Scott Gregory shot 92 at 2018 U.S. Open and hit rock bottom, now he’s finally picking up the pieces

Scott Gregory crested the hill that separates Shinnecock Hills Golf Club’s practice range from the first tee. The renowned Stanford White-designed clubhouse flanked his right side. The first hole dotted his left. Far in the distance, the iconic windmill from nearby National Golf Links of America spun through another blustery day of conditions in the Hamptons. The golfing haven at Shinnecock sprawled below him.

This spot is a slice of American golfing royalty – one of the country’s most prestigious courses hosting its most prestigious championship, the U.S. Open.

Gregory was its jester.

The hundreds of spectators who had gathered around the first tee weren’t there to cheer. They were there to gawk. To snicker, even, at the lowest moment of Gregory’s life. That’s how it felt, anyway. Cruel. Targeted.

“To me, they were there because I'd had a bad round the day before and they wanted to enjoy someone struggling,” Gregory said. “I think that's probably the first time that ... my ... I think my motivation and self-worth changed quite a bit.”

What do you do when your worldview shifts in an instant? When why you do what you do held one meaning your entire life, and suddenly it’s completely different?

For 22 years, Gregory’s life revolved around a noble pursuit: Seeing how far golf could take him and how good he could be. It brought him to The Amateur Championship and a breakthrough victory. He made it to The Open Championship and the Masters. Into practice rounds with his idol, Justin Rose, and conversations with Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus. He did well enough to turn professional and make it through final qualifying for the 2018 U.S. Open.

One round flipped everything.

A brutal 92 in the first round at Shinnecock corroded his self-belief, spurred a lengthy bout of driver yips, shifted his purpose and sent his career spiraling. He made a heel turn from the happy-go-lucky kid in it for the joy of the journey to someone motivated by something darker that awoke as he reached Shinnecock’s first tee.

Gregory, now 31, suppressed it for years. A little more than three years later, he was out of pro golf and out of love with the game. Shinnecock was the black hole he couldn’t escape. The round was the only thing most wanted to talk about. He was reminded weekly on social media. Any success that came after was couched in the pretext of one terrible afternoon that wouldn’t go away. Any failure was an indictment. He declined every interview request that came through.

“I lost my brain and my technique in one week and never really got it back,” Gregory said. “Up until now, I've not really felt in a position where I can talk about it and not be affected by it.”

In the spare bedroom of Gregory’s Southampton home in England, remnants of the past are on display. His prized golfing possessions are scattered across a desk. Two crystal Masters glasses from the two eagles he made in his lone start at Augusta National in 2017. His medal from The Amateur Championship in 2016. A picture with Jack Nicklaus from the Memorial Tournament presented by Workday in 2017, the only non-major TOUR event he played. A smattering of other trophies from English competitions of his youth.

There’s also a photo of Gregory and Tiger Woods from Shinnecock Hills. It’s one of the few things from that week that Gregory could bring himself to save and cherish.

Gregory grew up in a modest and sporty home. His mother was a nurse and an avid marathon runner. His father was an engineer and a black belt in karate. Gregory started golfing at age 6, the same year Woods completed the Tiger Slam. Gregory and his father, an avid recreational golfer, routinely watched PGA TOUR golf and Woods’ domination in primetime in England. His love sprouted from there.

Gregory’s own game quickly excelled. The family joined Corhampton Golf Club in Southampton, so he had adequate practice facilities. At age 12, Gregory began playing in county competitions. He stayed in England after high school, far more motivated to remain and play for his country in prestigious amateur competitions than to play college golf in the U.S. He worked evenings at a local driving range to fund his pursuit, playing in as many tournaments as his gas fund would allow.

Gregory was runner-up at the 2014 English Amateur as a 20-year-old. He finished runner-up again at the 2016 Spanish Amateur to Romain Langasque, who, less than a year earlier, won The Amateur Championship, the most prestigious amateur event in Europe.

Gregory’s breakthrough came at The Amateur at Royal Porthcawl the next year. He breezed through stroke-play qualifying, then took down future pros Harry Hall and Adrian Meronk to reach the title match and his stiffest competition yet: 19-year-old Scot Robert MacIntyre.

The two dueled all afternoon, the lead changing hands multiple times on the final 18 holes. Gregory nudged ahead on the 30th hole and held the lead with a series of highlight-reel up-and-downs for a 2-and-1 victory and the biggest moment of his life. MacIntyre would later call Gregory the best bunker player he had ever seen.

