A dragon re-emerges: Chinese golfer Haotong Li's stunning return could rewrite golf history

Economic Times

2 days ago

After making another birdie putt with surgical precision, his fifth on Friday, Haotong Li let a nice smile escape his sharp jawline. It was as much as sign of joy as it was of relief. Since his emergence in 2016, Li has been riding a roller coaster — rising to 32nd in the world, only to suffer a precipitous collapse outside the top 500 on the OWGR. By the Antrim coast this week, we could be witness to a dragon's re-emergence.
Li is just two strokes behind Scottie Scheffler through 36 holes. A good weekend might be the rousing catharsis of a journey dotted with wild success but dented by a wrist injury, loss of form and a downswing in motivation. Li made a great start to the Open.
A steady 67 earned him a share of the lead in the opening round of the 153rd Open at Royal Portrush. The front nine on Friday was impeccable. Three birdies meant that he got out of the gates with a nice 33. At the tenth, though, he pulled his tee shot into the sticky rough, the ball settling on the down slope of a mound looking away from the hole. Somehow, Li produced the kind of magic that stoked excitement about his potential. Playing out of the thick stuff, Li sent it sailing to the pin, leaving himself less than five feet for birdie. A couple of holes later, Li owned the solo lead, even if momentarily. At 9-under through 30 holes, Li was laying the bricks for a glorious week in Portrush. As he left the 12th green, full of confidence and joy, Li surely sensed the gravity of a massive weekend in his career.
No Asian golfer has ever won the Claret Jug. There is still so much golf left to be played, but if the first two rounds are any indication, Li must feel like a predator with the big prey in his sight. Li rose to international fame with a rousing 63 at Royal Birkdale in 2017. The third-place finish cemented tales of his prowess, accentuating his early success on the Asian and European circuits.
That day, Haotong seemed destined for permanence. In 2018, he held off a stiff challenge from Rory McIlroy to win the Dubai Desert Classic by one stroke. The world of golf felt that Li had both the skill and temperament for a glorious career. In 2019, he played two rounds with Tiger Woods and Jon Rahm at the Masters. Quietly, he towered over even the game's boldest talkers. But the game gives and it takes. The following years unravelled. Injury, invisible at first, wore at his frame and swing. There is sparse detail in official records, but, as with many athletes, the struggle described in clinical parlance — loss of form, recurring doubt, the stubborn ache of missed cuts — can be more insidious than torn muscle. His mind dissolved into distress at the disharmony caused by the fragility in his wrist. From 2019 through 2022, he drifted. Three missed cuts at The Open — 2019, 2021 and 2022 — signalled a talent's downward trajectory. Rankings slipped. On the DP World Tour and, occasionally, the PGA Tour, his name circled lower on the leaderboard. The emotional contours follow well-established themes from sport psychology literature: self-doubt, anxiety about re-injury, a faltering sense of autonomy and competence, sometimes even a withdrawal of identity from the sport itself. After all, who wouldn't suffer an existential dilemma after making two cuts in 22 starts.
Li hit rock bottom in 2023, even contemplating retirement. But humble roots, a strong family and a good team have helped Li climb out of the abyss. Victory at the Qatar Masters in February offered a fresh gust of hope for the 29-year-old. Yet, the cycle of athletic struggle is rarely linear and almost never final. Li never stopped working. He became known among European Tour regulars for his tireless ethic —staying back after a missed cut to drill, alone, at dusk. And now, Royal Portrush. Two rounds completed, Li sits at T3, 8-under—the same score as Brian Harman, only one back of Matt Fitzpatrick, and another stroke from Scheffler. His golf has been surgical. Two consecutive rounds of 67, marked by poise and patience, with nine birdies and a lone bogey during Friday's bitter wind. The context sharpens this story. Li is not just chasing a Claret Jug for himself, but for history. No golfer from China has ever won The Open. His final-round 63 at Royal Birkdale remains the nation's high-water mark in men's majors — not even his own extraordinary ascent has yet eclipsed it. After years spent wandering the sport's hinterland, his name feels like the return of something lost: possibility, stature, perhaps even redemption. This week is about more than just a leaderboard position.
It is an articulation of struggle, resilience, and hope—intimate yet also culture bending. In a sport where national archetypes dominate, Li embodies the subtle refusal of boundaries: not only the first, but the one who returns. You can see him on that green. Quiet, resolved, smiling at the memory of failure. Behind him, a continent — parents, millions watching in early-morning Shanghai, young Chinese golfers shadowing each swing. And ahead, the long, shining arc of a weekend at Royal Portrush: nothing certain, everything possible.