July marks the 25th anniversary of one of the two most notorious collapses in major championship history when Jean Van de Velde lost a three-shot lead on the final hole at Carnoustie. In the wake of Rory McIlroy's loss at Pinehurst, the Frenchman's late meltdown feels more relevant than ever; not just for the bizarre way it happened, but for his remarkable reaction, both then and in the 25 years since.

Cyril Walker put together the four rounds of his life in 1924 at the U.S. Open in Oakland Hills, defeating Bobby Jones in the final round and etching his name in golf history. So why don't more of us know him? The sad reality of Jones' life is that he fell into a spiral not long after his greatest triumph, and met a sad end in a New Jersey jail cell. This is his story.

This summer marks the 25th anniversary of Payne Stewart's triumph at Pinehurst in the 1999 U.S. Open, and as fate would have it, the National Open is back in at no. 2. In this podcast, we examine the life of Payne Stewart in living color, up to his great victory in North Carolina and his tragic death later that fall.

We've spent a decade wondering when Rory McIlroy will win his next major, but as the PGA Championship heads to Valhalla, we turned our eyes backward, to the last time he pulled it off. On that hot, humid Sunday in Kentucky, Rory asserted his will and claimed his throne atop the sport ... and it was one of those strangest finishes you could ever imagine.

Before the professional of Tiger Woods ever began, a PGA Tour committee met and determined that Sam Snead had accumulated 82 official wins in his PGA Tour career. As fate would have it, this is the exact number Tiger has landed on as his career seems to be winding down. In this podcast, we go deep on Snead's wins, and why that 82 total is—sorry to say it—highly dubious.

When Roberto De Vicenzo signed an incorrect scorecard to lose the 1968 Masters, it represented not just his failure, but the failure of several individuals and institutions, including Augusta National itself. This is the story of what really happened that day on the course, and why De Vicenzo is only partly to blame for the greatest blunder in the history of major championship golf.

What happens when two men who are each forces of nature, in their own way, clash at the most prestigious championship in American golf? When one is rich and handsome and headstrong, but the other is the lord of Augusta National? When Cliff Roberts, the chairman of Augusta, and Frank Stranahan, the playboy son of a millionaire, collided at the Masters in 1948, it was inevitable that something wild would happen. And something did—a controversy that shed a light on two of the strangest American lives in golf history, and gave a glimpse at the paranoia and exclusivity that dominated old Augusta.

The Official World Golf Ranking has never enjoyed the prominence it has today, but it's not the good kind of prominence. With some of the world's best players no longer receiving points since they're with LIV, the OWGR is under fire, and even LIV-neutral observers think it might be dying. But what is the OWGR? How does it work? How did it come about historically? This week on Local Knowledge, we go deep on the system that is reeling, and might need a eulogy before long.

If you only knew the late Pete Dye as a funny and somewhat crotchety old man, and if you only know a little about his life's work, from Sawgrass to Whistling Straits, you might not have the sense of his hard edge—how he pursued his creative visions with zealous focus, and how we would say what he needed to say and do what he needed to do to see that vision to fulfillment. With his wife Alice, he forged one of the greatest design careers ever, and his sheer genius led the way at every turn.

If there's a Jackie Robinson of golf, the title goes to Charlie Sifford, the first black man to be a full member of the PGA Tour. Every part of his journey was difficult, from the obstacles that kept him from competing with the best players in the world until he was almost 40, to the virulent racial hatred he faced once he got there. But unlike some of his fellow athletic pioneers, Sifford never softened, even in his later years as the world tried to make it right by showering him with awards. As he told one reporter, "If you'd been through what I've been through, you wouldn't be smiling either." This is his story.