Mito Pereira – 2022 PGA Championship Collapse
Imagine standing on the brink of history, the final hole of a major championship, with one simple task left—make a par, and your name will forever be etched into golf legend. That was the exact position Mito Pereira found himself in at the 2022 PGA Championship. The 27-year-old Chilean wasn’t even expected to contend. Ranked 100th in the world and playing in only his second major ever, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. But over the course of 71 holes, Mito played like a man on a mission, showing the poise and shotmaking of a veteran. He had battled the nerves, held off surging challengers, and arrived at the 18th tee with a one-shot lead. Chileans held their breath. Golf fans leaned in. It wasn’t just about winning a major—it was about breaking through for a country that had never had a major champion.
But golf, as always, has a cruel sense of timing. Pereira took out his driver, hoping to simply get the ball in play. But the moment seemed too heavy, and the swing too tight. His tee shot veered hard right—way right—finding a narrow creek barely visible on TV, a hazard so obscure that many players didn’t even know it existed. The heartbreak wasn’t just in the shot—it was in the aftermath. Pereira scrambled, trying to recover, but the nerves had taken over. He made a double bogey. Just like that, the dream vanished. He didn’t even make the playoff. As Justin Thomas and Will Zalatoris prepared for a sudden-death finish, Pereira watched from the scoring tent, blank stare, the weight of what had just happened settling in.
In his post-round interview, he didn’t hide from it. He said, “I just wanted to put it in play… I guess I aimed too far right.” Simple words. Painfully human. It wasn’t a blowout or a slow crumble—it was one swing, one moment, and one cruel twist of fate. And that’s what makes it unforgettable. For Mito Pereira, it was more than a lost championship. It was a painful lesson in how quickly golf can turn—and how merciless it can be, even to the most deserving underdog.
Jordan Spieth – 2016 Masters Collapse
If there was ever a moment when time seemed to freeze and the golfing world collectively gasped, it happened on the back nine of Augusta National in 2016. Jordan Spieth, the golden boy of golf, the one who made the impossible look routine, was on the verge of making Masters history. At just 22 years old, Spieth had already won two majors and was defending his green jacket. What he was doing at Augusta was unheard of—leading for seven consecutive rounds. Not even Tiger Woods had done that. And on Sunday, as he made the turn with a five-shot lead, it felt like we were witnessing the birth of a dynasty.
But then… Augusta happened.
A bogey at the 10th? No big deal. Even great champions make a mistake. Another bogey at 11? Okay, maybe some nerves. But what came next on the 12th hole—Golden Bell, the infamous par-3 that has crushed dreams for decades—wasn’t just a mistake. It was a full-on implosion. Spieth stood on the tee box with a wedge in hand, needing just to find the middle of the green. But his shot came out nervy and short, finding Rae’s Creek. It was shocking—but things got worse. After the drop, his next shot? Also in the water. Panic had replaced poise. The usually steely Spieth now looked… broken. He dumped another into the bunker and stumbled away with a quadruple bogey 7.
In the span of just 30 minutes, Jordan Spieth had gone from leading the Masters by five shots to trailing by three. Let that sink in. This wasn’t a slow, four-hole unraveling like Adam Scott. It was a catastrophic collapse over just three holes. The speed, the magnitude, the setting—it all made it one of the most jaw-dropping meltdowns in the sport’s history. And yet, even after all of that, Spieth still fought back. He made birdies on 13 and 15, gave himself a shot, but it was too late. Danny Willett, calm and opportunistic, captured the green jacket—one Spieth had practically been fitted for just an hour earlier.
The post-round interview was heart-wrenching. Spieth didn’t deflect or blame conditions. He stood there, hat in hand, and owned every inch of the collapse. He even had to help Danny Willett put on the green jacket in Butler Cabin—a ritual normally reserved for defending champions. But now, the defending champion had become the tragic figure.
