Bryson, the Bunker, and the Battle Within

Last September, I was at the 2nd hole of the Ryder Cup, watching Europe thump the United States in the afternoon fourballs.

It was one of those sporting occasions where emotion hung in the air. The U.S. team looked flat. Beaten. Even world number one Scottie Scheffler folded. And yet, in the middle of all that disappointment, one man stood out, fist pumping and smiling at the crowds.

Bryson DeChambeau.

Not because he was winning everything in sight, not because he was louder than everyone else, but because he looked like he was actually enjoying the event.

He was interacting with the crowd. Smiling. Leaning into the chaos. Playing the role of entertainer as well as competitor. In a setting that could easily have made him defensive or withdrawn, he seemed alive to the moment. His raw, emotional, genius-driven comeback from four down to draw on the last day also helped the US almost pull off a miracle.  

He is not just one of the world’s best golfers. He is also a character. And golf needs that.

It always has. Think Seve Ballesteros, Phil Mickelson, Rory McIlroy.

That swashbuckling, maverick, shot-making, slightly theatrical energy that makes the game feel bigger than scorecards and statistics. Bryson has that too. He is, in many ways, the modern American version of that archetype. And yes, as my wife happily pointed out, being a very good-looking chap doesn’t hurt either.

But what struck me most wasn’t the charisma. It was the contrast.

Because when LIV Golf was first announced for South Africa, I spoke to a friend who had worked closely with that world. He mentioned that Bryson, especially early on, had a reputation for being quite surly, arrogant, and not particularly warm with staff. Not the easiest man in the room. Not the most generous with his energy.

And then, somewhere along the line, something changed.

Someone may have had a word with him. A mentor. A friend. A life event. A moment of truth. I have no idea what happened behind the scenes. But the man changed.

You can see it in how he carries himself, in how he engages fans, in the ease, the joy, and the openness.

At a LIV event in Steyn City this weekend, I watched him stop during the tension of competition to help a fan retrieve a camera lens that had fallen into a bunker. He raked the bunker himself. In the middle of chasing glory and millions of dollars, he paused for a small act of kindness.

That’s not weakness or distraction. It feels like maturity and awareness. It was a reminder that elite performance and human decency are not opposing forces. He went on to play incredible golf, right up to the insane shot (from the mud) to set up an Eagle and a playoff victory against another titan of the game, Jon Rahm. He won hearts and minds in South Africa not just with his incredible play, but with his humanity, his kindness, his ability to pause to give a sh*t.

In fact, the longer I do this work with leaders and teams, the more convinced I become that the very best performers eventually figure this out: your results may earn attention, but your humanity earns loyalty. The men and women at the top of the food chain are often generous, humble and kind, without sacrificing the ruthless edge that has driven them to the top.

We’ve touched this theme a few times in recent newsletters.

When I wrote about the rugby club showerheads that I initially judged as exclusionary, the lesson was clear: our first interpretation is not always the truth. The story in our head can be wildly wrong. Bryson’s transformation feels similar. Many people had him pegged. Maybe fairly, at one stage. But people are not frozen in one chapter of their lives.

Then there was the reflection on emotional load and how hard it is to lead well when internal noise is running the show. Often, what we see externally, that arrogance, withdrawal, overcompensation, defensiveness… it really represents unresolved inner clutter leaking out sideways. I’m as guilty as anyone, for sure.

And behind both of those sits the same leadership truth: self-awareness changes outcomes.

When someone becomes more conscious of how they land, more intentional about how they show up, and more proactive about the energy they bring into the room, everything changes. Not just for them, but for the people around them.

There are at least three places we can see this same pattern play out.

One of the most remarkable things about the Springboks under Rassie Erasmus has not just been tactical innovation. It has been emotional intelligence. Finally, we are a team that represents smarts and maturity, not just on the field but also off the field.

This is not a soft team. Far from it. They are brutal, disciplined, combative, and obsessed with detail. But they also understand connection. They understand the story. They understand that people will run harder for one another when they feel seen. And they are crystal clear and aligned in why they are playing: For the fans, for South Africa, for the people back home who need them to succeed, because they are a ray of light in a world full of darkness.

That is the Bomb Squad lesson in another form. High performance is not just about intensity. It is about belonging. It is about every player understanding that his contribution matters, even if it comes in minute 62 instead of minute 2. Bryson’s shift feels similar. Still fierce. Still unconventional. Still deeply competitive. But with more generosity around the edges.

In business, founders often get away with rough edges for longer than they should.

A strong personality can build a business. It can drive standards. It can create momentum. But eventually, the market, the team, and the customer all begin to reflect the leader's emotional climate.

• You can be brilliant and still be exhausting.

• You can be visionary and still be inaccessible.

• You can be world-class and still make people feel small.

The leaders who scale best are the ones who realize they are not just building a company. They are building an experience of what it feels like to work with them, buy from them, and follow them. Bryson seems to have understood that. He is no longer just a golfer. He is part performer, part brand, part host.

We live in an era where talent alone is not enough.

The modern athlete, business leader, creator, or CEO is expected to be excellent and relatable. Fans want access. Teams want authenticity. Customers want to know who they are dealing with. That does not mean manufacturing a fake personality. It does mean understanding that your impact is shaped not only by what you achieve, but by how people experience you.

Bryson’s embrace of social media, crowds, fan moments, and visible warmth feels like someone who has grasped that truth. Whether every moment is natural or partly practiced almost doesn’t matter. Practice is how character often becomes visible anyway.

If I were to put language to Bryson’s transformation, I would borrow from Stephen Covey and the Enneagram.

Covey would call it proactivity.

Not waiting for the world to tell you who you are, not blaming the media, the crowd, the pressure, or the narrative… but taking ownership of your paradigm and your behavior.

The Enneagram would call it self-observation.

Seeing your default pattern, understanding your defense mechanisms, recognizing how your gifts get distorted under pressure.

For some people, stress makes them controlling, for others, withdrawn. And for some, performative, aggressive, or dismissive.

Growth starts when you stop saying, “That’s just how I am,” and start asking, “What is my behavior costing me?” My guess is that somewhere along the way, Bryson asked a better question. And it changed not only how he plays, but how he is received.

Here’s the cool thread:

Small repeated behaviors shape identity. Identity shapes reputation. Reputation shapes influence. Influence shapes results.

Bryson did not become more compelling because he suddenly hit the ball farther. He was already doing that. He became more compelling because the man around the swing seems to have evolved. And that, sports fans, is the real transformation.

PG’s Pro Tip:

Ask yourself this week:

Are you making time for the small gestures of kindness that take very little from you, but mean a great deal to the people in your life?

Not grand gestures.

Not expensive gestures.

Not strategic gestures.

Small ones.

The reply, The thank you, The eye contact.

The pause, The helping hand, The name remembered.

The fan acknowledged, The bunker raked.

Three action points

1. Audit your emotional wake. Ask: When I leave an interaction, do people feel lighter, clearer, and more valued, or more tense, unsure, and diminished?

2. Pick one tiny visible kindness habit. Choose something repeatable: replying promptly, greeting by name, thanking support staff, or making one small helpful gesture each day.

3. Match performance with presence. Excellence is powerful. Warmth makes it magnetic. Don’t force a fake persona, just remove the unnecessary armor.

ChatGPT Prompt 

“Help me identify how I currently come across to other people under pressure. Based on my leadership style, likely Enneagram pattern, and recent interactions, give me:

1. three behaviors that may unintentionally create distance,

2. three small acts of kindness or connection that would feel authentic to me,

3. a five-minute daily reflection practice to help me become more self-aware and proactive in how I show up.”

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