Masters 2019 - Patrick Reed interview: ‘If the way I work gives me a competitive edge, I don’t ever see it changing’

Deep in The Woodlands on the outskirts of Houston, a vast tinny building illuminated by a garish theatre sign sits on the corner of Lake Robbins Drive. Indistinguishable in the distance from a disused cinema complex, Morton’s Grille is the treasured retreat of defending Masters champion, Patrick Reed.

The world’s 18th ranked golfer and the sport’s most divisive character, few players provoke such a strong reaction as the man attempting to defend the green jacket. But when at the nouveau steakhouse, forever sporting a set of cowboy boots like the pair he was married in, Reed is oblivious to the well-articulated assumptions and character assassinations.

Food reminds Reed of Texas, and home, the heartbeat of ‘Captain America’. Ahead of his return to Augusta, where he's attempting to become just the fourth man in 83 years to defend the Masters, he has already squeezed the recipe from Morton’s head chef for the signature Shrimp Alexander to serve at his Champions’ Dinner.

The dishes he’s loved since he began the relentless nine-hour practice sessions as a young boy in San Antonio will all make an appearance on his menu. There’s the giant Tomahawk steak he still salivates over after returning home from weeks away on the Tour and the Mac ’n’ Cheese from Morton’s that his wife Justine had delivered to his hotel in Shanghai. The only thing missing is a promised box of Havana’s Romeo Y Julieta cigars. “I feel like I’ve been planning this menu my whole life,” he says.

There was a certain fever when Reed leaned over his final putt to win the Masters last year. An uneasy apprehension amongst the patrons that could have caused the azaleas to wilt. Despite the easy-to-thrill aggression of his play, Reed’s combative persona has often carried him over the mark, and by the time the putt dropped, an ‘anyone but Reed’ sentiment had long overtaken Augusta.

Reed had dreamed about that last putt for over 20 years, envisioning the scene in his mind so many times it had become a lucid dream. The nerves that bite at the knees and cause the back to stiffen, the commentary team whispering the ball’s way to the hole, the gait with which he’d retrieve it as the gallery burst into rapture. But when the moment arrived, Jon Rahm had to wander to the boundary rope to enquire with a group of writers if Reed had in fact won, so eerie was the quiet.

Reed has always insisted he doesn’t care about those detractors. He is for the most part an intensely private individual, driven by a competitive streak and deep loyalty to his wife and young family. Of course, he is aware of the aura that follows him, but often panders to it. If given the chance to shirk his reputation as golfing villain, you start to wonder if that is what actually makes him tick.

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“He’s a hard worker, he always tries to handle his business, and I respect that. People will always say stuff whether they know him or not. I admire his competitiveness.” — Webb Simpson

There is a caricature of Reed, standing on the range with his headphones in, skirting the eye-line of his peers, not out of any shyness but total disinterest. He practises for hours, swinging until his arms turn sore and the callouses on his hands begin to swell, and then he’s off with little more than a salutary wave. His entourage is slim, made up almost exclusively of close family and old friends, and he rarely feels the need to venture outside that bubble. When a cluster of Tour pros were asked for an opinion on Reed in the wake of his victory last year, the majority all offered a reluctant twist on the same monotone response: “He’s just doing his own thing.”

“Every player has to figure out what works best for them,” Reed tells The Independent. “So yes, I like the way I work, and if that gives me a competitive edge, that's great and if it doesn't that's okay too.

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“I’ve been passionate about the game of golf since I first held a club in my hand. I don’t ever see that changing. Each year, I just hope to learn, get a little wiser and play smarter.”

Usually dressed in a traffic light red Nike polo shirt and black trousers, Reed has been in reverence of Tiger Woods since he was nine years old. Spending three days a week at Hank Haney’s ranch in Dallas, he would catch glimpses of the 14-time major champion working with the legendary instructor in one of the converted barnyards and soon began to imitate aspects of Woods’s identity; the standoffish demeanour, the silent arrogance which serves to intimidate competitors and, above all, the work rate. Sometimes Reed would even sit with his old coach, Peter Murphy, and gawk at footage of Haney teaching Woods, in-between hitting laundry size pails of balls until the sun set and medical tape covered the blisters on his hands. Then, he would practise putting under the floodlit green.

“If I’m successful,” he continues. “It’s because of hard work - not for any other reason. Everyone on the Tour works hard, you can’t be on Tour if you don’t. As long as I know that I have put in the work, then I am confident that I am ready, and I can win anything and that is my goal every week.”

When Reed’s family moved to Baton Rouge in Louisiana, he took Woods’ confrontational aura and transformed himself into a ruthless winner. One former classmate at high-school describes Reed as a ‘mercenary’. Another tells of how, after complimenting a peer’s drive, Reed then got down on his knees and hit a shot ten yards further. He was affronting, sometimes arrogant, but rarely disliked.

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His greatest advantage was believing in the depths of his own talent. But at college, by that same token, Reed’s interpersonal relationships began to unravel. A year after being headhunted by the University of Georgia, Reed was kicked off the golf team amid accusations of cheating and stealing from the locker room - both of which he strongly denies. Of the acrimony between Reed and his teammates, Georgia alumni Kevin Kisner famously claimed: “they wouldn’t have pissed on him if he was in a fire”.

