The Misunderstood Life of Grayson Murray
In the painful aftermath of Grayson Murray’s suicide, the people who loved him describe a man with immense talent, a kind heart and a burden he couldn’t shed
The bedroom is filled with reminders of who Grayson Murray was and wanted to be. A black case in the corner holds the Sony Open trophy. Self-help books press against his tattered Bible on a nightstand. A canvassed painting of the family’s dogs sits across from a framed autographed photo of Arnold Palmer and Tiger Woods. On the comforter are two unpacked boxes of programs from his funeral.
Grayson spent a lot of time in his bedroom. He had his own condo in Jupiter, Florida, but preferred to be in his hometown of Raleigh, North Carolina, tattooing the city’s area code on his arm, “9-1-9.” It was here, where the suburbs bleed into the countryside, that Grayson would retreat when the darkness rolled in, shutting himself off for days.
He tried to mask the depression and was frequently glued to his phone sending messages of encouragement to those at the Betty Ford Clinic or recovering addicts: I know it’s not easy. Keep at it. You’re not alone. Unfortunately, Grayson couldn’t extend himself the same grace.
The last time he was home was May 5. Grayson took the six steps from his bed to the living room couch and sat with his father, Eric. The two men cried as Grayson admitted, “I don’t want to be here anymore.” The following day, he headed up the road to Charlotte for the PGA Tour’s Wells Fargo Championship. He delivered one of his best performances of the year with a tie for 10th.
Twelve days later, Grayson Murray went into his Florida rental and didn’t come out. He was 30 years old.
His mom, Terry, stands in the empty bedroom alongside her husband and pulls out a photo from fifth grade. Her boy is with a friend, the two dressed in Halloween costumes with an inscription from an 11-year-old Grayson: “I’m going to be a professional golfer when I grow up.”
Eric and Terry understand what the golf world thought of Grayson, the guy whose talent and heart was occasionally obscured by the missteps made online and in real life. They know the truth, which is far more complicated. There were days when Grayson would zip up his black hoodie and try to keep the world out because that world was too much for him. It’s a struggle faced by millions yet one widely misunderstood. It’s why the Murrays need to share Grayson’s story.
His game was never in doubt. At 16, he was the second-youngest person to make a cut on the then-Nationwide Tour. He was the second player behind Tiger Woods to win the prestigious Junior World three consecutive years.
The knock on Grayson Murray was his play was overshadowed by his behavior. He had a temper, a reputation for throwing and breaking clubs, but what some saw as brash could also be explained by anxiety. Grayson didn’t like the attention that came with winning, once telling his dad he was more comfortable finishing in the top 10. The problem grew in his teenage years.
Grayson was such a perfectionist, he once worked on a school project for two weeks, only to toss it before it was due because he deemed it unsatisfactory. His instructor Ted Kiegiel, who also coaches Webb Simpson and Chesson Hadley, recalls Grayson gave up baseball because he was tired of his team’s first baseman dropping the ball, at one point running from second to first to make the out himself.
“He was passionate,” says Grayson’s sister, Erica. “It was always directed at himself, though. He never purposefully tried to upset anyone.”
At an early age Grayson put an inordinate emphasis on golf. When his uncle would invite him to putt in the garage, he would fully dress in his golf outfit. There was the time he ran into a group of N.C. State golfers at nearby Wildwood Green G.C., who were astonished by the shots this stout middle-schooler was hitting. Grayson explained, “Well, this is my job.”
Leave a Reply