PONTE VEDRA BEACH, Fla. – Dusk had set in at TPC Sawgrass and most people had moved on.

The rows of fans that lined the ropes around No. 9 green all day had now dwindled to just a handful, most making their way toward an exit. What was left of a gallery was huddled in a hospitality suite off the right side of the green, loudly cheering for a magician who had made a surprise appearance; their backs turned to the action, unbothered and uninterested in what was happening down below.

What few players were littered around the course were hurriedly trying to make it through 18 holes, hoping they could finish play and delay their Saturday arrival at THE PLAYERS Championship by a few valuable hours.

Max Homa would’ve done anything to have those concerns. His fate was decided many holes prior. There would be no Saturday third-round tee time, just a disappointing flight home.

But there Homa was. Grinding.

He stared frustratingly into the crowd above the green until the unknowing spectators turned around and sheepishly quieted down. Then Homa resumed his work, analyzing the 11-foot birdie putt in front of him. If you didn’t know his score, his intense gaze and meticulous process would’ve communicated that the putt was to make the cut or tie the lead. Instead it was just the difference between missing the weekend by six or seven shots.

Homa took a stance and struck the putt, but the result was immediately clear. The putt never broke like he wanted it to, his right hand coming off the grip and pleading for it to turn. The ball didn’t listen, sliding by the cup.

That’s been Homa’s life for the last eight months. No matter what he does or how hard he works, the putts aren’t falling, the swing feels aren’t translating and the results aren’t coming. This missed cut was his third straight. He hasn’t made the cut in an event with a cut since The Open Championship last July, when he birdied the 18th hole and let out a guttural, euphoric roar.

That moment was a triumph. This was not. And that day at Royal Troon felt very far away as he stood outside the TPC Sawgrass scoring area after signing for rounds of 79-71, close to tears.

“The way I work, I feel like I deserve to be the best player in the world at some point,” Homa said, barely breaking above a whisper, his voice breaking every few words. “I know that sounds crazy, but that's how I approach each day, is to be the best at it and I'm going the complete opposite direction.”

The deterioration of Max Homa’s game began in the middle of last year, arguably when he was at his highest – in the weeks and months after his T3 at the Masters, his first true experience in contention at a major championship.

Homa lost his swing off the tee, a helpless feeling that led to listless results. Without confidence that he could play in the fairway, Homa carded just one top-10 the rest of the season. He finished dead last in the first FedExCup Playoffs event at the FedEx St. Jude Championship and failed to make the TOUR Championship.

In response, Homa made a bevy of changes in the offseason hoping to correct the downward spiral. He changed equipment, moving from Titleist to Cobra. He stopped working with longtime coach Mark Blackburn and briefly worked without a coach, even playing well in that arrangement at the Presidents Cup. But soon after, Homa realized he needed another set of eyes and in October, at the recommendation of several TOUR pros, began working with John Scott Rattan, the director of instruction at Congressional Country Club.

The two worked on covering the ball and getting Homa’s chest moving early so that his arms wouldn’t get stuck behind. The initial results back home were positive. He was reliably hitting his preferred cut, but it was also helping him draw the ball better than ever before. He was bullish – excited, even – to start a new year fresh.

It has yet to translate under PGA TOUR pressure. And amidst the initial re-acclimation to competitive golf, Homa was without his caddie and best friend Joe Greiner, who stepped away for several weeks to deal with a family situation that left an impact on both.

Homa finished in a tie for 26th in the 58-man field at The Sentry, the season-opener. He was headed for a missed cut at the Farmers Insurance Open before withdrawing during a weather delay late in the day. He finished T53 in the 80-man field at the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am. He hasn’t played a weekend since.

Homa is in the field at the Masters because of his finish a year ago at Augusta National, but he has yet to punch a ticket to the U.S. Open or The Open. Next week, he will drop outside the top 70 in the Official World Golf Ranking for the first time since 2020. He needs to be inside the top 50 for a spot at Royal Portrush and the top 60 for a spot at Oakmont.

Both feel far away.

“It's hard to care this much about something and just not get anything out of it,” he said Friday. “... It's like you're in a very toxic relationship. I might be the toxic one, but it's still toxic."

Homa has been here before. If you can believe it, it’s actually been worse.

Homa earned his PGA TOUR card via the 2016 Korn Ferry Tour, but he made just two cuts in 17 events the next year on TOUR. He made $18,008, and he makes sure to note those extra $8 when he recalls that year, because that mattered deeply at the time.

That was the bottom – the beginning to which this incredible reclamation project was born. Homa regained his card, found his standing on TOUR and slowly transformed into one of the biggest stars of the sport, winning six times and playing on Ryder Cup and Presidents Cup teams.

All the while, he let people in on the journey. He spoke of the struggles and triumphs, frequently appearing on podcasts and laying his demons out. He became one of the most insightful quotes, always introspective about himself and others. He became well-known on social media for roasting fans’ swings.

In recent weeks, he’s gotten off social media to aid his mental health. He’s a harder man to track down, understandable given the circumstances. It’s hard to bring that patented joy outside the ropes when everything is going wrong inside them. And his critics have gotten louder as the struggles continue.

When he struggled in 2016, he could do so in the shadows – immune to criticism or expectation. Now he’s slumping in the spotlight, taking many lobs from the cheap seats.

“I know how hard I work; I know how much I care. So it just feels more just s****y for myself, like internally,” Homa said. “I know people probably love this and some people probably hate it for me, but people like to laugh when people aren't doing well. I would laugh at that, because I just don't know what more I could be doing at the moment.

“It's actually easier to deal with what I think people might think because it seems so silly because they're not sitting on the range with me for X amount of hours.”

Homa remains encouraged by what he sees on the range, but it’s a struggle anytime he leaves. Practice rounds are a struggle. Rounds at home aren’t great either. And the results on the PGA TOUR speak for themselves.

There are still moments that make Homa believe. He said his tee shot at No. 1 on Thursday at TPC Sawgrass was “about as good as I’ve ever hit a golf shot in my life.” He admits that sounds stupid, but he doesn’t know how else to explain it.

“I know people probably think I'm crazy but like the work I'm doing is right, it's just I'm not doing a very good job on the golf course of making that show,” Homa said. “I'm sure I'd get made more fun for saying how great I feel and shooting 80 or whatever. I'm not blowing smoke, but I'm also not scoring at all, so it's just hard.”

That’s where the frustration comes from. He believes he’s on the right path. He said similar at The Genesis Invitational last month.

But he was more optimistic then than he is now, a month gone by with no tangible progress.

He’s quick to say his support system has been amazing. A bevy of friends, family and TOUR pros have reached out. Everyone has been “super kind and helpful.” They can do a lot for Homa, but they can’t swing the club. That’s all on him.

Maybe the better results are close. Maybe they aren’t. They didn’t feel particularly close to Homa at TPC Sawgrass this week. Regardless of when, or if, he breaks out of this rut, he won’t be outworked.

And as long as he’s grinding on every last swing and every last putt, whether it’s to take the lead or to miss the cut by six, Homa will keep searching for his path back.

“If my kid was going through this, and he was working this hard,” Homa said, tears beginning to well up. “I would be proud of him, so I'm (pauses) proud of myself.”