The win opened many doors. Gregory played in The Open two weeks later and the Masters and the U.S. Open at Erin Hills the following year. He stayed amateur long enough to play for Great Britain and Ireland at the Walker Cup and was one of only two players with a winning record in an otherwise tough loss to the U.S.

Gregory quickly turned professional and nabbed a top 10 in one of his first starts on the HotelPlanner Tour (Europe’s version of the Korn Ferry Tour) late in 2017. Everything was progressing nicely.

The new year brought different results. Gregory missed his first few cuts, then injured his left wrist shortly before U.S. Open final qualifying. He didn’t play a practice round for the qualifier, unable to reach the top of the swing without shooting pain down his arm. But he had already used an exemption to get into Final Qualifying. So he showed up, didn’t hit a single range ball and played. Miraculously, he made it through.

“I felt terrible,” he said.

That form was only temporary. He played one more event in Europe and missed the cut before heading stateside, the wrist pain forcing him to change his swing to compensate. The only way he could swing comfortably was to be laid off at the top, bow his wrist to take the pressure off, and “see what happens.”

He sprayed it around Shinnecock in practice rounds Monday and Tuesday, so much so that he didn’t play the course Wednesday.

“I lost so many golf balls and hit it in so many places I didn’t want to hit it, I was just trying to get it under control,” Gregory said. “That’s the first time I’d ever walked off a practice round and didn’t know how I was going to get it around.

“I remember going into it Wednesday night, going to bed thinking, this is not the place to be not driving it straight.”

Gregory couldn’t put his phone down. The hours after it happened are a blur as he recalls them now. He hazily remembers a range session once the deed was done, searching for any bit of reprieve. He went to a friend's rental house in the evening. They went paddleboarding and barbecued. Gregory couldn’t unplug. His phone lit up with social media messages, overwhelmingly negative. That’s what it felt like, anyway. He remembers a particular post that some photoshopped him into a trash can, and there were countless others. He sent out a playful response, “Tough day today @usopengolf well very tough... enjoying the stick I'm receiving and looking forward to playing well tomorrow... #GolflsHard.”

It hurt more than Gregory led on. He played back every swing from the round as he lay in bed later. The particulars were rather uneventful. He lipped out a birdie on the 10th, his first hole of the day, after two perfect swings. He thought maybe all was OK. He made bogey on the 11th, but who wouldn’t? The devilish par 3 proved diabolical for the whole field. Gregory, for a moment, thought he could hang. Then he hit the “biggest hook of my life” off the 12th tee. And on the 13th, he hit it dead in the opposite direction. Gregory was done from there. He made two triple-bogeys, three double-bogeys, 10 bogeys and just three pars en route to 22-over 92.

He couldn’t sleep that night. He read every comment. He recalled the horde of fans who asked for his autograph afterward. His mind was scrambled. He thought they were pulling a demented joke.

“I didn’t know if they were doing it to take the piss out of me,” Gregory said. “If I was watching, I probably wouldn’t get the autograph of the guy who shot 90-odd in the U.S. Open.”

It festered into an explosive cocktail of negativity that he carried with him far longer than he hoped. He first felt it as he surveyed the scene at Shinnecock’s second round on Friday. He shot 75 that day, committed to hitting a big slice to eliminate one side of the golf course. It was a success, given the circumstances. A respectable showing after the most embarrassing round of his life. It wasn’t fulfilling. The negative comments continued.

So did the self-doubt.

He returned to Europe and missed his next three cuts. Remarkably, he made it through DP World Tour Q-School that fall and earned his card for the first time. A dream come true, but one that was rooted in a rotted foundation.

“I've done it to prove people wrong, not for me to try and get there. It just meant every time someone made a negative comment, now I was trying to do it to prove that wrong,” he said. “Which only works at certain points, and then you're, like, my self-worth is based on what everyone else thinks for me, not what I think myself.”

He posted on social media after earning his card, “For the people who said I should learn my trade at the Tower Bridge. I'll learn it on the European Tour if that's okay?”

The satisfaction was fleeting, requiring results to justify the retorts. There was no internal validation in the pursuit of improvement.

After that momentary high, Gregory missed his next 13 cuts. He made one cut in the entire 2019 DP World Tour season, and in October of that year, he withdrew from the Spanish Open after struggling to pull the trigger on multiple tee shots. His mental issues had led to the driver yips that he said began on that Thursday at Shinnecock.