Reed has never, at least in the conventional sense, been a team player. After the rifts at Georgia, and then Augusta State, there were the pointed jibes at Jordan Spieth, a grievance over free baseball tickets given to him by the PGA Tour, and then the infamous outburst after this year’s Ryder Cup when he threatened to “light up the room”. He is a cut-throat competitor, for that, he makes no apology. But in the face of it, just as with Woods, many can’t help but reel away.

After Reed left college with an indomitable 6-0 record in the match-play finals of the NCAA I Championships, Spieth was asked why his rival was quite so deadly in the sport’s most spiteful format. “It’s about sticking the knife instead of just playing the match for the match,” he replied.

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“I’ve spent enough time around Patrick to know he’s a really good guy and sometimes misunderstood. I genuinely like him.” — Rory McIlroy

December, 2014 - After finishing a practice round in Naples, Florida ahead of the Franklin Templeton Shootout, Patrick and Justine returned to their hotel room for the evening. Six months after his wife had given birth to their first child, Windsor-Wells, Reed was mindlessly flicking through the channels on TV when he heard a loud thump and the splash of running water. “Honey are you all right?” he shouted.

When Reed entered the ensuite, he found Justine submerged in the bath having a seizure. He yanked her from the water and began frantically performing the Heimlich manoeuvre. When the paramedics arrived, they told him that if he’d acted 15 seconds later, Justine would have died.

Many say they saw a different side to Reed in the weeks afterwards. When he eventually left Justine with his mother-in-law at the hospital and returned to the hotel, he burst into tears as he touched the door handle, called the concierge and had all of his possessions moved out of the room without stepping inside.

It is Justine who Reed leans on to make decisions, who he describes as his “best friend and biggest supporter” And after shooting back-to-back 78s, it was she who called legendary coach David Leadbetter just three weeks before this Masters defence in a last-ditch attempt to rectify Reed’s dramatic downturn in form.

“One of the first things he told me was ‘Justine knows me the best and she knows when I’m not happy or struggling. If it’s good for Justine, it’s good for me’,” Leadbetter tells The Independent.

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“Part of the fact he’s been so successful is he and his wife are very much on the same page. She’s more than just a passive observer, she’s very involved in the decision making and his brother-in-law is his caddy. In a way that is unusual. They really work as a team.”

Justine Karain was a nurse with two undergraduate degrees when she was introduced to Reed through her sister, Kristiane. A former competitive swimmer and soccer player herself, the couple instantly clicked and began a long-distance relationship while Reed was at Augusta State. After he graduated a year early in 2011, they were engaged when Reed was just 22 years old. Justine quit her job to become her fiancé’s full-time caddy - a gig that only ended once Justine became pregnant - and they would drive from Texas to North Carolina to play in PGA Tour qualifying events. When Reed finally claimed his first Tour victory, beating Jordan Spieth in a playoff at the Wyndham Championship in 2013, the couple lifted the trophy together, both colour-coordinated in Tiger’s black and red. Above all else, Reed is an extremely family-orientated person.

“If I could have my wife and kids on the road with me every week, I would,” Reed says. “Playing on both the PGA and European Tour, I travel 30-plus weeks per year. Being a father has put a lot of things in perspective for me. Now, I’m not only responsible for myself and my wife. Having children gives you an inspiring sense of responsibility that’s helped me to focus even more. They make such an impact on your life.”

“I think having kids I really have worked hard to try and keep a great balance between home and work. When we’re home, we want to give our full attention to our children and when we work, we give our full attention to work. We have a great support system around us that helps us to create the best environment for us to be successful and our children to be happy. That is the most important aspect of our lives together.”

That is the lesser-seen side to Reed. The one shuttered away, the bedrock he shields and protects. It’s why he felt so aggrieved when the immediate aftermath of his Masters victory descended into an interrogation of the estranged relationship he has with his own parents.

Reed hasn’t spoken to his mother and father since he and Justine were married in 2012. The saga has played out in public spats, police escorts off the course and his parents being forced to follow his victory at Augusta from the television at home on the outskirts of town. An ugly spotlight which left Reed feeling slighted by the speculation of those beyond his circle. Sometimes, it’s easier to be the bad guy. Sometimes, it can be a thorn in the side.

Reed always purports to be unaffected by any remarks. Quietly, you wonder whether they cause him to become more closed off, more cautious of those outside his tight-knit team. He enjoys his reputation of golf’s rakish Captain America, the southern cowboy without a care. But be it the shadows of his personal life, the fraught relationships through high-school and college, or the scrutiny that has smothered him ever since, you get the sense Reed has only been rendered more ambivalent to the goings-on outside of his bubble.

Golf, family and food. Those are Reed’s three loves. So, as he compiled his Masters’ menu with Justine, drawing on the dishes from his childhood that he now attempts to grill himself at home with his children, they in a way serve to define him. And when Patrick Reed says “he feels like he’s been planning this menu his whole life,” in many ways, he has.