Shane Ryan

In this video from Golf Digest, On Campus, we profile the $10 million golf practice facility at the University of Illinois turned the men's college golf program into a national power

It's generally presumed that golf is better in the warmer parts of the country and, by extension, so is college golf. And why wouldn't it be? When you're not confined indoors by cold spells like the one currently ripping through the U.S., you can practice more, and that gives you a leg up on the shivering northerners. A look at the last 20 NCAA men’s D-I team champions confirms the narrative; all but one (Oregon in 2016) are from south of the Mason-Dixon or California.

Our new series starts off with a thorough look at the pre-Tiger era and everything in professional golf that made him possible.

Our series concludes with the post-Tiger era that has led to this state of crisis in the golf world.

Progress in this game has taken weird turns, and Golf Digest has covered them all, managing the feat of looking both forward and backward to take stock of the present.

Editor's Note: Our Local Knowledge podcast is celebrating Golf Digest's 75th anniversary through a special three-part series, “Revolutions: A re-examined history of modern golf, Golf Digest, and Tiger Woods.” Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The second part of our series breaks down the pinnacle of Tiger Woods—the Tiger Slam of 2000 and 2001.

Editor's Note: Our Local Knowledge podcast is celebrating Golf Digest's 75th anniversary through a special three-part series, “Revolutions: A re-examined history of modern golf, Golf Digest, and Tiger Woods.” Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

As far as summer jobs go for a middle class kid in upstate New York, working the maintenance crew at a private golf course had to be the absolute worst decision I could have made. I was the youngest person on a crew of lifers, I wasn't licensed (or frankly, trusted) to drive any of the machine mowers or even the bunker raker, which left only the grunt work—my job was to use a push mower or weed whacker to trim all the areas the mowers couldn't get. And which areas were those? Tee embankments and other steep hills. So for eight miserable hours on hot summer days, I would walk sideways on hills trying to control an absurdly heavy push mower while dodging golfers who would yell at me if I delayed them by a millisecond. (Yes, I hated them.) Was the mower at least self-propelled, you ask? Ha, ****ing ha. We did have one of those, but the other grunt on staff was older so he got dibs. I got the clunker.

As far as summer jobs go for a middle class kid in upstate New York, working the maintenance crew at a private golf course had to be the absolute worst decision I could have made. I was the youngest person on a crew of lifers, I wasn’t licensed (or frankly, trusted) to drive any of the machine mowers or even the bunker raker, which left only the grunt work—my job was to use a push mower or weed whacker to trim all the areas the mowers couldn’t get. And which areas were those? Tee embankments and other steep hills. So for eight miserable hours on hot summer days, I would walk sideways on hills trying to control an absurdly heavy push mower while dodging golfers who would yell at me if I delayed them by a millisecond. (Yes, I hated them.) Was the mower at least self-propelled, you ask? Ha, ****ing ha. We did have one of those, but the other grunt on staff was older so he got dibs. I got the clunker.