Feelings are not facts. But we consume sports at a time that “takes” and what used to simply be called opinions are flooding our collective zones of consciousness. Engagement farming is an insult to every farmer, living and dead. It’s certainly real and it’s certainly sad and even golf has become susceptible to dime store trolling for “likes” and attention. Rory McIlroy is a generational performer with one of the great lists of accomplishments in the history of the sport. Pre-LIV he was not perceived as a polarizing figure but his dogged pro PGA tour position upon the creation of LIV, which has subsequently cooled, coupled with his insistence to simultaneously and agonizingly contend at many of the major championships over that same time have made him golf’s every week needle mover. While Bryson DeChambeau and Scottie Scheffler have won majors in 2024, Rory makes the most people sit forward when he jumps on the screen. Which gets us to right now.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Rory’s sprint to three of the four major championships before the age of twenty-five not only got him a chair at a small table with Jack and Tiger, it naturally and not hyperbolically, ear marked him for eight majors ten years on from his last in August of 2014. Then golf happened. Not the same golf that happened to Tiger after June of 2008, or Arnie after April of 1964, or Greg Norman just whenever. Presumption in golf is more precarious than flop shots from tight lies after a night of transfusions. It seems unfathomable that ten years next month Rory punted Rickie Fowler and Phil Mickelson off the 18th green at Valhalla and appeared to usher in his own era, complete with the career grand slam at his doorstep at the entry of Magnolia Lane starting in 2015. It would be easier to explain if his major drought was a result of career crippling putter yips or full swings yips let alone a debilitating injury. On the contrary, he’s missed one major since his last major win, the 2015 Open, and he’s been the most consistent performer without a win in that time, racking up 21 Top Ten’s in 38 major starts. Additionally, he’s finished in the Top 5 11 times, and been runner up on four occasions. That last occasion was met with the Rory reflex to flee the scene at Pinehurst. It was fight and then it was flight. He’s incurred some deep cuts while also enjoying one of the most decorated careers of the past 50 years. Which makes Rory a riddle.
Who seems to have it all but leaves you wanting? Who has done so much yet it seems so incomplete? Who has been argued as the best at his best for a decade but hasn’t been the best even ONCE in a major in ten years? Rory. His current place historically is way outside the curve of all players who won at least five majors in his career in regard to how long it took them to click the odometer from four to five. Tiger went from four to five in one month, Gene Sarazen one month, Arnold Palmer nine months, Tom Watson nine months, Ben Hogan ten months and Jack Nicklaus one year. It took Sam Snead, Lee Trevino and Nick Faldo an unfathomable two years to go from four to five, Gary Player, Byron Nelson and Phil Mickelson an excruciating three years. Seve Ballesteros and Brooks Koepka went an unimaginable four years to cross from four to five major victories. Only Peter Thompson who won five Open Championships went longer than five years and that’s only because he chose to play in only three United States based majors between 1958 and 1965. Rory is trying to cross the widest Rubicon amplified by a psychological riptide never navigated by a historic player in his prime. Ernie Els and Raymond Floyd’s fourth major wins were curtain pulling encores. And here’s the kicker, he’s exceedingly normal. Which for all the swing breakdowns and lamenting of a poorly timed tepid putter the dime store psycho analysis of who he is might be why he finds himself in this weird historical space.
Rory reads. He’s affected and effected. As much as he tries to avoid indulging the content creators and ink-stained scribes, only a few left, he just can’t help himself. Being exceedingly normal also means you are prone to petulance, stubbornness, doubt and most importantly vulnerability. You think years and close calls when you know you are the top of the class does not harden those emotions and behaviors? You watch and follow sports long enough you start to feel things as they are happening. Momentum is an extraordinary phenomenon. I followed Rory every day of the U.S. Open and he was as close to complete for those four days as I’ve seen him under the most demanding conditions until he wasn’t. It was not the tee shot on 15 that was flighted too low for most analysts liking or the alarming short miss on 16. After grabbing a two-shot lead on 13 with back-to-back birdies he did something he had not done all week. His tee shot on 14 was quick and low left and I sensed something getting quickly weird. From that moment his decision making and execution got disorienting, and just flat off. Being self-conscious is also another very normal feeling. Some historic players have had a major or three kicked their way and maybe Rory will require a massive break to cross the line again but this pursuit which has included, to his great credit, a handful of heart wrenching results is not just in the recesses of his mind it’s at the forefront of everybody’s mind. Like I said, you get feelings. Patrick Mahomes felt completely inevitable last year and for the foreseeable future. Michael and Tiger were inevitable. Rory has felt on the wrong side of that equation and getting gutted wickedly seems to reinforce that feeling.
This week its neither the home of golf nor the home of American golf. Both being sites of recent Rory sudden morosity. The history of men’s major championship golf is marked by resounding triumph after heartbreaking defeats. Phil Mickelson got off the mat after the Merion U.S. Open and his multiple errant wedge shots to soar to victory at Muirfield a month later. Adam Scott was lifeless after his slow burn to defeat at St. George’s in 2012 only to be fitted for a green jacket in the next major the following spring at Augusta National. Rory is four rounds away from going into his 11th year between major victories. Oddly, his hero, Tiger Woods was facing that dynamic when he won the Masters in 2019. Tiger was rolling the odometer from 14 to 15, Rory is trying to progress from four to five. McIlroy is as complete a player as he’s been in his mind, and I agree with him. It’s not simply Bob Rotella self-talk, his arsenal of shots is robust. He also possesses something exceedingly valuable in any walk of life, gratitude. He’s not jaded or bitter, albeit in the moments after Bryson brushed in the winning putt at Pinehurst, he simply wasn’t prepared to process the loss publicly. He loves what he does, and it doesn’t guarantee results, but it makes for a healthier head space. Picking winners of golf tournaments is fun and frivolous. At times players are pricklier and more temperamental than 3-year old getting into the gate at Churchill Downs, but the human condition makes them more reliable. The vagaries of the draw, the funkiness and fantastic nature of links golf can make things appear more random, which is also why its beautiful. It’s always darkest before the dawn, Rory is going to win the Open. Remember what I told you about feelings.