By Andy Lack

In the last couple of months, Ludvig Aberg has taken the golf world by storm. If the Ryder Cup was the annunciation, last week’s four stroke victory at the RSM Classic was the nativity. In 2023, we are often able to identify when something special is happening through social media. We can often catalogue and place into context the singularity of a moment through a Justin Ray tweet storm. According to Ray, Ludvig is the only player to turn pro, win on the DP World Tour, and win on the PGA Tour, all in the same year. He also just shot the lowest two round total (61-61) to win on the PGA Tour. Oh, and it happened to also be the lowest score over two final rounds ever. And the lowest 54 hole score ever. And the lowest 72 hole score ever.

Even if it occurs during the seemingly flat RSM Classic in the middle of football season, when record gets broken, the golf world takes notice. Aberg already bears the egregious and improper weight of expectations for The Next Cat. The pendulum has likely swung too far on poor Ludvig, but such is par for the course in the First Take era. Let’s just get this on the record. Comparing Ludvig Aberg to Tiger Woods is a disservice to all parties involved. For context, at Ludvig’s age, Tiger had already won two majors and 16 times on the PGA Tour. Ludvig has yet to hit a single shot in a major championship. There will never be another Tiger Woods, which takes nothing away from the spell-binding, generational talent of the young Swede.

Over the past few days, I’ve thought a lot about why such lofty expectations have already been mounted on the 24-year old, and why we’ve already become so enamored with his abilities. For context, Tom Kim is two years younger than Aberg, and has accomplished twice as much in a shorter period of time. Why isn’t the weight of the world on Kim’s shoulders as the next beacon of professional golf?

The answer is fairly simple. There is a spectacular aspect to the way that Ludvig plays golf. He possesses a very specific and distinctive skill-set, his ability to drive the ball long and straight, that may already qualify as generational. The Texas Tech product has now played over 50 rounds on the PGA Tour, and he ranks second in strokes gained off the tee, first in total driving, and sixth in driving distance. This, of course, is not including his data from the DP World Tour, which would only bolster his case as a top-five driver of the ball in the world. Statistically, he’s already established himself as the fifth best player on the planet in true strokes gained off the tee, without ever playing a single round in a major. His driving ability is a spectacle, and spectacle may qualify as the most distilled reason why we watch sports.

Patrick Mahomes footwork and artistry is a spectacle. Stephen Curry’s shooting touch is a spectacle. Shohei Ohtani’s power is a spectacle. I’m ready to say it. Ludvig Aberg’s driver is a spectacle too. Tom Kim is an excellent player, who has already accomplished more than Aberg, and he may even end up with a better career. Yet there is nothing spectacular about his game. I’ve been too influenced over the years by Bill Simmons to not think about cross sport comparisons, and Luka Doncic was the first to come to mind. Both Aberg and Doncic are European, pasty, transfixing at their craft, have Texas ties, and even similar haircuts. Yet the more I think about it, there’s far more Victor Wembanyama in Aberg than there is Doncic. Wemby is a freak. I have friends with middling NBA interest attend games just to get a peak at the seven foot four Frenchman in person. Doncic is completely enthralling to watch play basketball, but there’s nothing freakish about his game. Aberg’s freakish quality is less traditional too. There is nothing abnormal about his body or frame. There rarely ever is with golfers. The physicality component of professional basketball is not really transferrable to the athletic requirements necessarily to be an elite golfer. Yet what Ludvig brings to the table is as anomalous as it gets for professional golf. In a game filled with idiosyncrasies and imperfections, Ludvig’s golf swing is suspiciously robotic. A potential microcosm for the looming Artificial Intelligence takeover, every aspect of Ludvig’s swing appears to be carefully constructed in a Stockholm laboratory.

Which brings us back to Wemby. Neither Aberg or Wemby feels human, and both bring a quality of inequality and inevitability to their current day jobs. Most NBA players can only dream of the profound physical gifts that Wemby was born with. There isn’t really a game-plan or defense that can account for what he is able to do on a basketball court when he’s firing on all cylinders. Attempting to solve a problem that doesn’t seem to make sense is demoralizing, which is a feeling synonymous with what I’d imagine most mules feel watching Ludvig play golf. Wembanyama’s physicality, speed, dribbling ability, and shooting touch doesn’t really align with anything we’ve seen on a basketball court before. Possessing all of those skills all at once is a cheat code. Ludvig’s driving ability falls into a similar category.

Sure. pic.twitter.com/TsIcbbI021

— No Laying Up (@NoLayingUp) November 19, 2023

As someone that spends a great deal of time studying architecture, I can ensure that such a line off the tee was not how Harry Colt intended for this hole to be played. Yet that’s the spectacle of Aberg. He is playing the game in a way that is simply unattainable for his peers. Sure, Ludvig is not the only golfer on the planet who could pull off that shot. Rory McIlroy, Bryson DeChambeau, and Min Woo Lee, all hit the ball longer than Aberg. Not a lot longer, but longer. The difference however between those players and Aberg is his accuracy. Distance, which can be equated to club head speed, is far more of a learned skill than it is a product of god given ability. Three of the four longest players in the game, Rory McIlroy, Gordon Sargent, and Min Woo Lee, are far from physically imposing, and barely crack 170 pounds. The reason they are so long is because of their club head speed, which is more indicative of vigorous speed training than it is physicality. The issue with training for speed is that there is an inherent sacrifice of precision. This is simply physics. The faster one swings a golf club, the more lag they are creating, and the harder it is to perfectly square the club face to the target. This is why every single one of the top-20 longest drivers on the planet rank outside the top-60 in driving accuracy, except Ludvig. If I had to boil down what makes Ludvig so special, it’s his uncanny knack for precision without sacrificing speed.

Over the past six months, of the top-20 longest drivers on the planet, only eight rank inside the top-100 in accuracy. Only two rank in the top-75, Ludvig Aberg and Dustin Johnson, who at his peak, provided a similar transfixing ability off the tee.

I have never seen Ludvig drive the ball in person. I imagine my first opportunity to do so will be at Torrey Pines or Riviera. Yet what Ludvig brings to the sport may transcend his actual accomplishments on the course. Hence why, while the Tiger Woods comparisons may be asinine, let’s just cherish what makes Ludvig so different and special. No, he won’t win 15 majors. He may not win one (although that would surprise me.) He doesn’t necessarily need to in order to put buts in seats. We can still indulge in hyperbole. We have simply never seen someone with the ability to drive the ball this straight with this much club head speed. Enjoy the show.