Nick Dunlap made history at the Masters Tournament by scoring an 18 over par, landing him in last place and earning the dubious honor of being one of only 11 golfers to fail to break 90 in the first round.

Dunlap's disastrous debut at Augusta National, punctuated by seven bogeys and four doubles, places him not just in the record books, but also firmly on the social media radar as the relatable face of amateur struggles in professional golf. Despite being a rising star and a two-time PGA Tour winner, his score of 90+ has fans chuckling in solidarity, reminding everyone that even the pros have 'one of those days'—just with a much bigger audience.

Dunlap's performance was so far removed from par that you might think he was trying out for a new version of golf where the only goal is to visit as many sand traps as possible. As it turned out, he successfully checked that box seven times over, with a unique flair for adding doubles and triples to his scorecard like they were free samples at a grocery store. His round of 90 was particularly impressive for being 11 strokes behind even the most forgiving golfers on the leaderboard, suggesting perhaps that he had tagged along with a different set of friends than the rest of the competitors.

Being the first amateur to win a PGA Tour event in 33 years was almost like a cinematic triumph— the kind they make slow-motion montages of. However, at the Masters, Dunlap’s latest performance suddenly made him the poster child for a different kind of amateurism. Social media users were quick to rally around him, proudly labeling him as 'one of us', cementing his status as the biggest, albeit unintentional, fan of the sport's less glamorous moments. It was as if everyone suddenly felt the urge to dust off their old golf clubs and share their own worst rounds of golf, hoping to bask in the comforting glow of shared mediocrity.

Eager to prove that he could compete with the likes of the greats, Dunlap arrived at Augusta National with high hopes, but the reality was less of a championship-worthy round and more of a goodwill tour of the fluffy green stuff. His 18 over par included a charming array of self-inflicted missteps, making him just the 11th golfer in Masters history to fail to break 90 in the first round and the first in 10 years. It was both a record-breaking and spirit-lifting performance—record-breaking for the leaderboard and spirit-lifting for those who still think they can beat their buddies in a weekend scramble after several years away from the sport.

Looking at his finishing score compared to the worst official score in Masters history—Charlie Kunkle's 95 in 1956—one could argue that Dunlap has found himself a sweet spot of mediocrity, finishing just five shots better than an even more uninspired record. At least he can take solace in that; there’s a certain comfort in knowing that history has a way of flexing its absurd muscles, and two years from now, someone will likely forget that shooting above 90 was once an unconquerable feat—effectively ensuring that the only thing that will be remembered is the headline, not the score.

Dunlap's previous accolades—like being the youngest amateur to win a PGA Tour event since 1910—seem almost like a distant memory now. While that victory earlier this year at The American Express truly showcased his raw talent, his Masters outing struck a humorous contrast. It reminded everyone that golf, for all its well-manicured greens and aspirational resumes, can also be a cruel sport that rewards resilience just as much as skill. Dunlap’s Masters sojourn may stand as testament to the unpredictable nature of competitive play, with climaxes of triumph followed swiftly by moments of confounding failure.

Reflecting on Dunlap's journey, one can only hope he views this particular round at Augusta as an experience to learn from—or perhaps a routine check on the fragility of human ego when faced with great expectations. After all, even the best can falter occasionally; the key is to maintain humor and perspective, and if you can, make the anecdotes worth telling in hindsight. Forget the scorecard; the real victory will be when he eventually inspires a new generation of amateur golfers, one bad round at a time.