Best of the week on The Herd

Perfect timing to bring in Allen Shipnuck, who just wrote the Rory book I devoured. Golf can feel elitist, but Rory’s always struck me as the most relatable superstar. Has the drought made him more emotional, or has he always worn it on his sleeve?

He’s always felt the weight. Even as a kid prodigy he cried after wins because it mattered that much. Last year at Augusta was catharsis, this one was pure joy, capped by that hug with his parents. He’s driven by legacy in a way that makes every win feel like a family quest.

He was messy off the tee, brilliant on the par fives, and constantly recovering. I’d call it the great rescue. How would you describe this win?

His most impressive big-stage victory because he never had the A‑game. He managed himself, chipped and putted beautifully, then summoned genius when it mattered with shots like the six‑iron into eight and the dart on twelve. He still had to escape late, but beating Augusta and outdueling Scheffler without the driver is a delicious twist that hints at an even higher ceiling once the tee ball returns.

When you were around him this week, did he feel different, like that pressure valve finally released?

Early week he had a swagger in the green jacket, totally at ease. By Saturday the stakes hit and the familiar fragility surfaced, which is part of why he’s so compelling. He still absorbed the double, kept coming from three down, and wore you out with resilience. That tenacity is his superpower as much as the swing.

Legacy time. I think another green jacket puts him past Phil. With today’s depth, where do you slot Rory now?

He’s already surpassed Phil for me. He’s been world No. 1, won money titles, and now owns the career Grand Slam. The only thing Phil has more of is PGA Tour wins, which balances out with Rory’s Europe record. Seven majors puts you in rare company with the legends; two more and he’s firmly top five all‑time. A year ago you might have said underachiever—now he’s sprinting up the ladder.

He looks so disciplined, yet he’ll grab driver on eighteen and give us all a scare. Where does that wild streak come from?

The driver is his identity, and you don’t tell a generational driver to holster it in the biggest moment. He also had a shot to spare. Augusta invites recovery heroics by design, so he knew five likely wins from almost anywhere. He played the odds, and he was right.

The book is a great read. Last one: when did you last talk with him?

Pebble Beach. I handed him an early copy and warned he might hate it. He later said it made him laugh, which is very Rory—spiky at times, but gracious. He’s a champion the sport can be proud of, and I wouldn’t be shocked if Augusta eventually taps him for membership.

Appreciate you, Allen. The book’s terrific.

On to my playoff calls. The Lakers bow out early to a surging Houston team. Victor’s minutes jump and I’ve got San Antonio making a deep run. New York runs into Boston in round two and runs out of gas. Spurs‑Nuggets looks like the must‑watch clash. Boston reaches the Finals, and my dream matchup is Celtics‑Nuggets.

We may have set a record for safest predictions. Knicks losing to the team you have in the Finals is not exactly daring. And Wimby playing a couple more minutes feels like a lock.

They’re predictions, not stunts. I like Houston’s form, worry about the Lakers’ health, and I think KD’s legacy is mostly set—but this run still matters. Where are you on him if Houston flames out?

If Houston loses, it’s a disaster for everyone involved. I actually think LeBron’s the best player in the series, but the next handful are all Rockets. KD’s still an all‑time great scorer and in that mid‑teens tier historically, yet he needs this stop to stabilize after Brooklyn and Phoenix. The late‑season texting fiasco undercut their chemistry. And by the way, punting the finale and letting Denver into San Antonio’s path was wild—it made Spurs‑Nuggets the series of the bracket, where I lean Denver.

If the Lakers get swept, new ownership won’t be sentimental. Could that push LeBron to look elsewhere?

He accepted a Swiss‑army‑knife third role because of fit with Luka and Austin, but when they sat, he instantly revved back to prime engine mode. I doubt he wants to finish as a permanent third option. Places like New York, Golden State, or Denver—where he’s clearly top two—feel more appealing.

On New York, the city can talk itself into good as great. Bridges is good. Brunson is very good, but not the singular force the top contenders have. I do not see them beating Boston or the best of the East.

They’re not getting past Boston, but Brunson’s being undersold. There’s a size ceiling, yet he can be a legit number two on a title team. The real stall was nobody else leveling up. Expectations also shifted when Boston stayed elite and another East power surged. They likely fall to Boston in round two, which will feel like backsliding.

I’ve said Tatum’s excellent but not exactly a walking aura. To me, Boston’s culture is the star. Brown’s long been underrated, and the machine keeps humming.

Brad Stevens built a massive floor and Mazzulla maximizes it, but they had no real title shot until Tatum came back fast from the Achilles injury and embraced a smaller role while taking on the scrutiny. If they repeat, you may need to reframe him. Maybe he lacks the spotlight glow, but so did Duncan—availability and winning travel.

Without Brown’s edge they’d have no chance; without Tatum’s polish they’d stall too. They’re both essential, but the culture makes the cake.

I have Tatum around the back half of the top ten when fully right and Brown a bit behind him, and both are indispensable. Bigger picture, this era’s parity is real—almost every star is stuck at one ring. The race to two is the storyline now.

Great stuff, Nick. And no, they weren’t bold predictions—just predictions.