Gary Woodland's Battle: More Than Just Golf
Let’s cut the crap. Golf is tough. It’s a mental battlefield. We all know that. But sometimes, the fight isn’t just against a bad slice or a missed putt. Sometimes, the fight is for your damn life. Gary Woodland’s story? It’s one of those times. This isn’t just about birdies and bogeys. This is about a guy staring down something way bigger than the 18th hole. And he’s doing it with some serious backup.
The Invisible Enemy
You hear about Gary Woodland. PGA Tour winner. U.S. Open champ. Good player. Solid. But what you might not know, or what he kept quiet for a damn long time, is the hell he’s been going through. Three years ago, things started getting weird. Shaky. Couldn’t eat. Waking up in a cold sweat, scared to death. Sounds like a bad movie, right? But it was real. Doctors found a tumor. Pressing on the part of his brain that handles fear. Anxiety. The whole damn package.
September 2023. They cut into his skull. High-risk surgery. Could have messed up his eyesight, other stuff too. They got most of it out. He felt better. Came back to golf in January 2025. Said he was ready. Ready for what? Turns out, the fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
He missed cuts. Lots of them. Finished way down the FedEx Cup standings. 2025 was better, but still no real fire. Then 2026 rolls around, and it looked like he was sliding backward. Three missed cuts in his first five starts. People watching? They just saw the golf. They didn’t see the war going on inside his head.
The Silence Breaks
Woodland was suffering. Quietly. Week after week. Fans, other players, everyone rooting for him. But he was drowning. Then, at the Players Championship, he finally cracked. Spoke out. Told Golf Channel’s Rex Hoggard what was really going on. He’d been diagnosed with PTSD about a year before. And it was hitting him hard. Sometimes mid-round.
He told stories. Like in Napa. A walking scorer startled him. He was so rattled, he spent the rest of the round hiding in bathrooms, crying. “Days when it’s tough,” he said. “Crying in the scoring trailer, running to my car just to hide it. I don’t want to live that way anymore.” Damn. That’s heavy stuff. Stuff you don’t see on TV. Stuff that makes you realize this game is just… a game. Compared to this.
Enter the Fighter Pilot
Now, who the hell is in Woodland’s corner? Someone who gets it. Someone who’s seen some shit. Lt. Col. Dan Rooney. This guy’s a former fighter pilot. Flew F-16s in Iraq. Three combat tours. He knows “emotionally intense.” He knows what it’s like to be in a tight spot, processing things you don’t even realize you’re processing until you’re back on solid ground.
Rooney’s dealt with his own demons. PTSD. Claustrophobia. Jumped by loud noises. Trigger mechanisms, he calls them. But he’ll tell you straight up: “I never had anything as intense as what Gary is going through.” High praise from a combat pilot. That tells you something.
A Bond Forged in More Than Golf
How did these two even meet? Back in 2006. Woodland was playing college ball at Kansas. His coach, Ross Randall, hooked him up with Rooney, a former KU golfer who’d gone into the Air Force. They played a round. Rooney saw it. Woodland hits it harder and faster than anyone he’d ever seen. “Like Superman,” Rooney said.
But Rooney’s not just a guy who can fly a jet and hit a golf ball. He’s a damn superhero in real life. In 2007, he started Folds of Honor. This non-profit? It funds scholarships for families of fallen or disabled military folks and first responders. We’re talking nearly 73,000 scholarships. Over $340 million. He also started the Patriot Golf Club and American Dunes, where all the profits go back to Folds of Honor. This is a man who walks the walk.
Woodland’s got military folks in his family. He was drawn to Rooney and his mission. The day Woodland got his PGA Tour card in 2008, he called Rooney. Wanted the Folds of Honor logo on his bag. He’s been a huge ambassador ever since.
Their connection? It goes way deeper than charity events. Rooney flew to Tampa to celebrate Woodland’s first PGA Tour win in 2011. He even officiated Gary and Gabby’s wedding in 2016. When Woodland won the U.S. Open in 2019, he was rocking the Volition America gear – another brand Rooney started to help Folds of Honor. “We went from nothing to owning this patriotic space,” Rooney said. That’s some serious synergy.
Faith and Fighting
Rooney and Woodland? They also share a Christian faith. Rooney calls himself Team Woodland’s “prayer warrior.” When things get tough, the calls come. “Hey, we gotta pray.”
That definitely happened in September 2023. That surgery. Doctors drilled into Woodland’s skull. Removed that lesion on his amygdala. The fear center. Rooney knows how massive that was. “Unfathomable where this tumor was, and how disruptive this surgery was.” The tumor was benign, but still… they don’t fully know what it was. They know what it *wasn’t*, which is something, I guess.
Rooney knew the surgery wasn’t a magic fix. He knew his friend was still hurting. Still scared. He might have even come back to the Tour too soon. But he didn’t fully grasp what the whole world would soon know until recently.
Rooney’s seen this before. Military vets he knows? They’ve described that feeling of being trapped in their own heads. “Emotional ditches.” Worst case? They felt like taking their own lives was the only way out. “That’s the piece that I think people have a real hard time understanding,” Rooney says. And he’s right. It’s hard to fathom. Unless you’ve been there. Or you’re standing next to someone who is.
Rooney knew Woodland was dealing with hypervigilance. Crowds were tough. So, when Woodland took a vice-captain role for the Ryder Cup last year? Rooney was worried. “How in the world are you gonna go into the Ryder Cup feeling this way and dealing with this stuff?”
But that week? It was a breather. Woodland said being with teammates, his Tour pals, it put him at ease. “I didn’t have to hide it,” he said. “I could be myself.” That’s huge. Just being able to be yourself. No hiding. No faking.
The Comeback on the Course
Good days. Bad days. That’s how Woodland’s described his journey. Last week, at the Houston Open. Friday. He gets to the 9th tee. Fans packed against the ropes. His hypervigilance kicks in. Tour security steps in. But he’s a wreck. The last 10 holes? A disaster. After signing for a 65, which put him in the lead, he “bawled.”
But then… something different happened. Something he couldn’t do before. A mental reset. He calmed his mind. Focused. Knew he had one of the biggest rounds of his career ahead of him. “I’m in a fight,” he said. “[But] with the love and support I have around me, I have hope.”
Sunday. He shoots a 67. Wins by five. Walks down the 18th fairway. Crowd roaring his name. His playing partner, Min Woo Lee, hyping them up. He sinks the putt. Gabby rushes out. He collapses into her arms. Weeping. Goosebumps, man. If you didn’t get goosebumps, you’re not human.
Rooney wasn’t there. But on Palm Sunday, he texted Woodland. The message? “This isn’t about you. You’re the parable. You’re the vessel that God is working through to give everybody hope.”
That’s the kind of support system that can pull you through hell. It’s not just about the swing. It’s about the fight. And Gary Woodland? He’s fighting. With everything he’s got. And he’s got a damn good team in his corner. You can learn a lot from that. More than you can from any golf lesson. Check out Folds of Honor to see the incredible work Dan Rooney and his team are doing.