Golf is a sport that demands absolute focus, ice cold nerves, and the ability to handle pressure when everything is on the line. But no matter how skilled or experienced a player may be, the game has a way of exposing even the slightest crack. One swing, one putt, or one poor decision under pressure can turn a guaranteed victory into a crushing defeat. And when that happens, the entire world doesn’t just watch, it remembers. In this countdown, we’re revisiting the biggest collapses the game has ever seen. Number 10, Meito Pereira 2022 PGA Championship Collapse. Imagine standing on the brink of history, the final hole of a major championship with one simple task left. Make a par and your name will forever be etched into golf legend. That was the exact position Neo Pereira found himself in at the 2022 PGA Championship. The 27-year-old Chilean wasn’t even expected to contend. Ranked 100th in the world and playing in only his second major ever, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. But over the course of 71 holes, Mito played like a man on a mission, showing the poise and shotmaking of a veteran. He had battled the nerves, held off surging challengers, and arrived at the 18th T with a one-shot lead. Chileians held their breath. Golf fans leaned in. It wasn’t just about winning a major. It was about breaking through for a country that had never had a major champion. But golf, as always, has a cruel sense of timing. Pereira took out his driver, hoping to simply get the ball in play. But the moment seemed too heavy and the swing too tight. His T-shot veered hard right, way right, finding a narrow creek barely visible on TV, a hazard so obscure that many players didn’t even know it existed. The heartbreak wasn’t just in the shot. It was in the aftermath. Pereira scrambled trying to recover, but the nerves had taken over. He made a double bogey. Just like that, the dream vanished. He didn’t even make the playoff. As Justin Thomas and Willis prepared for a sudden death finish, Pereira watched from the scoring tent blank stare, the weight of what had just happened settling in. In his postround interview, he didn’t hide from it. He said, “I just wanted to put it in play. I guess I aimed too far right. Simple words, painfully human. It wasn’t a blowout or a slow crumble. It was one swing, one moment, and one cruel twist of fate. And that’s what makes it unforgettable. For Mito Pereira, it was more than a lost championship. It was a painful lesson in how quickly golf can turn. Number nine, Lexi Thompson, 2017 CME Group Tour Championship. Now, picture this. You’ve battled through an entire season, faced down controversy, and put yourself in position to win the final tournament of the year. Not only that, but a single routine two-foot putt stands between you and becoming the world number one in women’s golf. For Lexi Thompson in 2017, that wasn’t just a dream scenario. It was her reality. Standing on the final green at the CME Group Tour Championship, she wasn’t just putting for a title. That tiny distance, barely the length of a putter head, held the key to multiple career-defining rewards, player of the year, a $500,000 bonus, the number one world ranking, and a redemptive ending to a roller coaster season. But what came next was one of the most devastating and inexplicable chokes in golf history. It had already been an emotionally taxing year for Lexi. Earlier in the season during the ANA inspiration, she was penalized four strokes after a TV viewer noticed a rules infraction and called it in. Yes, a fan watching from home altered the outcome of a major championship. That bizarre moment cost her a major victory and scarred her emotionally, but Thompson didn’t crumble. Instead, she roared back, winning multiple tournaments and proving her resilience. By the time she arrived at the final hole of the season ending event, the narrative was clear. Lexi was redemption in motion. Then came the putt. Two feet. That’s it. Even weekend golfers expect to make those. The crowd held its collective breath. Already beginning to celebrate. The cameras zoomed in. Her putter made contact. The ball started online and then unthinkably it lipped out. A sharp gasp echoed through the gallery. Faces dropped. Broadcasters fell silent. In that fleeting moment, the season’s triumphs turned to turmoil. All the fight, all the resilience, all the redemption, undone by a two-foot miss. And the worst part, it wasn’t just a bad stroke. It was the sheer timing. It didn’t matter that she still earned the VE trophy for the season’s lowest scoring average or the $1 million bonus for winning