In Northern Ireland, debate is already raging as to whether Rory McIlroy has presented himself as the country’s greatest ever sportsperson.
The answer is surely obvious. Step aside, George Best. McIlroy’s Masters triumph may even force Sports Personality of the Year to afford due recognition to golf. It is only April but it feels highly unlikely the scene immediately after McIlroy claimed the Masters on Sunday will be matched. His pounding of the turf; his tears absorbed more than a decade of such deep frustration. The moment reverberated beyond sport; Rory had done it. Grown men, lots of them, shed tears on his behalf as he broke his Augusta hoodoo.
Nick Faldo six, Rory McIlroy five. Were this a football match, Faldo would be the winner. Yet in golf there is nuance. McIlroy might trail Faldo’s overall majors haul – for now – but the completion of the career grand slam pressed home new status for McIlroy. No European had secured the set before. He is the finest golfer this continent has produced.
Faldo was the grinder who got the job done. There were, of course, stunning moments. The Englishman’s takedown of Greg Norman in the 1996 Masters represented true sporting theatre. It is a statistical oddity that Faldo had just three Masters top 10s, all victories. McIlroy is the natural artist, the people’s champion who in the latest Masters edition proved that he has a game to pass every exam. Differing course conditions are the standard reference point for McIlroy’s earlier major glories. This one was all about the state of his mind. Resilience won McIlroy’s Masters far more than panache. His biggest opponent sat between his ears.
McIlroy has scope to press home the European point. When partying from Augusta eventually subsides – and he is entitled to do as much of that as he wants – there will be competitive refocus. McIlroy has spent more than a decade chasing his grand slam. At times, it looked like it consumed him. Now, in his own words, “free” from that burden, he could be a seriously dangerous animal. The US PGA Championship takes place next month at Quail Hollow, where McIlroy has a formidable record.
There was trauma at Royal Portrush in 2019 but the Open Championship’s return this summer offers McIlroy a platform to settle a score at a venue he has known since childhood. He will naturally target Faldo and the half‑dozen when, still aged just 35, he has a decent window to endorse his greatness with a much bigger major tally. “This will take the world off his shoulders and I think you’ll see a lot more great golf out of Rory McIlroy,” said Jack Nicklaus, the 18-time major winner. Nicklaus has not lost his touch; he tipped McIlroy to win the Masters on Thursday morning.
McIlroy’s competitive longevity does not get sufficient credit. A glance at the world golf rankings from the end of 2014, when he last won two majors, leads you to ponder “whatever happened to … ” time and again. Justin Rose, who came so close to shattering McIlroy’s dream, is notable at No 6.
There are shades of Seve Ballesteros in the way McIlroy plays. In winning the Masters, McIlroy routinely used escapism of which Ballesteros would have been proud. Ballesteros won four of his majors inside five years and all of them inside nine. He never looked capable of winning a US Open, which like the US PGA Championship duly eluded him. McIlroy is Seve Plus.
There will be shouts for Harry Vardon in this conversation. The man from Jersey won the Open six times and lifted the US Open trophy in 1900. Vardon’s grip was a huge contribution to golf. It feels impossible, though, to compare the sport Vardon was involved in – niblicks, jiggers et al – to the scene of today. Vardon never broke 70 with his Gutta-Percha in those half‑dozen Open triumphs (in his defence, he did not have to). The competitive strength of golf in this era is as never before.
McIlroy’s influence on golf has been huge. He has drawn people towards it, including as a properly athletic pursuit. His willingness to speak so openly, so candidly and so often adds to his appeal. He has also been statesmanlike in the game at a time when it has been pulled apart by civil war. He never needed to do that, in fact perhaps wishes he did not, but it came naturally. McIlroy’s voice is a sane one. He feels responsibility to use it.
Sunday at the Masters was no time for vocal engagement. Bryson DeChambeau could not handle McIlroy’s Masters charge, the American later raising, in slightly snippy terms, the fact the champion did not speak to him mid-round. If DeChambeau wants small talk, he should head to a coffee morning.
McIlroy’s working‑class upbringing, with his mother combining several jobs, adds to this fairytale. Nothing came easily in Holywood. Mention the theory of God-given talent and McIlroy recoils; he has worked, worked and worked for everything in this sport. Harry Diamond, McIlroy’s caddie, is a lifelong best friend who has been unfairly castigated as majors slipped through fingers. Diamond deliberately shuns the limelight when his role in McIlroy’s ongoing achievement should be recognised.
Luke Donald, McIlroy’s neighbour in Florida, will take great delight in the Masters outcome. One of umpteen strands associated with McIlroy’s playoff win is that it took place in a Ryder Cup year. Come September and Bethpage, Donald will be calling upon a McIlroy still riding his Augusta wave.
McIlroy needed a Masters win to shift his own psychological status. This was the plot twist of all plot twists. It was, furthermore, a reminder to enjoy him while he lasts. McIlroy, the generational talent, has no European peer.