How Keegan Bradley fits the Arnold Palmer mold
We photographed Keegan Bradley for this issue’s cover at The Golf Club of New England in Stratham, New Hampshire, two weeks after his PGA Tour win in Hartford. The brawny 7,600-yard track is Bradley’s opposite homebase from Grove XXIII in Jupiter, Florida, and it felt like it. His mom, Kaye, brought the hat he had forgotten, and his wife, Jillian, brought their son Cooper, age 5, to crash the set at the perfect moment.
Bradley was thoughtful and engaging in his interview with Golf Digest senior writer Joel Beall, though he didn’t exactly love our idea to drape an American flag about his shoulders and billow it with an electric fan. To be fair, it was a corny idea and maybe “a bit much” for the U.S. captain ahead of this most anticipated Ryder Cup. With four PGA Tour wins in the past three seasons, Bradley made a serious run at becoming the first playing captain since Arnold Palmer in 1963.
More than an ocean exists between what the Ryder Cup was six decades ago and the extravaganza it has become. One might assume a similar distance between the personalities of Bradley and Palmer. Wasn’t Arnie the gregarious, larger-than-life showman who touched the soul of every person he met on the town, versus Keegs, introverted, introspective, a hotel-and-Netflix modern tour pro?
Yet much more links these two men than the footnote of being the two youngest captains in history (Palmer was 34, Bradley is 39). I think Bradley senses it, too.
“It’s one of my greatest regrets, not meeting him. He was always so nice and outgoing to players, but I just didn’t reach out,” Bradley says, “not necessarily to play golf with him, but just to spend time and hang.” It’s easy to imagine how stories from a childhood in Woodstock, Vermont, might stir memories from one spent in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. The landscapes are barely distinguishable—lush hills dotted with small farms, clapboard houses and people mowing their own yards. Whether from chopping wood or shoveling snow, there’s a certain fierceness of homegrown golf swing that only comes out of the Northeast.
Seeing Bradley interact with his family reminded me of an experience I had earlier this year when I toured Palmer’s office and humble home. Whenever Palmer was flying back from a tournament, the hotshot pilot would “buzz the house” before landing at Latrobe Regional Airport, thus signaling family and friends that cocktail hour was to commence in precisely 15 minutes in the downstairs den. Low-ceiling, plain carpet, a bar and a couch with just enough room for a pool table, the walls full of pictures—it struck me dumb to occupy the very space where The King celebrated wins and nursed losses. Of course, with his loved ones close, they were all wins. As overwhelming and worldwide the duties of captain must seem to Bradley, he knows those pressures melt away in the presence of a specific set of individuals.
Though Bradley never kicked it with Palmer, he has spent considerable quality time with another global sports icon. The number of rounds he’s played with Michael Jordan is countless, both before and after becoming the first PGA Tour ambassador of Jordan brand golf shoes. Of all the tour pros bopping around Jupiter, why did His Airness choose Bradley? Well, Bradley has that rare disposition to treat MJ as just one of the guys.
“Keegan never got caught up in wanting to be famous or be friends with famous people,” says Mike Ballo Jr., who was Bradley’s roommate in a tiny Queens apartment during their days at St. John’s University and is now the head professional at Tamarack Country Club in Greenwich, Connecticut. “He’s been grounded with the same inner circle since college.” A bunch of northeast golfers overlooked by southern schools, their team bond was lasting.
Can Keegan create similar unity among Team USA at Bethpage? If yes, he’ll do so with the everyday steel that doesn’t play games for respect. Leading up, we know he’ll be working hard on his own game in New Hampshire, at a course designed by (who else?) Arnold Palmer.
