PINEHURST — At 4:32 p.m on Sunday, Rory McIlroy stared down a birdie putt on the 10th hole in the final round of the U.S. Open. This was it, exactly what he’d wanted in recent years, a putt on the back nine at a major to grab a share of the lead. For all his prodigious gifts, he had not given himself enough chances like this during his decade-long drought in majors, but today felt different. He’d started the day trailing Bryson DeChambeau by three strokes, looking like a clear underdog, and now he had a putt to pull even. A difficult putt, just a hair over 26 feet, but a chance. History would remember whatever happened in the next few hours.
I was standing near DeChambeau, a few hundred yards away from the 10th green, when I realized what I wanted to do. I wanted to remember every scene — every moment that I could — for the next two hours. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to watch one of the greatest back nines in the history of the U.S. Open. I didn’t want to choose sides, I wanted to bear witness to whatever unfolded, and scribble it all down for history’s sake.
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Television can’t properly convey what the tension of the back nine of a major feels like. They’re too often showing you shots on tape, then stuffing as many ads in as possible until the story feels like it’s going to suffocate. You’d never know, watching at home, that so much is happening at once, that a roar from the green ahead, or the one behind, can send a message.
It was 4:34 p.m. when McIlroy sent his putt trickling toward the hole. When it dove into the cup, the United States Open was tied at 6-under par. McIlroy gave a subtle fist pump as he walked to retrieve his ball, and a few hundred yards away, DeChambeau took notice.
“I knew what he did based on the roars,” DeChambeau said. “That was actually kind of fun because it gave me the knowledge of what I had to do.”
It was 4:38 p.m. when DeChambeau hit a lay up on the 10th hole. He had driven it right of the fairway yet again, and though he wanted to try and reach the par 5 in two, he knew he couldn’t get there from a dodgy lie. He understood that he did not need to take risks to win, at least not yet. It was McIlroy, in the group ahead, who needed to press.
“Let’s go Bryson!” someone screamed, and DeChambeau nodded as he trudged after his ball.
It was 4:40 p.m when DeChambeau hit a low, spinny pitch toward the 10th green with his third, a shot that checked up inside 5 feet. As he walked to the green, he glanced at the scoreboard, and saw McIlroy’s name listed first, on top of his own. When he went to mark his ball, DeChambeau turned his back as McIlroy uncorked a massive drive toward the 11th fairway, one that came to rest 356 yards away.
“Rory! Rory! Rory!” the fans bellowed, and McIlroy had a bounce in his step as he left the tee box.
It was 4:44 p.m. when DeChambeau rolled in his birdie putt, his first birdie of the day. He did not pump his fist or flex his arms in celebration, he instead tipped his cap and left the green subdued, grateful to have re-taken the lead. As he walked to the 11th tee, he paused when he saw a young man in a motorized wheelchair being escorted around the course by his father. DeChambeau gave him five, then reached into pocket and pulled out a Sharpie. He signed his autograph on the young man’s hat, and high-fived him again before heading to the next tee.
“From my perspective, I’m just passionate,” DeChambeau said, when asked if such gestures toward fans were genuine. “I really care about doing well out here and showing the fans a side of me that was locked up for so long.”
It was 4:46 p.m. when DeChambeau belted his drive from the 11th tee, his body leaning immediately left as if he was trying to guide his ball back into the fairway. His playing partner, Matthieu Pavon, pointed well right, trying to alert the marshall.
“Fore right!” DeChambeau shouted, his shoulders slumping in disappointment.
He turned to his caddie, Gregory Bodine.
“That was a good swing, G-Bo,” DeChambeau said. “Damn. In the hay again.”
He would hit just five fairways on the day, and gain just 0.12 strokes off the tee in Round 4. But as he walked toward his ball, he still clung to a 1-stroke lead.
Up ahead, McIlroy had just hit a mediocre wedge to the back of the green. Only five players in the field on Sunday hit their irons poorer than McIlroy, who lost -1.67 strokes to the field in approach play. But a good lag putt, stopping 9 inches away from 34 feet, helped McIlroy breathe a bit easier.
It was 4:53 p.m. when DeChambeau was ready to hit. He was straddling a wire brush, and unsure of what kind of stance he wanted to take. He wiggled his feet, trying to get comfortable, but nothing felt right. When he finally took a hack at the ball, a cloud of dust exploded at his feet. The ball came out with a weak thud and trundled into the left bunker.
The crowd groaned. He wondered if the U.S. Open was starting to slip from his grasp.
It was 4:56 p.m. when DeChambeau arrived at his ball. He climbed into the bunker, and assessed his lie. It looked daunting. He’d have to fly it more than 30 feet, then get it to check up quickly. When he splashed it toward the pin, his ball checked up but still ran out to 7 feet.
It was 4:57 p.m. when McIlroy hit a wedge to 22 feet on the 12th hole. He did not seem particularly thrilled, but it was safe.
It was 4:59 p.m. when DeChambeau trickled in his par putt. He had to start it well outside the cup, and let gravity take over, but his read was pure, and as he snatched his ball out of the hole, he pumped his fist twice, knowing he’d escaped another pickle from a missed fairway.
“U.S.A.! U.S.A.!” DeChambeau’s fans chanted. “U.S.A.!”
It was 5:01 p.m. when McIlroy rolled in his birdie. There was an eruption of sound, one of the biggest roars of the day, and DeChambeau could hear it from the tee. He knew exactly what it meant.
The U.S. Open was tied yet again, this time at -7 under par.
“I'm like, Oh, man, he's gunning, he's going for it,” DeChambeau said. “So I had to put my foot on the pedal and push down pretty hard, as well.”
It was 5:02 p.m. when DeChambeau hit his drive on 12. It sailed to the right again, a theme for the day. He’s switched driver heads on the range before the round, a decision he’d come to regret.
“I probably shouldn't have changed the heads,” DeChambeau said. “I was trying to get a fresh head in there. It had a good curvature on the face, but it was a little bit lower loft. For whatever reason, those lower lofted heads have been missing right. Consequently I missed it right all day. A bit frustrating, but the face that I was using for the past three days was just starting to get flat.”
His ball ran through a fairway bunker, then came to rest near a clump of thick wiregrass. When he arrived at the ball, he put his hands on his hips in disgust, crouching down low to see if there was any avenue of escape.
It would be impossible, he decided, to advance it to the green.
It was 5:07 p.m. when McIlroy launched a towering drive at the 13th hole, a 316-yard driveable Par 4. It flew the green and bounded off the front of the grandstands, kicking back toward the green.
It was 5:09 p.m. when DeChambeau decided to pitch out to the fairway, a mature decision but one that wasn’t embraced by his fans. A chorus of groans rippled through the crowd, knowing he’d have to get up and down from 76 yards just to save par.
It was 5:11 p.m., when he lofted his third shot toward the green, only to watch it come up well short of where he wanted. He’d need to make a 22-footer to avoid a bogey.
It was 5:12 p.m. when McIlroy sent a low running chip toward the flagstick, then watched it run out a bit too much for comfort. It settled 3 feet behind the flag. He’d have that putt to take back the lead.
It was 5:15 p.m. when DeChambeau gently stroked his par putt, but it never had a chance, missing well to the right. For just the second time all day, he’d made a bogey, and now he was in serious trouble of letting the championship slip from his grasp. A few meek “U.S.A” chants rippled through the crowd, but they quickly died down as DeChambeau walked to the 13th tee.
It was 5:16 p.m. when DeChambe