Inside Garrick Higgo’s strange (and expensive) PGA Championship

NEWTOWN SQUARE, Pa. — Garrick Higgo, a 27-year-old golfer from South Africa, is about as cold as a golfer can be. But early Thursday morning, in the cold air out here in the affluent neighborhood of Philadelphia, a sick feeling came over him. Higgo was at the Aronimink Golf Club putting green, hard next to the clubhouse and about 15 feet above the course’s highest first tee, when the starter said these words:

“From Memphis, Tenn., 2003 PGA Championship winner, Shaun Michele.”

The first player in Higgo’s threesome was called off the tee, and Higgo’s two-shot penalty had begun. Rule 5.3a.

Everything else is analytical.

From below, Higgo could hear his American friend quickly shouting, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

It didn’t matter.

Garrick Higgo was late. Not fashionably late. Two shots later. He came down the hill, wearing a sweater on his large frame, carrying a broomstick.

He is a big man, listed as six feet, about 200 pounds, with oak legs and a thick waist. Higgo knew, as professionals always do, who they were playing Thursday-Friday. This time, Shaun Michel, now 57, and Michael Brennan, the former Wake Forest golfer who won on Tour last year. They were on their fourth tee off of the day, and their tee time was 7:18 a.m. When Higgo arrived, it was 7:19.

Before that, the day was unusual, if you can call any day you play in a major tournament unusual. This is Higgo’s eighth major.

He arrived at the course just before sunrise, which was 5:46 Thursday morning. His card, Austin Gaugert, was already there. Higgo saw his physiotherapist. He went to the gym. The morning was cold, still and damp. He walked to the range, on the east side of Aronimink’s large, English-style clubhouse. He went to the short game practice area, north of the clubhouse.

Gaugert, a tall and lanky Wisconsinite, handed Higgo his putter, put the practice club in Higgo’s locker in the clubhouse and headed to the tee. Higgo went to a small practice putting green on the south side of the clubhouse; she was laying and hanging and worrying about nothing but warmth when Michel’s name was called. Maybe he didn’t hear it, but he heard his caddy calling him. There were caddies and players and coaches all over the green. 7:30 tee time, 7:42 tee time. Championship golf is a show and a march. Someone took out the phone. It was 7:19. Higgo was told of his two shot penalty as soon as he got to the tee.

Higgo became the champion in 2019. He played and won all over the world. You know the drill. Under normal circumstances, in the majors and on the PGA Tour, the team’s first player is called to the tee at the team’s exact time. Players need to be on the tee, club in hand, at that time. Penalty for absence – on tee, club and ball in hand – two shots.

It doesn’t matter if your delay doesn’t lead to a playback delay.

It doesn’t matter if, in the playing order, you are first or second or third.

It doesn’t matter if there are extenuating circumstances. In other words, there are no extenuating circumstances.

You can read the exact language in the USGA rulebook. Everything is written down. If you are more than five minutes late, you are not eligible. A PGA official told Higgo he was getting two penalties before Higgo hit his first shot on the 430-yard par-4. He drove it down the fairway, got behind the green and two-putted for a 4-under par. He was two to 1 years old. He was under 18 years old. Thirty five, 34 out of 69 strong.

Returning to morning events with reporters after his round, Higgo’s mind was not the picture of clarity. Higgo didn’t seem to notice that Michelle had been called to the tee. He described meeting PGA of America officials when he entered.

“I was just trying to find evidence – I feel like any of you would have done the same,” he said. “I was on time, but the law says you’re one second late, so if you think about it, I was on time, if you know what I mean.”

Not completely.

He was given his score card and informed of his penalty. He gave his card to his driver. “I just focused on what I had to do,” Higgo said. “I mean, I wasn’t going to stop and shoot 80.”

Higgo thinks of Ernie Els as an uncle and Gary Player as a grandfather. In 2018, during UNLV’s spring break, Higgo sat down with Els in South Florida and told him he was uncomfortable with the party environment at UNLV. He is a devout Christian and, although he looks like a water runner in the Jeff Spicoli tradition, he is not. Els told Higgo that he was old enough, and his game was mature enough, to be a pro. Higgo turned pro the following year. He won the Portuguese Open the following year.

On Thursday, Els had new advice for her partner.

“A child should be on the tarmac five minutes before their time,” Els said in a text. “End of story. You can argue until you’re blue in the face. But even every junior golfer knows that.”

It didn’t take long before Higgo’s two penalties became the talk of the town between players and caddies. Some wondered if the two-shot penalty was too extreme, meaning that one shot might be enough of a deterrent.

“I don’t know what the penalty should be, but you have to have something,” said Brooks Koepka.

“Two is the worst, but it didn’t happen often, maybe two is the right number,” said Ludwig Aberg.

In his long career, Jack Nicklaus has never been late for a tee time. He never failed to count his clubs on the first tee. He never signed a wrong score card. The first area of ​​championship golf is a measure of discipline, and compliance with the rules of the game.

“It’s the law,” Higgo said plainly. “And I broke the law.”