AUBURN, Scotland — You are born into a world of wonders, walk out the back door of your home, the greenkeeper’s house, and look up at the mountainous 12th fairway, hoping to one day climb it. You walk into town and gaze into the horseshoe-shaped Oban Bay, protected by the mounds of Kerera Island, not far from the Isle of Mull. Awe is your norm. Beauty is your foundation. So, no matter how high your status, no matter how talented you are, it just doesn’t feel right to take you to every corner of the world and provide you with a luxurious lifestyle and incredible opportunities. You long for normalcy. Your normal.
You won tournaments in Cyprus and Italy. You play in the Ryder Cup. You played on the PGA Tour. Great games take you places, and moving to Florida to commit to your future felt like the right fit. There comes a time in many people’s lives when you must choose whether home is who you are or whether home is what drives you to reach your potential.
You will compete for the PGA Championship. Two weeks later, you won your first PGA Tour event. Your life is becoming everything you dreamed of.
But you are not happy.
You yearn for the clubhouse at Glencruiten Golf Club, a cozy one-storey shack in Oban where reporters walked in to find eight people leaning on a semicircle of chairs, pints in hand at midday on a Tuesday , looked up and smiled when they were asked if they knew Bob McIntyre.
“Who is Bob?” a white-haired man asked with a straight face.
Bob McIntyre. The pride of Scottish golf. The 27-year-old southpaw is developing into one of the best golfers in the world.
“Who is he?” the man asked again.
Neil Armor stared at him until he pulled out his phone, which already contained a photo of a boyish, good-natured McIntyre sitting in the royal box at Wimbledon the day before, wearing a tailored fashion suit Suit. They smiled and held out the phone, just like dear friends and family would do when they humiliate a successful member of their tribe. Yes, they know McIntyre too well. The men had watched greenkeeper Dougie’s son Bob grow up at Glencruitten. They watched him learn the game “like a kid,” playing the back four holes at Glencruiten on the other side of the road, in a constant cycle, until Dougie felt he was ready for a break. They watched him hit a hole-in-one at age 12 and win the local junior championship four years in a row. They drove him to games and some provided financial assistance when necessary. They played with him on the Auburn Celtics and clamored for scones from his mother, Carol.
“Yeah, he’s a great boy,” Neal McDougall said. “Down to earth. Such a young guy.
That’s why Bob McIntyre is unhappy. He lives in Orlando. He was a member of the prestigious Isleworth Golf and Country Club. He’s made $3 million in the past seven months alone. But it’s just different. It’s less public. In the United States, pros travel in teams with swing coaches, physical therapists, psychologists, managers, and more. This is a business. While in Europe, they would travel with other pros and spend most evenings in the clubhouse having lunch or dinner and drinks, catching up on each other’s lives. He admitted that he and his girlfriend, Shannon, felt lonely.
A scene from the small town of Auburn, a town of 8,000 people. (Brody Miller/The Athletic)
He comes home whenever possible, spending three weeks in Auburn before his breakthrough win at the Canadian Open in June. Instead of taking the win to the iconic commemoration event, he immediately flew back home the next week to party.
McIntyre competes in the Scottish Open at North Berwick this week before traveling to Royal Troon for the Scottish Open. So when McIntyre found himself torn between two parallel paths – as he tried to decide where he wanted to spend his life – I felt compelled to drive from Edinburgh to this small fishing village on Scotland’s west coast Find out why this town of 8,000 people is so attractive to this man. We learned something about home.
“I found myself coming back to reality…” McIntyre said. “When I came back to Auburn, I was treated like Bob, one of the boys, not Robert McIntyre, the golfer. I thought that was the way it should be.
The moment has gone viral – you’ve no doubt seen it – but watch it again, especially in the minute before the microphone switches to Dougie McIntyre. He lingered a few feet away from his son, slowly scanning the scene in Hamilton, Ontario with his head. He watched his son’s first PGA Tour victory with a look of awe, club in hand. McIntyre just needs to find a caddy for the Canadian Open. Most caddies didn’t want a week’s work, so he called his father at Auburn. Dougie hopped on a flight to Ottawa. Five days later, they were victorious. Together.
When CBS reporter Amanda Balionis motioned to Dougie to ask him a question, he seemed to take a slight step back. He is not a talkative person. But whether Dougie likes it or not, he’s the man of the week. Maybe even more than his son. She walked to the other side and cornered him. He could barely speak.
“It’s unbelievable. I’m a lawnmower. Not a caddy. Not a caddy. It’s unbelievable, honestly.”
“I want to win this for my dad.” ❤️
Robert McIntyre was interviewed by us @Amanda_balionis what does it mean to win @RBCCandianOpen The bag has his father on it. pic.twitter.com/aMeTEgDdEz
— Golf on CBS ⛳ (@GolfonCBS) June 2, 2024
Back home, they packed into the clubhouse to watch and cheer. They knew how surreal this was for Dougie because he was so much more than just a lawnmower. They know how special it is. Dougie was an athlete, a good player but also good at football and golf. He didn’t have the financial resources to pursue it. He became a greenskeeper at Glencruitten, raising four children at home on the 12th hole and also taking in a number of foster children. Bob’s two sisters, both skilled horseback riders, also made sacrifices to provide Bob with opportunities. Bob was the one who had the opportunity to do more, and Dougie mentored him.
