Carving My Own Path
By Billy Gneiser
I was 14 years old the first time I beat my dad on the golf course, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I birdied the first hole, he made par, and I remember thinking, ‘OK, I’ve got something going today.’
He chirped me like he always does, “Don’t worry, it’s not gonna last long,” but the lead kept growing. By the turn I was three-up, and by 16 I’d finally closed him out. I called my mom right away to brag.
For a long time, that was my favorite story to tell.
In our house, everything was a competition: golf, hockey, baseball, video games, board games, even who got to the food first. My dad played Division I golf at Central Michigan and for years has been one of the PGA Tour’s top caddies. My mom is a six-time club champion at Medinah and once got down to a scratch handicap. My older and younger brothers both play college golf.
If you weren’t competing, you were falling behind.
But as competitive as it was, my parents never forced anything on us. They just wanted us to find what we loved and work hard at it.
That’s been the story of my life: growing up in a legendary hockey family, falling in love with the game myself, and eventually finding my unique path through golf.
Growing Up in a Hockey Legend’s Shadow
My grandpa is Stan Mikita. To a lot of people, he’s a Chicago Blackhawks icon, a Hall of Famer, a statue outside the United Center.
To me, he was just Grandpa.
I didn’t grow up thinking, I’m hanging out with a legend. I grew up learning how to cut the grass, tape a hockey stick, tie my skates, and swing a golf club from the guy sitting next to me. Summers meant almost-daily trips to the golf course with him, hitting balls on the range, rolling putts, playing a couple of holes and heading home. Those simple days are what really pulled me toward golf.
He was an ambassador for the Blackhawks, so my brothers and I went to a lot of games. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp who he was.
That changed after he passed away in 2018. At his public visitation at the United Center, hundreds (maybe thousands) of people lined up to pay their respects. I heard stories all day long, many of them not even about hockey, but about who he was off the ice.
That was an eye-opening moment. It hit me just how much he meant to the city of Chicago and to the hockey world.
There was pressure that came with that name, even if I didn’t wear “Mikita” on the back of my jersey. Word travels fast in hockey. Teams would find out I was his grandson, and I’d get chirped for it. My grandma would come to my games and tell me I skated, shot, and handled the puck just like him.
Same height, same build, same style. Even the same number, 21.
I dreamed of playing in the NHL and following in his footsteps, but I also wanted to be the kind of person he was. That mattered just as much. When people now come up to me at Blackhawks events, asking for photos and sharing stories about him, it’s still surreal. I always feel like they should be asking someone else. But I’ve learned it’s pretty special to meet a relative of someone who meant that much to a city.
At the same time, my parents and mentors made sure I had room to be me. I played pretty much every sport you can think of, with hockey as my main one, but there was never a sense that I had to do anything just because of my last name or my bloodline.
From Hockey Dreams to the Golf Course
Golf was always there in the background through family rounds, range sessions, friendly matches, but it didn’t become “my sport” until later in high school.
Going into my junior year, I started playing competitive tournaments more seriously. As a sophomore, I’d qualified for state and finished 15th out of about 150 players. All the guys in front of me were committed to Division I programs.
That was the moment I realized, ‘If I commit to this, I might be able to play at that level, too.’
Then COVID hit.
Rinks shut down. The golf course behind our house closed, but it was still sitting there. Classes moved online, so I’d be on my laptop for school, then step outside between classes or afterward and just pound golf balls. Chip, putt, repeat. Day after day. I didn’t really have anything else to do, and that’s where my game jumped to another level.
By my senior year, I was winning junior events, earning all-state honors, and tying for a top-five finish at the state championship, just a couple shots off the lead. That opened doors.
The recruiting process was chaotic because of COVID. Players ahead of me got extra eligibility, which meant fewer roster spots. I talked with several schools, including some in the Big East and Big Ten, but in the end it came down to where I’d play, where I’d be supported, and who wanted me the most.
DePaul checked all the boxes and it just happened to be 30–35 minutes from home. Looking back now as a senior, I wouldn’t trade these last four years for anything.
That’s been the story of my life: growing up in a legendary hockey family, falling in love with the game myself, and eventually finding my unique path through golf.
Life as a Blue Demon
I’ll be the first to tell you I’m not a “school comes easy” guy. I actually started at DePaul as a Finance and Real Estate major because so many of the people I caddied for were in that world and told me I had the right personality for it.
Then the reality of higher-level math hit, especially on the road at tournaments, and I realized that wasn’t my lane.
I switched to Communications and Media, and it’s been a much better fit. People have always told me I’d be good behind a microphone, calling games or doing some sort of broadcasting. I’ve done a couple of “mic’d up” things where I slip into my best Jim Nantz or Doc Emrick impression, and honestly, that kind of work feels natural.
Academically, DePaul has been incredible. Our athletic and academic support staffs are on top of everything. You feel like they’re constantly checking on you in the best way. I have regular meetings every week with tutors lined up for classes and a clear structure that keeps me accountable. I struggled at first with the jump from high school, but once I figured out my routine, it changed everything.
On the course, my college results haven’t always reflected what I know I’m capable of. I tend to put too much pressure on myself in the college season. But if you look at my summers, my game shows I can compete at the next level. That’s part of what keeps me chasing this.
The memories that stand out most aren’t just scores or finishes. They’re trips to places like Florida, San Diego, and South Carolina. Long flights, great restaurants, bad rounds we laugh about later. We’ve had a ton of roster turnover in my four years, but I still stay in touch with everyone. We genuinely get along. That chemistry matters because when everyone feels supported, people play freer.
This year, being the only senior on a very young team has changed my role. I’m still the outgoing, goofy guy at times, but I’ve had to tighten things up to be more of a role model, speak up before tournaments, set the tone in the weight room and at practice.
With two fifth-years and the rest freshmen and sophomores, I know guys are watching what I do and how I handle things. That’s a responsibility I take seriously.
If you scroll my social media, you’ll see Psalm 7:17 in my bio. Gratitude is a big theme for me. I try to thank God for the opportunities I’ve had: to grow up in the family I did, to wear a DePaul polo, to chase a little white ball around for a living while I still can.
None of that is guaranteed.
What Comes Next
After graduation, I want to see how far I can take this game. The plan is to find sponsors, head over to Europe with a buddy, and go through DP World Tour Q-School.
I know it’ll be a grind. I know nothing is promised. But I also know how hard I’ve worked, and I believe my game, especially in the summer, stacks up well enough to give it an honest shot.
If professional golf doesn’t pan out, broadcasting (especially in hockey or golf) is something I could genuinely see myself doing. I’ve grown up around the sport, around the stories, around big moments. Between that and my connections through my family and the game, there are doors I can knock on.
Whatever happens next, I don’t want to be known only as “Stan Mikita’s grandson” or “the kid from the golf family.” I’m proud of those things. I’ll always be grateful for them.
But at the end of the day, I want people to think of me as someone who worked hard, loved his family, treated people well, and carved out his own story.
Right now, golf is the lane I’m chasing. I want to see how far I can take it, keep growing, keep competing, and give myself every chance to succeed at the professional level. If that path eventually shifts into something like broadcasting or another career I’m passionate about, I’m open to that, too.
My goal is simple: to keep becoming the best version of myself.
One swing. One season. One opportunity at a time.
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