FARMINGDALE, N.Y. — There are moments that you wish, in hindsight, someone had thought to take a picture. Here’s one: It was nine years ago, a random Saturday afternoon in Abu Dhabi.
Bryson DeChambeau was 22. The reigning NCAA and U.S. Amateur champion was biding his time to turn pro and was racking up invitations to various pro tournaments. One was that week’s HSBC Championship, a European Tour event. DeChambeau got off to a helluva start, shooting an opening 64 (what he later told reporters was his “B game”) to take the early tournament lead. By Saturday, he was slotted in the final group for the tournament’s third round.
Rory McIlroy was 26. He was the newest face of golf — broad shoulders, Irish cheeks, four major championship wins. McIlroy opened his 2016 season in Abu Dhabi, living the life of the megawatt international superstar. At 8-under after two rounds, he, too, landed in Saturday’s final grouping.
That’s where they first met. On the practice green, Young DeChambeau approached Slightly Older McIlroy, removed his flat cap, extended a hand, and, according to Associated Press writer Steve Douglas, beamed: “I’m Bryson, nice to meet you.” The two shook hands before setting off to the first hole, where, as their names were announced, DeChambeau applauded McIlroy’s introduction.
A lot has happened since, so much so that this snapshot in time should stand as the origin story of modern golf’s great rivalry.
If only we could be so lucky.
If only they collide more and more, test each other more and more, lean into it more and more.
If only something brings their duel to the next level.
Like, maybe a Ryder Cup. One played in New York. One played in front of more than 50,000 flag-waving fans. One coming two years after Europe humiliated the U.S. team at Marco Simone, back when DeChambeau was left off the American team, and McIlroy declared that the Europeans fully intended to achieve one of golf’s “biggest accomplishments” by winning an away Ryder Cup at Bethpage in 2025.
Bryson DeChambeau is the star of this American team. (Jared C. Tilton / Getty Images)
You don’t need to squint to see all the pieces in place. From Jones vs. Hagen, to Arnie versus Jack, to Tiger versus Phil, professional golf, as a product, is better with rivalries. The stuff that exists as singular subplots to every story. So why not this? Rory versus Bryson. Bryson versus Rory.
Their divergent paths stem from professional golf’s great divide, when McIlroy was the forward-facing custodian of the PGA Tour’s claim of eminent domain, and DeChambeau emerged as the long-hitting, convention-breaking coverboy of LIV Golf’s dissension. In the time since, there have been verbal jabs. Pokes here. Pokes there. More importantly, there was the 2024 U.S. Open at Pinehurst, when DeChambeau capitalized on what felt like an epochal collapse by McIlroy to steal a win. Then there was the 2025 Masters, when McIlroy, in a final pairing with DeChambeau, vanquished an army of demons to win the green jacket and complete the career Grand Slam.
Soon after, DeChambeau revealed that McIlroy never uttered a single word to him during their round.
“I don’t know what he was expecting,” McIlroy said later.
In May, DeChambeau was asked by a young fan at a First Tee event if “you have a beef with Rory McIlroy.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily a beef,” DeChambeau responded. “Do I like everything he does all the time? No. I’m sure he doesn’t like all the things I do, right? We’re professionals, we’re competitive. … But I respect him as a golfer.”
In the lead-up to Bethpage, DeChambeau told People Magazine, “I’ll be chirping in McIlroy’s ear this time. If we go up against each other, you can be sure of it.”
McIlroy responded by telling The Guardian: “To get attention, he will mention me or Scottie (Scheffler) or others.”
While both have been tangled with opposing players before — McIlroy versus Patrick Reed, DeChambeau versus Brooks Koepka — this is decidedly different. Both stand near the top of the sport. Both have gotten the best of the other in major championship competition. Both clearly dislike each other.
Now it’s the Ryder Cup, where it’s said that everything matters more, and where, despite having played in two previous cups opposite each other, McIlroy and DeChambeau have never gone head to head. Put all together, and a distinct feeling can start to take shape. Call it the prologue to a powderkeg.
That is, if they meet.
Friday’s morning session will send DeChambeau out with Justin Thomas for an alternate shot match against Jon Rahm and Tyrrell Hatton, while McIlroy teams with Tommy Fleetwood against Collin Morikawa and Harris English.
Rory McIlroy is the elder statesman of the European team. (Carl Recine / Getty Images)
Maybe the matchup will come in Friday afternoon fourball, with President Trump in the front row, and all matters of fervor in the air, from intense anticipation to wild jingoism. Maybe it will come sometime Saturday. Or maybe in a head-to-head singles match Sunday, a scene that’d rival any of the day’s biggest NFL games.
Showing varying levels of restraint, neither McIlroy nor DeChambeau has offered up much chum this week. Both sat for news conferences Friday. McIlroy responded to a question about Bryson with what amounted to a manmade muzzle. “I promised (European captain Luke Donald) I would only talk about the European Team today,” he said. “I’m going to stick to it.”
A laugh followed, but the room wanted more. McIlroy didn’t oblige.
“It’s so easy to play into narratives this week and to get swept up in rivalries and Ryder Cup and whatever it is,” he continued. “All I want to do is go and try to put blue points on the board. I don’t care who it’s against.”
DeChambeau at least acknowledged “rivalries are good for the game of golf” and asked himself rhetorically, “Would I love to go up against him?” before answering, “Yeah,” but similarly downplayed the underlying mano a mano element in golf’s greatest team event.
“I have the ultimate respect for Rory,” DeChambeau said, drawing a long breath and a clear pause, “as a player.”
Leaving the interview tent, DeChambeau walked across a practice green toward fans pressed against a fence line waving hats and flags, pleading for autographs. He grabbed a Sharpie and started signing one item after another. After a few minutes, one voice from the crowd piped up, telling DeChambeau that he was spending more time signing than McIlroy had earlier in the day.
The crowd laughed. DeChambeau smiled. Then he kept signing.
(Top photo of Bryson DeChambeau, left, and Rory McIlroy: Richard Heathcote / Getty Images)