You know how Scottie Scheffler plays. Here’s how he practices

OAKMONT, Pa. — The Tiger-of-the-moment, Mr. Scottie Scheffler of Dallas, is nothing like Tiger, except for the pace at which he’s been winning golf tournaments these past two years. When Woods played his nine-hole practice rounds, on the eve of a major, he went out a half-hour after sunrise and the whole session was a study in grind-it-out intensity. Scheffler played with Sam Burns on Wednesday, heading off the 10th tee and a little before noon, finishing about three hours later, a practice round complete with storytelling, chipping contests and many, many greenside pitch shots. They’re both 28, strong as bulls, and Southern, even if Scheffler got to Texas by way of New Jersey. Scottie did the talking. Sam did the listening.

So we’re in this pizza place. Sally’s. Everybody’s getting their pies. And we’re getting . . . nothing. And finally this guy comes our way and he’s got the pie. And I’m like, ‘That’s gotta be ours.’ And it goes to the table behind us. And that table clearly sat down at least 20 minutes after us. And the guy says, “Not for you!”

Little burst of laughter across the tee. The players, the caddies, the volunteers and marshals. Smashed tee shot, smashed tee shot.

When the nine holes were done, Sam Burns went one way and Scottie Scheffler another, but not before signing dozens and dozens of autographs. Somebody said to Burns, “Can you imagine a guy playing a more relaxed practice round with the year he’s having?”

“That’s just how he is,” Burns said. That is, that’s how he is on a Wednesday-afternoon practice round. Saturday night at Quail Hollow, holing a putt on 18 to expand his lead in the PGA Championship, Scheffler was the picture on intensity, with this caption: “F— yeah, baby.”

Scheffler was on the range at 11 a.m., alongside his caddie, Ted Scott, and his teacher, Randy Smith of River Oaks Country Club in Dallas. Smith is as old-school as Sean Foley is new-age. When a flawless range session was done, Smith sent Scheffler to the range with a swat to the bottom like an old-timey manager looking for a final out from his country-strong closer.

Gary Williams, from Golf Channel, had a guest on recently and the conversation turned to Scottie Scheffler.

“Who does this guy remind you of?” Williams asked.

A pause.

“Mike Souchak.”

Williams was like, Mike Souchak — interesting.

Mike Souchak was the 54-hole leader of the 1960 U.S. Open at Cherry Hills in Denver, the year Arnold Palmer won. Souchak was country strong. (He was an end and a placekicker on the Duke football team in the 1950s.) He was long with a swing that worked for him. He was a family guy. He didn’t have the need to tell anybody how smart he was. Scheffler, Scheffler, Scheffler, Scheffler, Scheffler.

None of this is to suggest this was a fun-and-games practice round. Between them, Burns and Scheffler might have played 200 greenside chips, pitches and bunker shots. Scheffler went into one bunker with five balls, something you almost never see. When his second shot on 12 landed on the front of the green and finished over it, he played eight more pitch shots from five-inch-long rough that was only two yards over the green. He played approach shots to the Wednesday pins, then played a series of shots to the likely Thursday and Friday pin locations, indicated with flat rubber bathtub stoppers. At least, they could be.

Scheffler had four clubs with headcovers: driver, 3-wood, 5-wood, putter. He had an umbrella. (Sam Burns did not.) He had one of those alignment devices. He had blade irons and one of them had one strip of lead tape across the back. He has a rangefinder in an Augusta National case, or maybe it would be more accurate to say Ted Scott did. He didn’t have too many questions for Scott. They were giving each other the needle, now and again. More Scheffler to Scott than the other way around.

How about that time at the Presidents Cup, when you said the wind was coming out of three o’clock. And that was wildly inaccurate. And I’m like, “Do you even know where three o’clock is on clock dial?”

And everybody’s laughing, because life is good. The course, this Oakmont Country Club course, hosting its 10th U.S. Open, is impossible. But it’s less impossible for Scottie Scheffler than it is for some others.

The reigning PGA champion has a purposeful manner, but a casual one, too. He putted one ball down a fairway with an iron, just to see how far it would run. When a sprinkler head was interfering with one shot. He just gently kicked the ball to a new location with a kick of the toe. A father pointed his young son — three, tops —in Scottie Scheffler’s direction. The dad forced the kid to wave, two hands for the price of one.

Scottie Scheffler waved back.

Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@Golf.com