the race to the CME Globe. That miss became the story. It wasn’t just about a short putt. It was about watching someone so tough, so talented, get undone by the game’s most brutal twist of fate. Lexi Thompson’s missed putt will forever serve as a gut-wrenching reminder. Number eight, Dustin Johnson, 2010 PGA Championship at Whistling Straits. When you think about cruel endings in golf, few stories carry as much disbelief as what happened to Dustin Johnson at the 2010 PGA Championship. It was the kind of moment that players dread. Not because of a missed shot, but because of a rule. And not just any rule, but a local rule buried in a tournament info sheet. DJ wasn’t just playing well. He was on the verge of winning his first major title. It was Sunday, the final hole at Whistling Straits, and Johnson was clinging to a one-shot lead. One solid par, and the major drought would be over. All he had to do was finish the hole like he’d done thousands of times before. Then came the fateful T-shot. It flew a little right. Nothing alarming, but landed in a patch of sand that looked more like a dirt path than a proper bunker. Thousands of spectators had trampled the area all week. Fans were literally standing in it. To Johnson and his caddy, it looked like a waste area, not a hazard. So DJ did what just about any golfer would do. He grounded his club, took his shot, and walked toward what he thought was a playoff. The crowd cheered. The broadcasters hyped the moment. He had done it, forced his way into extra holes, still with a shot at glory. But then came the officials. Before Johnson could even walk off the green, he was approached by tournament staff. A violation had occurred. That sandy patch, it was technically a bunker. Not visually, not practically, but officially. There had been a local rule that week stating that every sandy area on the course, whether inside the ropes or not, was to be treated as a bunker. That detail had been printed on a notice in the locker room. And because Johnson had grounded his club in a bunker, it was a two-stroke penalty. Just like that, he went from playoff hopeful to tied for fifth. The shock was immediate. Johnson stood frozen. Cameras captured his face shifting from triumph to confusion to devastation. No one watching could believe it. It wasn’t a swing error or a mental lapse. It was a rulebook technicality that blindsided one of the game’s brightest stars. In the press room afterward, DJ was asked if he had read the rule sheet. His reply was painfully honest. No, I didn’t. I didn’t think I was in a bunker. It became one of golf’s most infamous rulings, not just for its absurdity, but for its timing. Johnson’s collapse wasn’t about choking. It was about being betrayed by a rule no one remembered until it was too late. Number seven, Phil Mickelson. 2006 US Open at Winged Foot. There are collapses in golf that sting. And then there’s Phil Mickelson’s 2006 US Open finish. An implosion so dramatic, so headscratching, it left fans and commentators in collective disbelief. This wasn’t just a blown lead. This was Phil Mickelson, already a multipletime major winner, standing one hole away from conquering the one major that had always eluded him. The US Open had been his white whale. He’d come close so many times only to fall short by inches or single strokes. But now on the 72nd hole at winged foot, Lefty was finally in control. All he needed was a par. Just four clean shots. Nothing heroic. Just finish like a champion and the national championship was his. But Phil had never been one to play it safe. With a one-shot lead on the tea, most players would have grabbed a long iron or a 3-wood, anything to keep the ball in play. But not Mickelson. He pulled driver. It was vintage Phil, aggressive, bold, and risky. The gallery leaned in, nervously excited, and then the swing. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t safe either. The ball flew left, clipping a hospitality tent and bouncing into deep rough. The crowd gasped. From there, things spiraled. Phil had no clean shot to the green, but instead of playing out safely, he went for it again, another risky choice. His second shot struck a tree and dropped straight down. Now in full damage control, his third landed in a greenside bunker. And suddenly the dream was crumbling in real time. From potential champion to scrambling for bogey in a flash. When the dust finally settled, Mickelson had made a double bogey. Not only did he lose the tournament, he didn’t even make a playoff. Number six, Greg Norman. 