The Wright Stuff

Michael Wright surveyed the desert on the 72nd hole of Champions Tour Q school at TPC Scottsdale. His ball was resting on hard, dusty ground. Wright removed stones from around the ball with the focus and care of a neurosurgeon. He was 122 yards from the hole with water lurking four paces left of the flag.

Wright, 49, from Brisbane, Australia, was in a four-way tie for second, one shot off the lead and one shot from dropping outside the top five – the number of players who would secure status on the Champions Tour for 2024. After 25 years of battling to keep his dream alive on poorly funded tours around the globe, he was staring at the biggest opportunity of his career. As the wind gusted gently in his face, Wright discussed strategy with caddie Guy Elliot, an Australian friend who has caddied for Wright often in the past four years.

“We’re aiming this 10 feet right of the flag,” Wright remembers Elliot saying. “If I hit it in the water it’s goodnight – we’re going home.” 

To a spectator, the shot looked like a potential collapse in the making. Wright had just flared his tee shot on the par-4 home hole of the Champions Course into the desert and under a tree. He had a swing, but the lie was unpredictable and he couldn’t see his target. 

Elliot checked the leaderboard and knew the situation—his man needed a par at the last. Wright didn’t want to know where he stood, but he trusted Elliot when he suggested they play a safe shot back to the fairway. The second shot, however, never made it out of the desert and now Wright’s tournament was on the line.

“It was 112 meters into a puff of breeze,” Wright says. “I had to flatten it out to control it. When the conditions get tough, that’s when I shine.”

Because he plays best in difficult, windy conditions, Wright always believed his game would excel on the European Tour, but the cost of the travel and Q school always held him back. This had been the story of his career.

“I had the game,” Wright says, “but the funds just weren’t there.”

Wright set off to play professionally in 1999 without expectations but with the hope he could reach his potential. His first year playing in Australia, he went to 13 Monday qualifiers and made it through 11 times. In those 11 starts, however, he made only a single cut. While he showed potential during his introduction to the professional game, it was also an introduction to the financial hardship that comes with chasing a dream.

Wright estimates he has been to a dozen Q schools around Asia and Australia, but never earned full status. His most successful bids left him with partial or conditional status. 

“I would consider myself a bit of an underachiever,” Wright says. “I haven’t produced the kind of results you’d expect given how I play. I’ve never had the opportunity to play a full schedule on a main tour.”

Wright counts his proudest golf achievements as qualifying twice for the Open Championship: in 2006 at Royal Liverpool and in 2009 at Turnberry. At Royal Liverpool, Wright came to the back nine of the second round on the cut line, but back-to-back bogeys on 12 and 13 derailed his chances to play the weekend. 

“A couple opportunities did arise where I had the chance to win and didn’t,” Wright says. “But I never had the opportunity to play a full schedule where I could play into form. That consistency of playing at a high level week after week is how you get good.”

In 2010, Wright had a chance to break through and win the Thailand Open on the OneAsia Tour, only to fall one stroke shy. His runner-up finish in the event with a $180,000 purse was the most lucrative of his career, earning him more starts around Asia. 

Steve Allan is a professional golfer from Melbourne, Australia who recently turned 50, lives in the Scottsdale area and has 214 PGA Tour starts to his credit. When he lost his status in 2011, Allan returned to Australia and began playing events on the OneAsia Tour, where he first met “Wrighty.” Over the past year, the two messaged each other often about the details of Champions Tour Q school and how they would prepare for it. Of the five players who earned Champions Tour cards this year, four were Australian, Allan among them.

“He’s got a good game,” Allan says of Wright. “We played a practice round with Wrighty at Stage 1. We had a little birdie game, and he won the game. Then he came out for that first round and had seven or eight under and was at the top of the leaderboard all week. He’s one of those guys who never got on the U.S. Tour or the European Tour, but you’d go home and play with him and be pretty impressed.”

With a wife and two young sons at home, Wright was traveling often and scraping by. The family had a three-week rule: Wright could never be gone for more than three weeks at a time. He strictly adhered to the rule, but the family was making sacrifices so Wright could continue the chase. The bank account was often dangerously low, leading Wright to consider whether his professional pursuit was realistic.

“The bank accounts were just dry,” Wright says. “We’re walking to the store to get milk to save money on fuel because we couldn’t afford to fill the fuel tank up. I’ve got a wife, two kids and a mortgage. I don’t know how my wife does it.”

Although financial hardships strained his relationships, Wright played his best when times were tough. He would always find a way to earn a check, buying himself more time. 

“Back in Australia we have a few really good tournaments with some prize money, but there’s only a few of them,” says Allan. “So in a lot of the other tournaments the prize money is pretty small with quality players. It’s really hard work to make money.” 

One moment that tested Wright’s resolve came after his family had spent its last dollar. Wright borrowed money to get to a four-ball tournament in Australia. He played impressively and won an Alfa Romeo. He sold the car to pay off his debts and kept the dream alive.

“When my back’s been to the wall I’ve come up clutch,” Wright says. “It’s weird. Mainly because I want it so much. I’m so hungry. I’ve had to skimp and save and I want it so bad.”

Many of Wright’s colleagues have quit, retired or taken jobs. Others haven’t performed their best with their careers hanging in the balance, or been lucky enough to have a supportive family.

“There’s a lot of guys in my position who have dropped off,” he says. “There aren’t many who are still standing. That’s what made that emotion come out the other day.”

Those 25 years led to the 122-yard third shot on the cut line at Champions Tour Q school. Wright developed a habit during his career of stepping through shots after impact, like Gary Player. It was a habit he had tried to kick, but when he feels pressure and there is trouble left, Wright reverts to his old standby.

“My balance went way forward on that shot because I knew I could not hit that ball left,” Wright says. “I had the ball way back in my stance because I couldn’t hit that ball fat. All of these things are going a million miles an hour subconsciously.” 

Wright made contact and walked through the shot. The desert dust scattered around him and the ball flew like a dart at the flag.

“It’s got eyes for the flag only,” Wright says. “It takes one bounce and disappears. It was a shock, and we went nuts. It was two weeks of emotion built up that just exploded. That one moment was just incredible.”

The celebration by Wright and Elliot was electric. Their feet barely touched the ground as they joyfully floated to the green reveling in the greatest shot of Wright’s life. Wright snatched his ball out of the hole, hugged Elliot and signed his card in a dreamlike state. 

For 10 minutes there was the possibility that with a couple of birdies, players behind Wright could force a playoff. When it was official that he had secured his 2024 Champions Tour privileges – the first time he had earned full status on any Tour through qualifying – Wright crouched down behind the 18th green, the moment overwhelming him.

“I’m just trying to compute what’s going on,” Wright recalls. “It was a surreal moment. A proud moment. It was a moment I’ll never forget. You have no idea how many times I’ve watched that moment over and over. It brings…” Wright pauses as he chokes back emotion. “My guts churn with pride.” 

After flying home to Brisbane to celebrate with his family, which has sacrificed so much, Wright started thinking about the opportunity ahead – the greatest of his life.

“It was meant to be last week,” Wright says. “It really was. Just a fairytale for me.” 

After a quarter century of struggle, Wright is savoring the moment and ready to work harder than ever. He’ll turn 50 in February and play as a rookie on the Champions Tour. 

His fairytale is still being written.