No one could ever call Scottie Scheffler a sore winner. If anything, he doesn’t celebrate enough.

Following the 29-year-old through the 7,600-yard sauna at Caves Valley for the weekend felt grim, grim, grim. Scheffler’s game face has the dour temperament of Clint Eastwood without the lawless charisma.

In the quieter moments of the BMW Championship, Scheffler often seemed to be staring vacantly while waiting for his partner to shoot, as if wondering if it was about time to change the oil in his car.

Scheffler said a month ago that success on the golf course is fleeting and not his main goal in life. Still, he probably could have recognized that his chip shot on No. 17 on Sunday afternoon is a highlight that will live on forever — and maybe described it with appropriate reverence.

A media member asked if he recognized that his 81-foot chip — which rolled down the green for quite literally 14 seconds before plunking into the hole — was “one of those iconic, oh my gosh, long-term kind of memories.”

Scheffler did not even smile in his response: “I knew it was an important shot in the golf tournament.”

Oh brother. C’mon, Scottie. Give yourself a little credit.

In winning his 18th PGA event, Scheffler celebrated with all the unbridled glee of an accountant in early April. He let himself cut loose like a Franciscan monk. You couldn’t tell if he was more excited to win the tournament or get a root canal.

The rest of us were willing to drop the act.

I was about 50 feet away as I watched Scheffler’s chip, which plopped perhaps just 25 feet from where he struck it but started rolling like a dime down a driveaway.

My eyes kept widening, and my jaw kept dropping. When it sank, I rocked back on my heels in surprise. There is no cheering on press row, but a nearby reporter socked me in the shoulder.

We were thinking the same thing: Get the hell outta here, Scottie.

A big part of the appeal of professional golf is watching the competitors make shots that you know are insanely difficult into mundane affairs. Three-hundred-yard drives down the fairway? Yawn. Irons out of bunkers that drop perfectly on the greens? Big deal.

But the truly transcendent moments of golf are like Scheffler’s chip. They feel absolutely impossible even as you’re watching them happen. Even when you see that the ball has the right line and maybe just enough zip to get to the hole, you never quite believe it until it disappears from view.

It made runner-up Robert MacIntyre, the Scotsman who led through three rounds, feel all but hopeless: “It’s pretty much game over just then. You’re playing for second place at that point.”

It is no exaggeration to say Scheffler’s shot saved the tournament from an underwhelming back nine.

The closest pursuer to Scheffler’s pairing with MacIntyre was, for a while, Sam Burns, who was nipping two strokes behind through 11 holes. But he bogeyed three of the last five, finishing fifth after an impressive early push. Tommy Fleetwood and Maverick McNealy were never close enough for a true challenge.

MacIntyre had designs of being a wire-to-wire winner on Sunday morning but was quickly undone by a driver that would simply not obey. He hit just six of 14 fairways, his shots out of the tee box sailing on him time after time.

“Right now I want to go and smash up my golf clubs, to be honest with you,” MacIntyre said, with slightly more relatable commentary than his playing partner.

Watching Scheffler chase down a lesser-ranked leader on a Sunday is compelling viewing — like watching a hydraulic press slowly crush a watermelon into pulp and mist. But, even for all of his mechanical dominance, he still showed drops of mortal blood.

He bogeyed 12, but his worst hole of the day was 14, where he missed an 18-foot putt for birdie, then rimmed out a much shorter putt for par. On the next hole, when MacIntyre seemed to gain wind at his back, Scheffler was feeling the pressure that he usually applies to his foes.

But, even that was somewhat dampened by another other-worldly shot on No. 15, where he nailed an 8-iron of a bunker all the way to 6 feet from the hole, setting up a birdie putt.

“That was a really important shot in the tournament, one that I think will fly a little bit under the radar,” Scheffler said. “I had just made a sloppy three-putt on the hole before to kind of let Bob back into the tournament.”

At the least, Scheffler had one of his most human moments of competition as he watched his chip shot roll in. He raised his wedge into the air as he watched it hum down the turf, then gave a fist pump and high-fived his caddie, Michael Cromie.

For just an instant, he let the emotion slip through his mask — showing that he, too, feels something when he creates a moment like what happened at Caves Valley.

“When it came out, it came out how we wanted to and then it started breaking and it started looking better and better,” Scheffler said later, the veil firmly back in place. “Yeah, it was definitely nice to see that one go in.”

For him, it was “nice.”

For the rest of us? Unforgettable.