1986 major season collapse. The Saturday slam. If there’s ever been a golf season that defines the agony of coming close but falling short, it belongs to Greg Norman in 1986. The great white shark didn’t just flirt with history. He stared it down in all four major championships. That year, Norman did something unprecedented. He led every single major heading into the final round. It became known as the Saturday Slam, a quirky nickname that hinted at potential glory. But when Sunday rolled around, history had other plans. And what could have been the most dominant season in major championship lore turned into a living nightmare of near misses, bad luck, and heartbreak. The unraveling began at the Masters. Norman had positioned himself to force a playoff with Jack Nicholas. With a perfect lie in the 18th fairway and just a mid-iron in hand, it was his moment to seize, but the pressure weighed heavy. His approach sailed right, just a little too much, and found trouble. The resulting bogey ended his chances. Nicholas, already a legend, won his final major, while Norman was left to replay that shot over and over in his mind. Number five, Adam Scott, 2012 Open Championship collapse. If there’s one collapse that felt like watching a slow motion car crash you couldn’t look away from, it was Adam Scott at the 2012 Open Championship. This wasn’t a case of a player losing his swing or suffering a single catastrophic hole. No, this was different. This was a steady unraveling, a perfectly controlled performance turning into a nightmare over the course of just four holes. At Royal Life and St. Anis, Scott had done everything right. He had the look of a champion all week. Smooth swing, calm demeanor, confident putting stroke, and with four holes to play, he held a commanding four-shot lead. The clarit jug was within reach. It was supposed to be his coronation. Then came hole 15, a bogey. Not the end of the world, but a warning shot. He still had a three-shot cushion. Then the 16th, another bogey. The tension started building. The announcer’s tone shifted. Fans leaned closer to the screen. Two-shot lead. Still manageable. Then the 17th, a third consecutive bogey. Now it was one. A once insurmountable lead was hanging by a thread. And Ernie Ells, who had long since finished his round, was suddenly back in contention. He had posted a final round 68 and while he had hoped for second place at best, the leaderboard began shifting in his favor with every missed fairway and nervy putt from Scott. As Scott walked to the 18th T, the entire mood of the tournament had changed. The confident swagger was gone, replaced by the burden of expectation and self-doubt. He still led by one, but the aura was gone. His drive found a fairway bunker, and even though he made a heroic attempt to recover, the damage had already been done. He missed his par putt, bogeying for the fourth straight hole. That final stumble meant L’s, who had assumed second place was his, was suddenly the open champion. Number four, Dustin Johnson, 2015 US Open at Chambers Bay. Dustin Johnson has always been a golfer with unmatched physical gifts, an effortless swing, towering drives, and a calm demeanor that made him look unshakable. But in 2015 at the US Open held at the bizarre and bumpy Chambers Bay course, he found himself at the center of one of the most shocking finishes in major championship history. This wasn’t just a collapse. It was a 30-second gut punch, the kind that leaves a permanent scar on a player’s legacy. And it all happened when he had the tournament in the palm of his hand. Let’s set the scene. Johnson had just bombed a perfect T-shot on the 72nd hole. Then he followed it up with a beautiful approach. long, pure, and straight to just 12 ft from the pin. That putt, it was for Eagle. Make it and he wins the US Open outright. Two putts would tie Jordan Speath and force a playoff. Everyone watching assumed DJ had it. His game was strong all day. He looked composed. The moment felt like it belonged to him, but that’s when the unthinkable happened. His first putt wasn’t his best. It rolled a solid 4 ft past the hole. Still, most assumed it was a formality. Johnson had been solid from short range all day. But in a moment that instantly became part of golf floor, the comebacker slid past the right edge of the cup without ever threatening to drop. A par would have meant extra holes. Number three, Greg Norman. 