Golf's Major Championships

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Ryan Peake. Name was familiar, but --- Wow, that is a tremendous read with all sort of relatable life situations and conditions for so many woven through it. The depression for one, and not knowing where it comes from, just that it is there. The camaraderie of the gang. And the harshness of Australian prisons which sadly mirror more the punishment ethos of most of the American system rather than the much more successful rehabilitation projects in some other countries. And just how tough the road into pro golf at the top is for so many. The mental strength required on top of extraordinary physical skill. Would be the same in all other of the more individual competitor sports of course. And the no-punches-pulled good writing. Just the facts, ma'am. It's a super story. Thanks heaps. Some little extra, then excerpts:

A Good story from your homeland, this guy is making it Bigly....

Open Championship 2025: Ryan Peake receives dream group at Portrush, Aussie tee-times AEST

By Evin Priest

The feel-good story of the Open Championship just got better with Ryan Peake given a dream grouping alongside his left-handed idol, Phil Mickelson at Royal Portrush.

Peake, the former outlaw motorcyle gang member who won the New Zealand Open .. https://www.australiangolfdigest.com.au/ryan-peake-not-his-peake/ [that story below].. to earn a start at his debut major this week will off with six-time major winner and 2013 Open champion Mickelson at 7:19am on Thursday (4:19pm Thursday, AEST) and 12:20pm (9.20pm, AEST) on Friday.

British Open 2025: The incredible story of Ryan Peake, a former gang member and convict—and the most unlikely golfer competing at Royal Portrush

How this former gang member and convict turned his life around and is now making his major debut

Despite lacking discipline during practice sessions, Peake’s talent was sufficient for junior golf. He generated astonishing power with a quick, compact swing—imagine a left-handed Jon Rahm merged with a lumberjack’s swipe. He played with abandon, prioritizing spectacular, improbable shots over course management, and thrived on competitive pressure. He was distinguished by both his physical prowess and an inclination to not defer to golf’s stuffier traditions.

“As a teacher, you care for all your students. But, boy, I loved Peakey because so many golfers … they are all sort of the same,” Ritchie says. “Peakey? He was his own self, treated everyone great, the most lovable guy. Some of the kids coming up act like golf is a job and shut people out. Peakey never let golf get in the way of humanity.”

'It’s a tough life, being a bikie. I think they saw an opportunity for one of their own to better themselves.'

[...]

Peake was crushed by his failure of those who had invested in him—his parents, coach and the Lakelands members whose support now felt like an unbearable weight. He drank—a lot. His once-athletic 200-pound frame ballooned toward 300, a physical manifestation of his internal collapse. He ricocheted between manual labor jobs—working in mines, plastering walls, laying bricks and mixing concrete.

Amid the wreckage of his former aspirations, one light emerged. The Rebels’ leadership had relented, and at age 21, Peake received his full patch signifying membership. “Where I was at that stage in my life, it was the only thing that brought me comfort,” Peake says. “I felt like I belonged.”


Peake acknowledges the stigma surrounding the Rebels. He doesn’t defend every action in the club’s history but insists it bears little resemblance to Hollywood portrayals of biker gangs. He refuses to criticize those who sheltered him during his darkest hours, but he pauses, contemplating that pivotal decision to join and its consequences.

“My life had fallen into depression. I lost all self-esteem. I didn’t know who I was, lost all direction in my life. What happened … I can’t say it was just one night, one mistake. It was years of build-up.”

[...]

Time moves slowly inside, Peake says. His focus was on stacking days together until they became weeks, and weeks until they became months. In 2017, two-and-a-half years into his sentence, the prison televisions broadcast Cameron Smith claiming the Australian PGA Championship. When some inmates discovered this was Peake’s friend and former teammate, they needled him about resuming his career upon release. Peake dismissed this with a laugh. Perhaps he’d play socially again, but the pro dream was dead.

Shortly after, Peake received an unexpected letter containing only Ritchie Smith’s name and contact information.

“I’ve made some crappy phone calls in my life, but this was the most nervous I’ve ever been,” Peake says. “He’s one of the best coaches in the world, and I’m just some bikie in jail … But as soon as I heard his voice, I was calm. He’s the most chilled-out person in the world.”

“I had lost touch with Peakey after he left golf and didn’t know what happened to him,” Ritchie says. “That’s not the person I knew. I called because I was genuinely worried about him. He’s a good kid. He just fucked up.”

They started speaking regularly. Peake talked about trying to learn a trade for when he got out, but Ritchie had another suggestion. “I said, ‘What about giving golf another go?’ I felt like this guy needed something to look forward to, something where he could be his best self.”

Peake was interested, but first he had to make things right with the Rebels.

Membership in an outlaw motorcycle club is understood as a lifelong commitment. Those attempting to leave have faced violent repercussions and worse. Peake felt confident that his closest supporters would back him, but knew there were others in the hierarchy who would need to be persuaded. Peake determined that if Ritchie Smith—famous for coaching Minjee Lee to three women's major wins—still recognized potential in him, the effort was justified. He requested a formal meeting with Rebels leadership inside the prison. “I said, ‘I know this sounds stupid, but this coach teaches some of the top-ranked golfers in the world, and he thinks I can still make it as a professional. I want to take this path.’ I was worried because I didn’t want them to think I was disloyal, but I felt like I owed it to all the people around me, and myself, to try.”

To his surprise, he never received so many handshakes and hugs in one sitting. His youth might have had something to do with it, or maybe the Rebels saw what Ritchie saw. “It’s a tough life, being a bikie,” Peake says. “I think they saw an opportunity for one of their own to better themselves. They were all telling me this could be my last chance. Go earn it.”

Your - https://www.golfdigest.com/story/british-open-2025-ryan-peake-former-gang-member-convict-royal-portrush

The fact he is known as Peakey speaks volumes too. Best to Ryan, more than many, he deserves all the good he gets.

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