We’re hard on our athletes.
I sent this meme to some friends last week, because someone had sent it to me first. We all had a good laugh.
It’s a play on both gambling and Rory McIlroy, gambling because it explains how a golf future works and Rory because he could never win at Augusta.
For the longest time, the joke was on Rory McIlroy. After this Sunday’s long-awaited victory, there will be no more jokes at his expense.
Sunday brought a final magical round at Augusta as it does every spring, but this one was different. This Sunday, Rory McIlroy once again stood on the verge of doing something only five men in the history of golf have ever done.
Win a grand slam.
We have grand slams in tennis as well. Lifetime champions of the four major events signifying the best of the best, a well-rounded athlete that can win anywhere, no matter the challenge, no matter the competition, no matter the pressure.
Sarazen, Hogan, Player, Nicklaus, Woods. Heck, Arnie’s name isn’t even on that list.
But Rory’s now is, it just took him a little longer to get there, to have his name mentioned alongside the elite, the pressure mounting with every tournament and every tee shot. He can breathe now, the sixth man ever to understand that kind of exhale.
It took eleven tries to join that group in what was Rory’s 17th overall Masters. That’s a long time and it showed as after an exhausting four days, and a Sunday that saw multiple lead changes, errant shots, missed fairways, incredible approaches, duffed gimmes and receding hairlines, Rory collapsed to the ground of the 18th green, his 73rd hole of the tournament. A lifetime pursuit of a goal had come to fruition.
It made for spectacular television and for McIlroy, an emotion that overwhelmed his body. As he sunk his putt on the first playoff hole, Rory fell to his knees, chest heaving in disbelief. He had finally completed his mission.
Tiger Woods became that last man to join this group. That was 25 years ago. That’s how rare a feat this is.
Once Tiger left the game or at least became less Tiger-like, his personal and professional struggles well known and intertwined, the sport looked for a face to take his place, carrying his torch a massive burden, with giant-sized cleats and an iconic cult of personality to fill. McIlroy willingly became that guy.
And eventually, as so many golfers decided to convert their loyalty to LIV and cash a quick check, McIlroy held steadfast to the tour he knew.
Many laughed at him, the lone star still grasping a nearly ember-less torch. Mac would have made countless millions, but he didn’t budge. He bore the brunt of a Tour when at times, even they didn’t give back.
Meanwhile, in Qatar and elsewhere around the globe, Phil Mickelson got cut a check for $200 million. Rahm got $300 mil. There’s no telling what McIlroy would have received and no telling what would have happened to the PGA Tour had he left.
His last few years since the LIV/PGA divide were as chaotic as Sunday’s final eighteen: ups, downs, and multiple occasions to simply give up. Rory began Sunday with a two-stroke lead, only to cough that up on the very first hole. It’s Sunday at Augusta. No lead is safe and mistakes are magnified. All Rory had fought for, all his soundbites from the weekend, all his confidence flew right out the Butler Cabin window with an opening double bogey.
We hold these nerves to be self-evident. We were about to see the same old Rory, coughing, dare I say choking away another opportunity.
The bogey on 11. The double bogey on 13. Kerplunk. The missed putt on the 18th.
You could hear us all, revving our engines, creating memes to send into cyberspace, the comparisons to Norman and Jean van de Velde, the ultimate choke artist. Rory was good. He’d never be great.
Gary Player once wrote a book called “Don’t Choke.” That’s easy for him to say. He owns three green jackets and is among the ceremonial first group to tee off at Augusta every year. Chuck Noll used to say nervousness was a sign of unpreparedness.
But Rory was prepared. Heading into this year’s Masters, he was playing as good as he ever had, among the world’s greatest golfers once again, not an uncommon ranking for him the last seventeen times or so he’d been here.
And yet, that missed putt on 18 with Justin Rose looming on the driving range waiting for his own first green jacket. Here we go again.
I’ve seen some good final Sundays at Augusta. Bubba Watson, unable to control his emotions after a miraculous shot from the 18th tree line. Tiger hugging his father as the tears welled from his eyes. Mickelson’s win after so many tries. Sergio’s as well. Rory’s ranked right up there among them, another magical event at a magical place.
Man, what a Sunday.
Rory McIlroy finally took his place in history and there wasn’t a soul who wasn’t rooting for him to do so. Those memes about Rory, we can shelve them all now and if you took that +650, you were a shrewd gambler.
A shrewd gambler betting on an even shrewder golfer.