1996 Masters collapse. When people talk about the most iconic collapses in golf history, one name always floats to the top. Greg Norman at the 1996 Masters. This wasn’t just a player losing a tournament. This was the complete unraveling of a legend in front of millions. It was emotional, unforgettable, and at times hard to watch. Norman wasn’t some no-name underdog. He was the great white shark, one of the most dominant players of his era. Known for his power, his confidence, and his unmistakable flare. And at Augusta in 1996, it seemed like he was finally about to erase years of painful near misses at the Masters with a career-defining victory. He entered the final round with a six-shot lead. Let that sink in. In Masters history up to that point, no player had ever lost such a massive Sunday advantage. Norman had blitzed the field over the first three rounds and looked nearly invincible. His lead was so large that the broadcasters began talking about his legacy in the middle of the round. Fans were already imagining what the green jacket would look like on him. But the one thing golf never allows, comfort. And Augusta National, it’s a cruel arena when you start to get too comfortable. The trouble didn’t come all at once. It started slowly, innocently. A missed putt here, a weward drive there. At first, the lead shrank to five, then to four. But as the pressure mounted and Norman’s rhythm started to unravel, his playing partner, Nick Faldo, began to smell blood in the water. Faldo didn’t make any spectacular shots. He simply didn’t make mistakes. Meanwhile, Norman’s game began to collapse like a sand castle meeting high tide. On the back nine, things got tragic. Double bogeies, missed greens, bad decisions. You could see it in his posture. His once famous strut had turned into a slow, defeated trudge. By the time they reached the 18th green, the six-shot lead had not only vanished, it had flipped. Norman shot a 78. Faldo shot 67. The final result, a five-stroke loss. Number two, Rory Mroy, 2011 Masters implosion. If there’s a collapse that felt like a coming of age story gone horribly wrong, it was Rory Mroyy’s 2011 Masters meltdown. He wasn’t a grizzled veteran or a journeyman trying to cash in on one magical week. He was a 21-year-old phenom full of talent, promise, and boyish charm. Heading into Sunday, Rory wasn’t just leading, he was dominating. A four-shot cushion at Augusta National. That’s supposed to be the dream. And for the first three rounds, Mroy looked like he was living in a video game. Bogeyree 65, calm in clinical 69, then a 70 in Saturday’s pressure cooker. The coronation felt inevitable. Fans were ready to witness the rise of golf’s next generational superstar. But the final round of a major, especially at Augusta, doesn’t care about fairy tales. Things started going sideways, but subtly. A shaky front nine, a missed fairway, a nervy putt. It wasn’t catastrophic, but the edge was gone. And then came the 10th hole. What happened there flipped the entire narrative from Rory the champion to Rory the cautionary tale. His T-shot veered wildly left, not just into the rough, but into uncharted territory. His ball came to rest between two cabins. Yes, cabins. Even the TV crew didn’t know how to show it. Their cameras had never shown that part of Augusta before. Number one, Jordan Spe 2016 Masters collapse. If there was ever a moment when time seemed to freeze and the golfing world collectively gasped, it happened on the back nine of Augusta National in 2016. Jordan Speath, the golden boy of golf, the one who made the impossible look routine, was on the verge of making Mast’s history. At just 22 years old, Spith had already won two majors and was defending his green jacket. What he was doing at Augusta was unheard of, leading for seven consecutive rounds. Not even Tiger Woods had done that. And on Sunday, as he made the turn with a five-shot lead, it felt like we were witnessing the birth of a dynasty. But then Augusta happened. A bogey at the 10th. No big deal. Even great champions make a mistake. Another bogey at 11. Okay, maybe some nerves. But what came next on the 12th hole, Golden Bell, the infamous par three that has crushed Dreams for decades, wasn’t just a mistake. It was a full-on implosion. Spe stood on the T- box with a wedge in hand, needing just to find the middle of the green. But his shot came out nervy and short, finding Ray’s creek. It was shocking, but things got worse. After the drop, his next shot also in the water. Panic had replaced Poise. The usually steely Spath now looked broken. He dumped another into the bunker and stumbled away with a quadruple bogey 7. And that’s why Spath’s 2016 Masters collapse isn’t just the worst in history, it’s the most humanizing. It reminded us that even the most brilliant athletes are still vulnerable to pressure, to nerves, to the ghosts that haunt the back nine at Augusta.