Gregory bounced back well when he returned to the HotelPlanner Tour in 2020. He made six of eight cuts and kept his card for the next year. But he could sense he wasn’t playing confidently, still letting things get to him when they shouldn’t have. He reverted to his old ways in 2021, missing 15 of 18 cuts and quickly falling off the pro circuit.

“I had completely fallen out of love with the game,” he said.

Gregory found a quiet spot in the Corhampton clubhouse and took a seat. The inquiry first came via Instagram direct message, asking whether he would be willing to talk about his experience at Shinnecock.

“It’s a tournament I don’t talk about much as it had a huge negative effect on my mental well-being and self-belief,” his response began, “however, I’ve done a lot of work on it and think talking about it could help me.”

By the time we linked up a few weeks later, just past 1 p.m. local time in Southampton, Gregory had already wrapped a shift at the club where he grew up learning the game and had found a quiet nook in the clubhouse to chat. For a while, he was uncertain he could get back to this point – personally or professionally.

Since Shinnecock, Gregory says he has spoken to “probably 10” different sports psychologists. They all gave him a helpful tip or two, but nothing that ever worked in the long term. The breakthrough came once he retreated from professional golf. He sought out the help of a trauma therapist. Gregory is the first to avoid equating what happened to him with the typical “trauma” the therapist helps with, but the same principles apply. It wasn’t a car accident or a death, but what Gregory went through was incredibly traumatic.

Through the therapy, Gregory has been able to detach himself from the emotions of Shinnecock. He talks with the therapist monthly, working on setting good goals, mindfulness routines and positive self-talk. A lot of their discussions are still about golf, but they also talk about everyday life issues and how to flip negatives into positives.

“If I had met this guy eight years ago, probably the plan of action would have been quite different, and I might have had a different outcome,” Gregory says, not with regret but with curiosity, “but there's not much I can do about it now.”

His mental rebound also coincides with a new purpose. When Gregory returned to Southampton, he was unsure what he would do next. Could he even stay in golf? It’s all he’s ever known. Ian Roper, the head professional at Corhampton, suggested he should try to become a fellow PGA pro. Gregory was reticent at first. He never envisioned teaching, but he saw an avenue to stay in the sport, spend his days in the comfort of the place he grew up, and continue working on his game.

Quickly, the lessons became another type of therapy. His hardened golf heart began to soften as he witnessed and nurtured others' improvement. Seeing the enthusiasm on the faces of juniors became “infectious.” Gregory’s Instagram feed is lined with his clients, often quality juniors trying to rise the ranks just like Gregory did. They ask him about his experiences, Shinnecock and all, and he can joke about them.

“People say, ‘Oh, you played in four majors and I say, ‘No, I played in three. I took part in the other one,” Gregory laughs.

When Masters week comes around, he gets questions about his eagle at the par-5 second and the experience of playing Augusta National. And when he would previously shudder and become envious that he’s not there competing, now he’s a willing storyteller.

“I love it and I didn’t think I would,” he said. “The PGA qualification saved me as a golfer... It’s probably the best thing I’ve done.”

Gregory passed his final PGA training exam late last month. He’s become an advocate for others to try it, especially if they’ve gone through anything similar to what he went through.

“Obviously, I had a very bad experience at Shinnecock, and someone else might. They might not, but someone else might, and it might be helpful for them to hear what I’ve said and know what kind of route they could go down after it,” Gregory explained. “And maybe some of the things that I've done since, they can then not do or do, like speak to the right people and stay true to their own identity.”

Gregory continues to follow his own words. He has returned to competitive golf, competing mostly in local PGA tournaments. His childhood demeanor and edict have returned, playing to see how far his talent can take him and the joy that brings.

“I've achieved a lot as an amateur, and I've done some cool things as a pro. I've played in majors. If you'd have offered me that when I was 12, 13, I'd have been pretty chuffed with that,” Gregory said. “So, I don't think there's any regret about anything I've done.
I just feel like I need to make sure that whatever I do for now, that I'm doing it for the right reason. And that I just didn't make sure I enjoy it, I never want to fall out of love with the game again.”

He’s open to any possibility. He would love to play the PGA Cup, a biennial Ryder Cup-style tournament between club pros from Great Britain and Ireland and the U.S. He would love to qualify for another Open Championship. Or maybe, even, another U.S. Open. Will he watch this year’s?

“I’m not sure,” Gregory said, pausing.