Sometimes Lydia Ko likes to imagine the future — what kind of career she’ll have, what dreams she’ll chase in her 30s. She could see herself in psychology, a subject she’s been studying for two years, or maybe criminology. She thinks she’d be good at solving mysteries. Interior design and architecture also appeal to her. She looks giddy as she describes the blank canvas in front of her.
Almost none of her plans, 10 years from now, involve the game of golf.
“I’ll probably play some odd golf here or there, maybe play for $100 or something with a friend,” Ko says.
It’s strange — at first — to hear Ko talk like this. We’re having dinner at The Bridge, one of the poshest country clubs in the Hamptons, during the LPGA offseason. She’s agreed to chat about what it’s like to be 20 years old and more accomplished than Tiger Woods was at the same age.
But as she nibbles on a langostino appetizer, it becomes clear Ko has already given plenty of thought to the end, even as she’s barely finished the beginning. She wants to retire at 30.
“I started playing golf when I was 5,” Ko says. “I think 25 years in the game is a good round number.”
Ko has made comments like this before, but they sound different now, during the worst slump of her career. Last season she failed to win a tournament. After holding the No. 1 ranking for 85 straight weeks and 104 weeks overall, she’s now fallen out of the top 10. In that time, she changed coaches twice, caddies three times, and switched equipment from Callaway to PXG.
If you’re a once-in-a-generation athletic talent, what does it mean when you’re already thinking about an exit plan? While Ko’s reputation as one of the most joyful golfers is well-earned, over the past year some of that joy has faded. It seems she’s already getting worn down by a game notorious for chewing up young prodigies.
Is it just a blip, likely to self-correct over time? Or is Ko’s remarkable career dangerously adrift? When she tees it up in California on Thursday for the ANA Inspiration — the LPGA’s first major championship of the year and the site of arguably her most impressive win — the question will weigh heavily: What’s wrong with Lydia?
To understand the weight of that question, you have to understand just how dominant Ko was. No one in golf history accomplished more as a teenager. Not Woods, Nicklaus, or Sorenstam. She wasn’t just a prodigy — she seemed destined to rewrite the LPGA’s history.
At 15, Ko became the youngest-ever winner on the LPGA Tour at the CN Canadian Women’s Open, a title she would win twice before turning pro. She became the youngest person ever to hold the No. 1 world ranking at 17. By 19, she’d won two majors and a silver medal at the Olympics.
“She had that X-factor,” says David Leadbetter, Ko’s swing coach for three years. “Nobody has had a start like Lydia. Even Tiger.”
Ko didn’t overpower courses or intimidate opponents. She’s 5-foot-5, not particularly muscular, and didn’t have a picturesque swing. Yet, her genius was evident in her short game. Her rhythm, tempo, and finesse allowed her to torment longer hitters with remarkable consistency.
“She made it look easy,” says Sorenstam. “She could repeat her swing under pressure. From 150 yards in, she was deadly.”
Ko’s gift was discovered early. Born in Seoul, her parents weren’t golfers. But the rise of Se Ri Pak in Korea inspired a wave of enthusiasm for the sport. An aunt gave Ko a 7-iron at age 5. After one visit to a driving range, she was hooked. Her parents soon moved her to New Zealand.
Ko didn’t speak English at first, but her mother signed her up for three golf lessons a week at Pupuke Golf Club. Her coach, Guy Wilson, focused on her short game. She would chip balls for hours, then do cartwheels during breaks.
From her Korean roots, Ko inherited discipline and work ethic. From her Kiwi upbringing, she gained a relaxed temperament perfect for golf. Her talent and mindset formed a rare combination that soon led to amateur dominance. The LPGA even waived its rule requiring players to be 18 before turning pro.
Ko once responded bluntly when asked if she regretted missing out on nearly $1 million in prize money as an amateur. “I don’t care. I’ve got people above me like my mom and dad. They’re the boss.”
Now, as she searches for stability and purpose in her career, Ko seems to be asking bigger questions — not just about her swing, but about her future.
“Maybe I needed to lose myself to understand who I really am,” she says.
Whether she retires at 30 or finds new fire and stays in the game, Lydia Ko’s story is still unfolding. And whatever path she takes, her early brilliance will remain one of golf’s most remarkable chapters.