Beyond the Ropes at The Open 2025: A Photographer’s Day at Royal Portrush
There are sporting events you watch.
And then there are sporting events you feel.
The Open Championship is firmly the latter — golf’s most ancient major, steeped in weather, history, myth, and the sheer unpredictability that only links golf can generate. And in 2025, as the tournament returned to Royal Portrush, the atmosphere felt different. Bigger. Wilder. More human.
For one day — practice day — I had the privilege of experiencing The Open from a perspective few ever see: inside the ropes, documenting the world’s best players through Nikon UK’s Beyond the Ropes programme.
This blog is a reflection on that experience, woven with the history of The Open, the legacy of Royal Portrush, and the context of a championship ultimately claimed by Scottie Scheffler — a win that now sits comfortably among golf’s modern milestones.
And, of course, it’s a visual diary of the quiet moments, the practice swings, the concentration, and the humanity behind a major championship week.
A Championship Born on the Links: A Brief History of The Open
The Open Championship began in 1860 at Prestwick in Scotland with just eight players. No grandstands, no global TV audience, no commercial spectacle — just men, clubs and wind. It is the oldest major in golf, and arguably the most character-defining.
What makes The Open unique is not just its age, but its personality.
It is a championship defined by:
weather that changes in minutes
landscapes shaped by nature, not architecture
crowds that understand both nuance and drama
traditions that still feel relevant, not dusty
Over the decades, The Open has become a study in resilience and creativity — a place where imagination matters as much as power, and where winning often requires surviving as much as performing.
There are sporting events with history.
And then there is The Open, where history feels alive.
Royal Portrush: A Course with Soul and Storm
Royal Portrush sits on the rugged coastline of Northern Ireland, carved into dunes and cliffs that feel almost prehistoric. It is one of the few courses outside mainland Britain to host The Open — first in 1951, dramatically again in 2019, and returning triumphantly in 2025.
Portrush is not a course you conquer.
It is one you negotiate with.
The greens are subtle and nervy.
The bunkers are brutal and deep.
The fairways twist with natural movement.
And the wind can change the meaning of a hole entirely.
Standing on those ancient dunes with a camera in hand, the first thought is not about photography.
It’s about scale — the landscape, the sky, the sound, the waiting weather.
There is something cinematic about Portrush.
It feels like a stage built for stories.
Practice Day: The Calm Before the Championship
Practice days at The Open are a world of their own — quieter, slower, more intimate.
Players walk with a slightly looser posture.
Caddies talk more.
Coaches hover.
Fans lean in.
Journalists hunt for whispers.
Children get close enough to see the grooves on a wedge.
From a photographic perspective, this is the day when humanity is most visible. The smiles are real, the frustration unrehearsed, the experiments obvious. Players try shots they’d never attempt in competition. They rehearse trajectories. They rehearse body language. They rehearse confidence.
And Nikon UK’s Beyond the Ropes access allows you to capture all the things the broadcast cameras miss:
The grip resets
the slow exhale
the eyes following a flight, only they can see
the huddled chats with coaches
the quiet walk between tees
the rhythm of a player settling into themselves
These are the photographs that tell the truth.
A Championship Won by Scottie Scheffler — A Modern Great at His Peak
Scottie Scheffler’s win at The Open 2025 felt both inevitable and astonishing — the kind of victory that confirms a career trajectory without ever feeling predictable.
Scheffler’s control, his emotional discipline, and his ability to problem-solve in real time now define the modern grand-champion archetype. His win at Portrush wasn’t loud; it wasn’t dramatic. It was clinical, composed, deeply intelligent golf.
For Portrush — a course that rewards patience and punishes ego — it felt fitting.
As one BBC commentator put it:
“Scheffler didn’t overpower Portrush. He understood it.”
Photographing the practice rounds, knowing who would eventually lift the Claret Jug, adds a layer of retrospective magic to the images. You start to recognise the early hints:
the tempo
the focus
the calm
the quiet certainty
Those details are visible on Monday. You just don’t know they matter until Sunday.
Documenting The Open: What I Tried to Capture
Throughout the day, my aim wasn’t to chase spectacle but to capture the subtler, more human story of practice day:
the unguarded moments
the gestures between competitors
the texture of the course
the complexity of the weather
the small communities that form in the galleries
the rhythm of concentration and ease
A major championship is not built on 72 holes of golf — it is built on thousands of tiny moments that lead up to them.
That’s what I wanted to document.
Those are the images that tell the story of being there.