U.S. Open 2025: Why the fight to break 90 was the best story at Oakmont
Patrick Smith
OAKMONT, Pa. — The stoic façade finally cracked, surrendering a wry smile as George Duangmanee watched his ball disappear for the final time. On this sleepy afternoon—a day when the course revealed exactly why it carries such a fearsome reputation—group after group had staggered off their final greens wearing expressions of pure hurt mixed with palpable relief that their ordeals were finally through. Which made Duangmanee's final putt a moment of quiet significance. No, it wasn't to make the cut; that hope vanished the day before. The putt wouldn't prevent him from posting Friday’s highest score either. But that subtle smirk spoke volumes without saying anything, proving that despite everything Oakmont Country Club had thrown at him, Duangmanee was still standing.
“I knew it was going to be a hard test coming in, but I didn't think it was going to be this hard,” Duangmanee said under the awning of the Oakmont pro shop. “Just all parts of your game definitely had to be firing.”
You're forgiven for not knowing who George Duangmanee is. The University of Virginia graduate finished his college career strong in 2024, placing 15th at the NCAA Championship before turning pro. He made his PGA Tour debut last month at the Myrtle Beach Classic, where he survived to play the weekend. Mostly, he has labored in relative obscurity, only recently earning status on the PGA Tour Americas.
That's precisely what makes the U.S. Open so compelling—it's right there in the name. This championship doesn't care about your résumé, your ranking or your bank account. If you can navigate 54 holes of qualifying pressure, you earn the right to test yourself against the world's elite on golf's biggest stage. That's what Duangmanee accomplished. He survived a Maryland local qualifier, then traveled to Springfield Country Club in Ohio where he shot rounds of 68-67, outplaying several card-carrying pros to secure his first major championship appearance. He arrived in Pittsburgh with his family and friends in tow—the believers who always knew this moment was possible, even when the rest of the world didn't. While other qualifiers may have captured the pre-tournament headlines, Duangmanee embodies the romantic ideal that beats at the heart of every U.S. Open: that dreams, talent and two perfect days can open doors that seemed permanently locked.
Yet romanticism evaporates when balls take flight Thursday morning, because the U.S. Open is meritocracy incarnate—a ruthless examination of skill, mind and heart. Especially at Oakmont, which seems to take perverse pleasure in exposing vulnerabilities you never knew existed. This venue has no patience for sightseers, which Duangmanee admittedly was. “It's a little bit intimidating being around people you watch on TV every week,” he acknowledged. “I'm trying to learn as much as how they practice, how they warm up and everything.”
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Duangmanee received his education on Day 1, discovering his approach game needed serious refinement. He hemorrhaged more than five strokes to the field in putting on Thursday, never properly calibrating Oakmont's treacherous greens. And it turned out his opening 86 was just the beginning of the lesson. Friday's front nine would have sunk lesser souls: a triple bogey, two doubles and five bogeys counted up to a 47. A double at the 10th raised the uncomfortable question about just how high the damage might climb.
Duangmanee told himself to simply have fun on Friday, so no one could have blamed him for mentally checking out. Instead, the damndest thing happened. Duangmanee responded with defiance, rattling off four pars in the next six holes. The highlight came at the 238-yard par-3 16th, where his approach settled just 15 feet from the pin—one of the day's finest strikes. You couldn't help but notice the gallery had spotted the ominous number beside his name on the walking scoreboard and seemed to be collectively willing him home. Still, breaking 90 remained very much in doubt. Short-game struggles at the 17th yielded another bogey, and an errant drive at the 18th forced him to lay up. His third shot landed well away from the flag and his putt for par rolled seven feet by the hole.
Perhaps it's foolish to become emotionally invested in a professional golfer's quest to break 90. But every golfer understands those dark moments when nothing goes right, when the game reveals its capacity for casual cruelty, when you question why you devote so much of yourself to something so merciless. So to see Duangmanee covert that remaining seven feet … well, it was a reminder that battles can still be won even when the war feels lost. That, sometimes, survival is victory enough.
“Just making it here was a big accomplishment for me,” he said afterwards. “It proves that what I'm doing, the hard work I'm putting in, the practice, it’s paying off. Being able to compete against the best guys in the world, it’s really where I want to be going forward. So I'm really positive about just being here and excited for the confidence I can get from it.”
The young professional needs a break. He's been grinding on the road for the better part of two months, enduring four grueling Q-School rounds immediately after his U.S. Open qualifier just to earn his spot on the PGA Tour Americas. His body aches and home feels distant. Still, he plans to stick around Pittsburgh through the weekend anyway. Why wouldn't he? This is the moment he's chased since childhood—a moment that can take a lifetime to reach and may never come again. That’s the beauty of moments, after all; they are both fleeting and eternal.
Golf Digest senior writer Joel Beall’s debut book, Playing Dirty: Rediscovering Golf's Soul in Scotland in an Age of Sportswashing and Civil War, is on sale now at BackNinePress and all major bookstores.
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