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The Open at Royal Birkdale will not be won by the prettiest range swing.

It will be won by the tee shot that survives.

Wind off the Irish Sea changes everything. A high draw can hang too long. A bold driver can chase into bunkers. One five yard mistake can turn confidence into a sideways escape.

That is why shot shape matters so much here.

The useful ball is not always loud. It might be a flat squeeze fade. A low chase shot. A controlled cut that starts left, stays under the worst wind and lands without running into disaster. The article’s best point is simple: Birkdale asks power to answer to shape, nerve and ground control.

That is real Open Championship golf.

Not who can hit it farthest.

Elite putters do not suddenly forget how to roll the ball.

Fast major greens just remove the safety net.

One pure stroke starts exactly where it should, then keeps sliding. Past the edge. Past comfort. Past the point where the comeback putt feels easy. That is where the real damage starts.

Not in the hands.

In the head.

The article’s strongest idea is brutal: fast greens test nerve, memory, ego and restraint as much as mechanics. A player can make the right stroke and still choose the wrong speed. That is major championship putting at its cruelest.

The best putters own touch.

The best major putters own patience.

They know when the birdie putt is actually a two putt job. They know when below the hole matters more than closer to the hole. They know the cup is not always the target.

Fast greens do not care about reputation.

They only ask one question:

Jon Rahm can make Doral look small from the tee.

The Blue Monster does not stay small for long.

That is the trap. A big drive can set up the hole, but one missed angle near these greens turns the whole thing into a short game fight. Bermuda rough grabs the club. Bunkers sit heavy. Water waits close enough to make every soft shot feel personal.

Rahm has the strength to attack this place.

But the real test is quieter.

Can he hit the boring chip instead of the heroic one? Can he leave the bunker shot below the hole? Can he take a safe twelve footer when pride wants the flag?

That is what makes the Blue Monster nasty. It lets power start the conversation, then asks touch to finish it.

Rahm does not need to play scared.

Rose Zhang’s ball striking already belongs in major conversations.

Shinnecock will ask for something meaner.

A clean iron can still roll into a hollow. A good miss can still leave a tight lie with the green running away. A safe looking collar can turn one short shot into a whole argument between wedge, putter and pride.

That is where Zhang’s test gets real.

Shinnecock does not only punish reckless golf. It punishes players who almost got it right. The course waits beside the green, in the bunkers, on the firm collars, in those ugly little recovery shots nobody remembers until they decide the week.

Zhang has the calm for it.

Now she needs the hands.

Bryson DeChambeau at St Andrews is the funniest kind of golf argument.

Modern power walks onto the oldest stage and thinks it has found a shortcut.

Then the Old Course starts laughing.

A drive can fly forever and still finish in the wrong place. A bold line can look perfect until the wind shifts. Hell Bunker, the Road Hole and those strange rolling greens do not care how fast the ball leaves the club.

That is what makes Bryson so interesting here.

He has the speed to change the course. But St Andrews does not only ask for speed. It asks for restraint. Putter from off the green. Thirty feet instead of disaster. One boring shot when the crowd wants a movie.

Bryson can bully plenty of places.

Tiger Woods does not need Riviera to introduce itself.

He knows the place too well.

That is what makes the fairway bunkers so cruel. They are not just sand. They are balance tests, stance tests, trust tests. A ball can sit close to the lip, the feet can settle unevenly, and suddenly the shot asks Tiger’s rebuilt body for the exact violence it does not always want to give.

Riviera has always been one of the strange blanks on his résumé. Not because he lacked the imagination. He has all of that. The problem is that this course keeps making imagination physical.

A power fade has to be trusted. A bunker escape has to stay quiet in the legs. A safe line can still leave the wrong angle.

That is Riviera.

It does not care about nostalgia.