“He’s the only one,” Amo said. “You’ll hear other people say they coached Bob, but they didn’t. Bob’s father was his coach.
Dougie was mowing the grass on his lawnmower during the rough weather in Scotland on Tuesday. The course is a beast, short but hilly, with 18 holes, steep slopes and narrow fairways. “You can see how Bob became so good,” club captain Kennedy Wine said. They only have three lawn mowers and the equipment needs updating. Dougie didn’t complain. When he saw a stranger approaching, he jumped off the lawn mower. He is now used to reporters being here, but not used to it.
He blushed and just smiled and said in the sweetest way, “No, no, I’m not doing interviews. Feel free to talk to anyone. I just don’t…yeah…I’m sorry.”
Dougie and Carol teach their children to be humble. McIntyre didn’t get to play much junior golf because they couldn’t afford it. Members took turns driving him to tournaments he could attend, and some helped carry his bags. Developing golfers is a shared effort, but that means they are all a part of it.
James Forgriff was a great golfer here in his own right and a prominent figure in the area. When asked what a young McIntyre was like, he dryly quipped: “Oh, shameless -” before correcting himself with a laugh. “No no, always a very quiet young man.”
“James was very supportive of Bob and all the descendants,” said his nephew Duncan Forgriff. “When Bob was going through a tough time, maybe not so good, a lot of people helped him in various ways, and James fell into that category.”
It’s not common for a golfer to be so proud of their home. Starters may announce they’re from their town or talk about it fondly, but they all tend to live in Florida or Arizona right now. Few people are as connected to home as McIntyre. It’s the core of who he is — Bob from Auburn — and it goes both ways. McIntyre helped put the place on the map. It is a resort town and a stop for tourists on their way to the North West Islands. It has a strong fishing industry and beautiful attractions such as McCaig’s Tower, which is made of Bonneville granite and overlooks the city and bay. Suddenly, it was calling itself the “Robert McIntyre House” and had signs all over town. People come to Grancrutten just to play on his home turf. Scotland is famous for its golf, but at its core Oban is more of a seedy town. This is a physical, intense game. Duncan described it as “hockey without rules,” while McIntyre still played for the Auburn Celtics. He learned not to wear jewelry years ago when it was caught and nearly came off his finger.
“Yeah, good. Very good,” Duncan said. “He was strong and determined. Resourceful.
“And grumpy!” shouted another man from across the bar.
These are McIntyre’s men. When he secured the final automatic qualification for the 2023 Ryder Cup, he flew 15-20 of them to Rome and housed them in a villa. Instead of flying back privately like most of his peers, he flew home with a crew on a commercial flight. When they returned, McIntyre carried the cup from school to school in the district, speaking and demonstrating to the children. That night, they had a “huge” party at Glencruitten, with a band playing, everyone posing for photos, and McIntyre smiling happily the entire night.
“It’s a good West Coast ceilidh,” Duncan said.
But when McIntyre left Auburn this year to compete full-time on the PGA Tour for the first time, the homesickness didn’t go away. He moved back and forth as much as he could. He clarified that he didn’t have serious mental health issues, but “I just didn’t have the magic.” It always took a return to Auburn to spark his game. One can’t help but wonder if it’s sustainable.
“He still has some brief periods,” James said. “If he didn’t have a girlfriend or something, he would be a little lonely. He was a social person, but he was lonely at times. What he wanted most was to go home.
He returned to Scotland for the National Open, wearing a rhombus hat to represent his local foundation and preparing to be interviewed by a group of reporters. He saw a group of senior Scottish journalists sitting in the front row. “There he is,” he said to one, smiling. He is very comfortable here.
He talked about being home again recently, and when he was home he didn’t pick up a club and didn’t go out much. He just soaked up the normalcy at home, eating some of Carol’s baked goods (he bought his mother a new kitchen after his first win) and having lunch with his Glencruitten mates.
But he was asked about the situation in Florida. About how he balances trying to make Florida a new home while staying connected to the place that created him.
“My rent went up, I think the end of August, to be honest, I didn’t think I was going to renew my lease,” McIntyre said. “Scotland is my home and yes, I joined Isleworth. That will always be where I go to practice in the winter but there’s nothing like home. Scotland, that’s where I want to be.
Glencrutten Golf Club in Oban, Scotland. (Brody Miller/The Athletic)
He will continue playing on the PGA Tour. His return won’t change his career. He might rent a house in Florida during the winter so he could practice more, but deep down, it’s not home and he doesn’t think it ever will be.
In this decision, McIntyre found a path in between. Home can be the place that holds you back. Comfort builds confidence, but comfort can also prevent you from becoming who you want to be. McIntyre took the risk. He left home to try to make the jump to an elite golfer. In fact, home has never hindered McIntyre. Oban, Glencruitten and everyone in between? They were the ones who brought him here. They are the ones who push him forward.
So before I drove back to Edinburgh I walked Bob Macintyre’s route. It’s a tough but beautiful race, with a green canvas filled with intimidating hills and challenging close shots. Two Auburn men were walking down the 12th fairway on what felt like a 100-yard slope. “This is the hole where Bob learned to play golf!” said Declan Curran. They explain how it’s a process of choice, where risk and reward are based on figuring out how to play with wind and elevation.
Bob McIntyre learned from an early age how to make choices in order to become a great golfer. This time, he chose Auburn.
(Top photo: Andrew Reddington/Getty Images)
