It was a week to show that Bryson DeChambeau has a fragile kind of showmanship.His magnetism is not affected by crossing seas. Just ask Jack Suber, whose son Jackson had the misfortune of being paired with DeChambeau for Sunday’s final round. He had to intervene when a fan waved his hat to catch DeChambeau’s attention while Jackson was hitting his drive off the first and bit his lip at the second tee when a fan within earshot asked for the identity of Bryson’s playing partner before quickly answering his own question. “Not that it f***ing matters.”Birkdale’s crowds flocked to see DeChambeau and flecked their roars with ironic humour. When he appeared on the first tee a fan yelled, “Rory’ll buy you a pint after this!” He grinned back, perhaps through gritted teeth. He had to keep those teeth gritted. With his radar badly askew, he clung on grimly until it all gave way on the 11th hole when he lost his ball a mile right. He got down for a triple-bogey that smithereened his challenge, finishing six shots from winner Ryan Fox.His silver lining is that he finished sufficiently down the leaderboard that his two-shot penalty on Friday did not cost him a first Claret Jug. The scene after that penalty’s imposition was a moment when the curtains fell to reveal a fuller picture of DeChambeau. Golf is held up as an expression of one’s character but we don’t see every dimension of a person between the ropes, as DeChambeau is not always the sauntering jock we see on television.Bryson DeChambeau of the United States is driven by a rules offical on a buggy on day two of The Open. Photograph: Richard Heathcote/Getty Tens of journalists and camera crews were gathered by the scorers’ tent waiting for DeChambeau to emerge from Friday’s inquiry, all compelled to the scene by that oddly truant thrill of sideshow news.DeChambeau eventually appeared, walking stiffly, his cheeks stung with reproach and his gaze fixed ahead, a deeply unconvincing smile applied to his face. He ignored the questions asking whether he was actually going to withdraw in protest, instead repeatedly asking, How’s everyone doing tonight? Y’all having a good evening?”The media trailed him all the way to the driving range, where he started thwacking balls into the gloaming. He whistled as he swung, offering snacks to the journalists standing behind. He was still hitting balls as the night curtained around him, until he was illuminated only by a digital scoreboard that glowed like the neon sign of some dingy American motel. He packed up and left at 10.30pm, handing a glove to a bewildered security guard who didn’t appear to have asked for it. The whole 90-minute scene was surreal and uncomfortable. DeChambeau was not acting like a circus ringmaster, putting on one late encore for the press. This was more akin to the teacher’s pet whose world is knocked off its axis by a rare reprimand, searching frantically for some comfort and equilibrium. We felt like queasy interlopers on a private scene. Rory McIlroy said DeChambeau range session was “performative” but perhaps the driving range is the only place DeChambeau feels truly comfortable. Walloping golf balls may be his equivalent of locking his bedroom door.Obviously disappointed with the ruling. I don’t agree with it, but it is what it is. This fires me up. Onto the weekend. Let’s get it.— Bryson DeChambeau (@brysondech) July 17, 2026