A Letter from Paris

I want to start with a story about something illegal. Maybe I shouldn’t. But it’s one of my favorite memories. In the neighborhood where I grew up, in Southern California, there was this big development area. All these homes were being built on a massive empty plot of land and when I was nine, it might as well have been the biggest thing I’d ever seen. I was just getting into golf, and I had graduated from hitting bottle caps in the backyard, to real balls. So my dad would take me to this development, and we’d bring a mat, a few clubs and some balls. 

I can still picture it — the desert that stretched out into the horizon. Homes on either side, and just hundreds of yards of dirt. A good first driving range. I’d hit balls into the sunset, and my dad would watch. We’d hop in his car, drive through the brush and pick up as many balls as we could find. Then we’d do it again. 

Now I’m in Paris, getting ready to represent the U.S. at the Olympics. And that desert patch feels far away. But every time I pick a club, I can feel it. Because before the tournaments and the travel and the interviews and all that — I was just Rose. A weird kid who rode her bike around the neighborhood collecting rocks and petting every dog she could see. In a lot of ways, I’m still her, just the range this week at Le Golf National is a lot nicer than the dirt patch. 

I used to spend a lot of those days messing around the neighborhood with my brother, and I remember he was a huge Steph Curry fan. We were in SoCal but we loved watching him and the Warriors. He was, and is still is, such an incredible player. But as I got a bit older, the more I watched him, the more I realized what a great person he was, too. You could just tell from his interviews and online presence that he was a good family man, a caring teammate. 

And I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately — especially as somebody who’s getting to be in the same Olympics as Steph. Just how important it is to be a good person in society. How I want to be so much more than just the golfer some people might know me as.

I remember being a kid, probably not long after I started hitting balls in the desert, and I asked my coach, “When will I get a trophy?” That feeling of the result being everything … it’s a lot to handle no matter what age you are. Back then I really was just the golfer. I had my other things and my bike and my family and all that. But junior golf those days was intense. My dad and I would travel all over California and the rest of the country to play in tournaments and try to improve my world rank.

I’d come home from a few weeks away and I’d go into school and see my friends, and they’d have all these inside jokes that I didn’t understand. And at 15-, 16 years old, it was just such an isolating feeling. I think I missed that normalcy. Junior golf, in some ways, can be more exhausting than pro golf. My dad and I were working extremely hard to try and get me in a place where I could go to a good college and have a pro career. My mom didn’t know too much about the sport but she was always the first person I’d go to for a hug or a pep talk. We were a good team.

My parents didn’t really care about my grades or stress about my work ethic. They just wanted me to get my work done whenever and then go have fun. That was the big thing for them. They wanted me to enjoy my childhood as best as possible. And our bond was so strong that when it came time to go to college, I think I knew that I needed to become more independent.

Stanford was the perfect place for that. I remember going up to visit and just being so intimidated by the campus. It felt massive. I met Anne Walker there, our golf coach, and she made me feel like I was in the right place. And it was far enough from home that I felt I could do my own thing, that I could be myself as an individual. 

That group we had on our team, Coach Walker did such an amazing job of bringing us all together. Rachel Heck, my teammate and one of my closest friends still to this day, we were No. 1 and No. 2 in the World Amateur Golf Rankings. And I think some people might assume there was jealousy or a rivalry, but it just wasn’t like that. We pushed each other, yes. But our whole team was just so comfortable around one another.

So much of who I am today, as a person and as a pro golfer, is because of my time at Stanford. I’m so lucky to be able to call Michelle Wie West a friend. She’s a Stanford grad and has been a mentor to me. When I was talking to Coach Walker about turning pro, I had a lot of hesitations. I wanted to graduate. I wanted to keep playing with the team, keep growing as a person. And I ended up connecting with Michelle, and learning about her experience.

We were talking on the phone one day and she was chatting about how she turned pro and stayed in college to get her degree.

She said, “Why not do both?”

And I’m like, “.... Why not do both? You did that! I can do that!”

And she was like, “Exactly!!!”

And that was it.

Michelle Wie West, the best.

I turned pro not long after, and my first event was the Mizuho Americas Open. Michelle is the tournament host, so it was a really special week. Being able to play my first pro event in front of her and my friends and family was incredible. And then to win it? Beyond words really. It still feels surreal just to think about. But you know what’s funny, I remember I had to go right back to Stanford after for my final exams. The event was in New Jersey so after the win it was like, New York Stock Exchange to be there for the bell ringing, Good Morning America, all this other press and then bam, a stats exam back in California.

The last two years feel like a bit of blur, sometimes. But being here in Paris, putting on the USA gear, representing everyone back home? It’s really a grounding moment. I’m thankful to each person who helped me along the way. I’m excited to compete — to show the world who I am.

I will always be that little girl hitting balls into the desert, but the person I am now is so much more than that, too. 

And I can’t wait for you all to meet her. 

—Rose