors in commanding fashion preserved those doubts as cautionary tales for future generations. Now the challenge becomes, what is there to say? How can you keep explaining that what everyone expects to happen, this man does?

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That is the ultimate tribute, one that comes from his peers and countless observers who have settled on a single descriptor: inevitable. This isn’t mere hyperbole—it’s acknowledgment of the way things are. Yes, just last week Scheffler missed a playoff by one stroke, but such moments only highlight his dominance rather than diminish it. More often than not, he delivers, which defies golf’s fundamental nature. The sport is too unforgiving and the professional ranks too deep for such consistency to exist. This isn’t mere dominance; it’s a fundamental reimagining of what we thought possible. His body of work since breaking through in winter 2022 invites Tiger Woods comparisons without apology: 14 victories in his last 33 starts, including three majors and Olympic gold.

The parallel extends beyond statistics. Like Woods, Scheffler maintains calculated distance while his performance radiates a display so luminous it becomes mesmerising through sheer force. Scheffler isn’t as remote as Woods was, yet he’s hardly accessible—simply more courteous in his detachment. This politeness once earned him the dreaded “boring” label, but authentic greatness possesses gravitational pull that transcends personality. Throughout 2025, Scheffler has performed entirely on his terms, commanding crowds while preserving his sanctuary. Sunday was more of the same, keeping to himself as he was serenaded with “USA!” chants just weeks away from the Ryder Cup.

Scheffler has long preached a healthy detachment from outcome. For him, this means refusing to allow external validation to define his internal worth, because that path leads not to fulfillment but to psychological destruction. It’s why his impromptu sermon at Royal Portrush struck such a nerve in the golf populace. Yet there are glimpses, like the 17th as he retrieved the ball from the cup, where Scheffler realises what he wants and what those outside the ropes want is one and the same. We witnessed it at Portrush, at Quail Hollow, at Augusta National, at TPC Sawgrass—wherever Scheffler stands victorious, we see the same takeaway. That, while being himself is more than sufficient, sometimes it’s good to surrender to the moment. In that revelation lies inevitability in its purest form.